“Only thing is, those little folk. You know how they came out, that day. Might want to talk again. Won’t make an appearance if I’ve got a guard with me. Or your scholar friend.”

“Never mind that. Just go to St. Olcan’s and have a look. And get someone to walk back with you. Not Flannan. He and I have had a falling-out. Ask Brother Dufach or one of the others. Nobody will think badly of you for that. It’s just common sense.”

“What’ll you be doing?”

“Talking to Geiléis, choosing a day for the ritual. Going out to gather herbs. Spending time in the forest on my own. Part of the preparation, as I said.”

“Senach won’t want you going out without a guard and for once I agree with him.”

“Don’t concern yourself. I’ll persuade Geiléis. She only needs to hear that without the proper preparation the cleansing ritual has no hope at all of banishing the monster.” Even if I did fit in the hours of meditation and fasting, the solitary vigils, the prayers that were supposed to be offered in the days leading up to the ritual itself, I doubted my efforts would achieve anything. But I did not say so.

“Be careful,” Grim said.

“You too.”

• • •

I returned from the privy to find our quarters empty. Grim’s cloak was gone and with it his water skin and his weapons. It seemed not quite right to visit a monastery armed to the teeth, but the forest of Bann was a tricky, mysterious place, so maybe it was common sense.

Geiléis always took breakfast in her private quarters. Sometimes she did not emerge until well into the morning. I wondered what she did with her time. I had seen no sign of loom, of distaff and spindle, or indeed of musical instruments or writing materials in her bedchamber. No little dogs; no husband or children to keep her occupied. It was a solitary life, which in itself was no bad thing—there had been times when I had longed for nothing more than to be all alone, with no need to bother about anyone. I’d imagined a little house in the forest where I might live without human companionship and be as ill-tempered and unsociable as I pleased. But that house had always contained implements of work: quills, parchment and inks; herbs and fungi drying; knives and boards, stoppered jars, jugs and vessels for the making of remedies. There’d always been a dog too, a big ugly one to keep folk away. The idea of living alone pleased me. But living alone with nothing to do was quite a different matter. Geiléis was not alone, of course; she had her servants and her men-at-arms. But she kept them at arm’s length. She was, in effect, without family or friends. Despite myself, I felt sorry for her. Who would want to come and visit her, with the monster’s voice ringing in their ears and casting a blight over the whole place? I did wonder why she didn’t ride out and call upon the folk of the district, the way Oran did at Winterfalls. All the local people there knew the prince and respected him as their leader and guardian, young as he was. Perhaps Geiléis was unwelcome at the local farms and settlements. Perhaps folk believed she had somehow brought the curse down on them.