“Maybe, maybe. And maybe not. I cannot believe I was such a fool as to confide the whole story.”

“You were young, my lady.”

“Yes, young and stupid. I should not have relied on a promise. It seems even monks break their word. I don’t know what to do, Donncha. We are so close to success. A hair’s breadth away from it. I need the right woman to win the day. But the right woman is observant. She sees beyond the obvious. That sort of person is very hard to trick. I do not believe she has any weak point.”

Donncha said nothing. They walked on.

“There’s Grim, of course. She’s fonder of him than she knows. Grim might fall ill or meet with an accident. Nothing too serious, but serious enough to distract her for a while. Perhaps to keep her busy nursing him, so her attention will be divided.”

“Yes, my lady. But Master Flannan—”

“Will still come straight here as soon as he manages to decode the manuscript, yes. Senach will intercept him. He will be directed to speak to me first. At which point I will find out what the manuscript contains and, if necessary, take immediate steps to silence him. He might be bought off; every man has his price.”

“Yes, my lady.” A pause. “You wish Grim to be incapacitated? A broken leg? That might be hard to do discreetly. He’s a big man.”

“Nothing so drastic, or Blackthorn will suspect foul play. Let us leave Grim for now. The job at St. Olcan’s keeps him conveniently out of the way. But you should have a plan in place for later. Grim might well insist on being close to Blackthorn on Midsummer Eve, even if this job at the monastery isn’t finished. We’ll need a reliable means of ensuring he is not present when she goes to the tower. Talk to Onchú and work something out.”

“Yes, my lady.”

They walked on a distance in silence. “My lady?”

“What is it, Donncha?”

“If it works . . . if Mistress Blackthorn succeeds in the task . . . what will become of us? The rest of us?”

She had considered this, of course. Over and over she had tried to think it through. But there was no good answer. “I suppose, in one way or another, we will all be set free,” she told him.

27

Blackthorn

Two days until the ritual. As midsummer neared, I felt as if time was slipping past ever more quickly. I wished I’d never said I would conduct the cleansing ceremony—it was pointless. A complete waste of time. After my visit to the settlement it was obvious nobody was going to tell me anything about the monster in the tower. They’d been welcoming enough, accepting the potions and salves I had brought with gratitude and seeking my advice on a range of ailments from aching joints to the ever-present headaches. For those, I gave them a tincture of true love’s tears, and showed some of the women how to make more. Which had perhaps suggested a lack of confidence in the ritual, since if it worked the creature would leave and the headaches would leave with it, but never mind that. Grim’s little man had popped up again, showing himself to both Grim and Flannan, and had mentioned the herb. A pity the wee folk hadn’t bothered to explain why it was important and what I was supposed to do with it—use it as a cure, find a message where it grew, something else entirely. Tending to the local people’s sore heads was at least a start.