“I say again, what is your price?”

“And if I have no price?” asked the scholar.

“Then I will be obliged to take action.” Her hand moved to the knife at her belt: an additional precaution, in case the scholar proved to be more warrior than he appeared. “Action I would prefer to avoid.”

“At this point I should remind you that I did mention to Brother Ríordán, up at the monastery, that I had managed to work out the code. I have not discussed the contents of the document with him. Not yet, at least. I have left a complete transcription locked away in the scriptorium at St. Olcan’s, in my personal box. Should I disappear under odd circumstances, I feel certain the monks would go through all my papers looking for clues. Sooner or later. Possibly before midsummer. But possibly not. That is a risk you would have to take. Then, of course, there’s Blackthorn. She would be somewhat surprised if I vanished without explanation. And as you know, she likes to get her teeth into a good mystery.”

Geiléis worked on her breathing. So close, oh, so very close! “I very much hope that you will not disappear, Master Flannan. Such a devious mind would be a great loss to the future of scholarship. I do not ask you to tell any lies. By all means share the tale with Blackthorn and Grim tonight, as they expect. I will be present. Both you and I will behave as if this meeting had not happened.”

“And?”

“The sad story of Lily and her Ash will surely touch Blackthorn’s heart. She may seem hard on the surface, all bitterness and anger. But she is not devoid of compassion, nor of courage. Master Flannan, I do not ask much of you. Only that you omit the last line of the curse. So little; only a few words. Will you do that?”

Flannan gazed at her; he was somber now. “And what of the aftermath?” he asked.

“I can give you silver,” she said. “Land, if you wish. Opportunities a man of your background could not dream of.”

“You would kill for this,” said Flannan. “Without hesitation, without compunction. I suppose there is a man with a weapon waiting just outside that door.”

“More than one. I would do anything to break the curse. Anything. If you give me no other choice, I will have you removed, yes. But only if there is no alternative.”

“Happily, it will not be necessary to take such drastic action. But do not forget that I possess the ability to spoil your plan with as few as eight or nine words, spoken in the right ear. Remember that if I am harmed, the monks will read my translation and the story will become common knowledge. If that occurs before Midsummer Eve, you will lose this chance. Perhaps you will lose any chance at all.”

Folk would forget, of course. In another fifty years, Blackthorn, Grim, Flannan, the brethren of St. Olcan’s would all be gone. But she would still be here, and Ash would still be in the tower, screaming his pain. She couldn’t fail again. She would break in pieces. “What do you want from me?”