Forget that for now. Got to get a grip on myself. Don’t want to walk into Geiléis’s house with my face all sad. Set aside my worries; they’re nothing beside what Blackthorn has to do tomorrow. So, leave the reeds for later. Take her through a training drill again, not as hard as yesterday—don’t want her tired out. Go through the possibilities once or twice more. Tall monster, short monster, big monster, skinny monster. Sharp claws, maybe. Lots of teeth. Tail he can use as a weapon. She’ll need to be quick. She’ll need to be really quick. Well, she’s light on her feet—that’s something. Might ask the fellows if anyone’s got a leather tunic small enough for her. A helmet too. Should ask her about magic, whether she can use it in a fight. You never know with a wise woman. Especially her.

Thinking all that through gets me back to Geiléis’s. I put my bundle of reeds away. Blackthorn’s not in our quarters. Can’t find her anywhere. Feel my heart drop, which is stupid. Midsummer Eve’s not until tomorrow. And she wouldn’t go off to do it on her own anyway; that would be stupid. I go and ask Senach. He tells me she’s over at the practice yard already. Which is good. Means Onchú and the others are helping her. I head off to join them. One more day. Morrigan’s britches.

37

Geiléis

One more day. Less than a full day, since they would make the attempt in the morning. She would have preferred dawn, but they must wait until Grim was out of the house, or he would insist on following Blackthorn like a big clumsy shadow. She could not risk the possibility that he would get in the way somehow, stop the wise woman before she finished it. Who knew what would happen with the thorns, once she cut her way through? Besides, Blackthorn herself did not want her so-called companion there. She’d told him that the attempt would be made just before dusk. He would be out of the way, at St. Olcan’s, until the deed was done.

As for the scholar, who knew what game he was playing? A man who would turn his back on an old friend could not be trusted. He too must be kept at a distance until it was all over.

All over. At last, the end of this. Could it be? There had been so many times of hope before, and so many bitter disappointments. She moved to her mirror and drew away the cloth that veiled it. The woman who gazed back at her seemed calm; there was no sign of the anticipation that gripped her body from head to toe. Tomorrow. Oh, gods, let tomorrow be the end.

A tap at her door. “Come in, Senach,” she said without turning.

“It’s Onchú, my lady.” His broad-shouldered figure appeared in the mirror behind her.