He reads it out. “To Mathuin of Laois: for his eyes only. My lord, it appears the target will be eliminated by midsummer, without the need for any further action on my part. Should the event I anticipate not occur, I will revert to the previous plan and bring her to Laois. She has already taken the bait. Your servant, Flannan.”

What in the name of all that’s holy is this? The lying bastard! The vile two-faced traitor! She trusted him. He was her friend. I get to my feet, fists clenched, ready to kill someone.

“Brother Conall,” says Ríordán, quite sharp. “Sit down. Whatever this is, you will not solve the problem by giving way to your anger. Dathal, will you leave us for a while? Please do not speak of this matter outside these four walls.”

“Are you sure?” says Dathal, giving me a nervous look.

“I am. Grim and I are friends. Go now.”

When he’s gone, Ríordán says, “Tell me what you think this means.”

“He wants to kill her. Blackthorn. She’s the threat. Because wherever she goes, she’ll speak up for truth and justice, and Mathuin’s her main target. She got away from him once before. He’s sent Flannan to hunt her down. Someone she trusts. An old friend. Someone she’d never suspect.”

“You shock me. If Flannan has such evil intent, why has he not done Mistress Blackthorn some mischief before now? There must have been opportunities—you’ve all been at Bann some time.”

Opportunities. Yes, there have been, all those times when the two of them went off for their private talks. But always at Geiléis’s house. He might have been able to do it, but he’d never have got away with it. Not with me around. I explain this to Ríordán.

“Eliminated,” he says. “That seems clear enough, though I find it hard to . . . What is this talk of taking the bait?”

“Don’t know about that part.” Think I can guess, and if I’m right that man’s the worst kind of scum on earth. But that doesn’t matter for now. “The rest of it, it says midsummer; it has to be about the tower and what she’s going to do there. He knows something he hasn’t told us. She’s in danger. Deadly danger. Will you open the box? Could be that document, the one with the curse, is in there.”

“The document you found is locked away with the other most precious manuscripts.”

“No, the translation, the copy he made. We never saw it; he just told us what was in it. Could you read it to me?” Time’s passing, more and more time. Can’t stop shivering. Won’t be much use to her if I don’t get a grip on myself. “Please. I beg you.”

He stands there a moment, thinking in that scholarly way, and I try hard not to leap up again and shake him into action. Not his fault, any of it. I think about Brother Galen and how kind he was to me. Take a deep breath. Who’d have thought keeping still could be so hard?