“You mean because I know what Mathuin’s capable of? That’s rubbish. Cass would never have done what you’ve done. Not in a thousand years. You were going to hand me over, weren’t you? If the curse didn’t finish me off, you were going to take me all the way to Mathuin’s doorstep on the strength of those cruel lies. That’s unforgivable.” Could I snatch that knife? Stab him before he wrestled it from me and killed me? He was far taller, but my blow had dazed him. I tried not to look at the weapon.

“You can’t know that.” Flannan’s voice had a wild edge. “How can you?”

“You forget the scribe’s habit of setting things down in writing. Messages to Mathuin, carried by birds. A translation set away under lock and key. And a friend of mine who’s been spending a lot of time at St. Olcan’s.”

“Grim?” Flannan was incredulous. “Don’t tell me that dunderhead could read. That, I’ll never believe.”

“He didn’t need to be able to read.” I blinked back furious tears. “He just needed an observant eye and a gift for making friends. We know exactly what you’ve been doing.”

“I did what I had to.”

“Rubbish! Nobody has to lie and cheat and kill. Nobody has to obey a wretch like Mathuin. How long have you been doing his foul work, Flannan? And why, in the name of all the gods, why?”

“Why did I agree to find you and bring you back? Why did I do Mathuin’s bidding? I wanted to live. I wanted my wife and children to live. Is that enough for you?”

My jaw dropped. Another lie? “What wife and children? Traveling scholars don’t have wives and children.” Keep him talking, Blackthorn. Wait for an opportunity.

“I’ve been wed only five years; my daughters are young. I thought I was safe, Saorla. Far enough away to be out of his reach. What I told you—the first part—that was mostly true. Getting away after the plot failed. Staying away, sheltered in the monasteries for years and years. But I met Banba. Met and fell in love. Wed and moved into the nearby village, in Mide. And Mathuin found me. Found me and gave me a mission: track you down and bring you back. If I didn’t succeed, my wife and daughters would be killed. He . . . he described what he would do. In detail. You know Mathuin; you can imagine. There was no choice.”

I thought of my baby in the fire. To save him, I would have been prepared to offer up my own life, my freedom, all my worldly goods. But track down an old and trusted friend and deliver her up to gods knew what vile fate? Tell lie after lie to make it happen? Not care who else got killed or hurt along the way? I hoped I would have had the strength to spit in Mathuin’s poxy face.

“There’s always a choice,” I said. “Getting it right can be the hardest thing of all. I wrestled with the choice you gave me. Changed my mind over and over, until I knew what I must do.” I drew a breath, glancing at the fire. Could I snatch a burning brand, somehow use that to make him drop the weapon?