Flannan frowned. “I can’t say it is. Bann—that’s close to the monastic foundation of St. Olcan’s, isn’t it? Quite some distance west of here?”

“That’s what she said, yes. Have you been there?”

“Not yet. What was this tale?”

I gave him the bare essentials: the tower, the howling monster, the hedge of thorns, the so-called curse that had set a blight on the land all around and made the ford impassable. “Lady Geiléis mentioned the monks using birds to carry messages. But what’s happened makes travel difficult, especially to the west of her holdings. There’s a roundabout way, but it’s long and inconvenient. The oddest thing was that Lady Geiléis seemed to think this had all happened before, in the time of her ancestors. Possibly more than once.”

“You’re intrigued by the tale. I see it in your eyes.”

“You do?” Flannan had been in the habit of teasing, back in the old days; it had been hard, sometimes, to tell whether he was serious or not.

“I recognize that look. You always did like a challenge.”

I dropped my gaze. “That was a long time ago. I’m a different woman now. Lady Geiléis must find help elsewhere. I’m looking after Lady Flidais; I’ve promised to deliver her child.” It wasn’t a lie; just half the truth. Nobody knew about my promise to Conmael—nobody but Grim—and I planned to keep it that way.

There was a silence. Then Flannan said, “Even with my limited knowledge of such matters, I can see that Lady Flidais’s child is unlikely to be born for some time. Would you not be able to go to Bann, sort out the monster, and return before her confinement?”

“Sort out the monster? Who do you think I am, Cú Chulainn?”

“I feel sure this puzzle would not be beyond your considerable abilities,” Flannan said. “Cass once told me he believed you could do anything you wanted to.”

Sudden tears pricked my eyes. “He was wrong,” I said. “If I’d been able to do anything I wanted, I would have saved him. I would have saved Brennan. That’s where my so-called abilities led me—into losing everything I cared about. Into letting that foul wretch Mathuin defeat me.”

Flannan’s look was painfully direct. “You’re defeated? Or merely delayed on your quest? Which is it?”

This was close to the bone. It was uncomfortable. “I don’t have a quest. And I wasn’t expecting an inquisition.”

His manner softened straightaway. “I’m sorry. I have spent too long on my own, poring over books; forgotten my manners.” He rose to his feet, ready to leave.

“I don’t need manners from an old friend. Only honesty. I can’t go to Bann because I gave Lady Flidais my word. And there are folk back at Winterfalls who rely upon my being there to look after them. And . . .”

A silence; he was giving me time to collect myself.

“I’ve been beaten down over the years, Flannan. Hammered flat. Every time I picked myself up, there was a bit less of me left. I’ve been through things nobody would want to hear about. It’s the same for Grim. Lady Geiléis’s monster in the tower intrigues me, yes. But experience tells me getting involved would be complicated. I don’t want a quest. The life I’ve got now is enough. Let the druid help Lady Geiléis. He’ll do as good a job of it as anyone can.”