“But Lady Geiléis’s monster exists now,” Flannan pointed out. “And it sounds as strange and wondrous as the oldest tale in the world.”

“Indeed, Master Flannan.” Geiléis’s tone was cool. “When we reach Bann, you can assess for yourself how accurate my description was. Though you, I suppose, will continue on to St. Olcan’s. You will find Father Tomas hospitable.” She frowned. “But perhaps you have visited that foundation before in your wanderings.”

“I have not, Lady Geiléis, though it has long been known to me by reputation. I look forward to spending some time there.” Flannan glanced at me. “And to assisting Blackthorn with her quest, should she need me.”

“You are old friends, I gather.”

“We knew each other long ago.” I hoped my tone would cut off further questions. “As for assisting me, Flannan, it would certainly be useful if you spoke to the monks at St. Olcan’s about the monster. The older men in particular. You may dismiss ancient tales as fantastical, but they often contain the solutions to puzzles; the answers to mysteries. One of those monks may know something that will help us.”

“I have spoken to Father Tomas about this, of course. On numerous occasions.” Lady Geiléis rose to her feet, brushing down her skirt. “He had nothing to add to what I already know. Rumors, whispers suggesting this is not the first time the creature has haunted the Tower of Thorns. Hints that it can only be driven away on Midsummer Eve. Those snippets did not come from the brethren at St. Olcan’s, but from folk out in the community.”

“I’ll be talking to them as well,” I said. “As will Grim. The more we can find out before midsummer, the better our chances of success.” Grim had contributed nothing at all to this conversation. He hadn’t moved from his spot under the tree.

“Of course, your man would also be welcome to stay at St. Olcan’s.” Geiléis gave Grim a brief glance. “He could ask his questions there while you did so more widely. No doubt you’ll receive requests for your services as a healer. As I mentioned, we have neither wise woman nor druid close to Bann. If folk ask, you must say no. We have so little time.”

“It’s up to Blackthorn if she says yes or no.” Grim spoke at last, making no concessions to courtesy. “That’s her job, tending to sick folk. What if a babe was wrong way round, or someone got a nasty kick in the head from a cart horse? You wanting her to say, Sorry, I’m too busy to save your life?”

“You defend her with some passion.” This time Geiléis’s gaze stayed on him longer, and he flushed.

“Just saying.”

“He’s right.” I hated to see that look on Grim’s face, the one that appeared when folk treated him like a simpleton or doubted his judgment. He was all too ready to believe their assessment of him true. “Under circumstances like those I would feel obliged to help; that’s what a wise woman does. I understand the need to find a solution for you before midsummer, Lady Geiléis. And yes, time is short. But I can’t make any promises other than that Grim and I will both do our best. I’ve already made that clear. And as for accommodation, it’s more convenient if Grim and I are housed together. That rules out St. Olcan’s.” In fact, if I decided to go south with Flannan, having Grim stay elsewhere could make evading him easier when the time came. But I wouldn’t suggest that now—it would alert him to something not right. We always stayed together. He couldn’t get through the nights on his own.