“Should be moving on,” muttered Grim. “Time being so short and all.”

“Indeed,” said Flannan, rising in his turn. “Quite apart from that, I’m becoming somewhat saddle weary. The relative comforts of a monastery are starting to sound quite appealing.”

13

Grim

It’s hard. No chance to talk to Blackthorn on her own, no chance to tell her what I’ve seen. Hoping when we get to Bann we’ll have a spot that’s just ours, bit of privacy. She’d want to know. Odd, it was. Oddest thing I’ve seen since we’ve been on the road together. Odder even than Conmael and his cronies popping up out of nowhere the way they do. And it could be useful.

Don’t know if she heard what I heard. A howling, long way off, sad enough to bring tears. Reminded me of looking down at Strangler’s face after I’d heaved him out of the lockup and hauled him to safety in the woods. Looking down and seeing his dead eyes. Reminded me of . . . No. Won’t think of what’s coming and the bad dreams that’ll come with it. Got to be strong. Got to set all that aside. But this sound was sad as sad. Was it the monster? No knowing. Only after I heard it the birds all went quiet.

Turned back for the camp thinking I’d tell Blackthorn. Then I saw something. Long grass moving a few strides from me, like there was a creature there, a rabbit or squirrel. Reached for my knife, thinking of fresh meat for supper. Thing started running, and I got a better look. Wasn’t any sort of animal, at least not one I’ve got a name for. It was something in a fur cloak with a hood. Little thing with a basket. Going on two legs. Only as high as my knee. There, then gone. Didn’t see its face. Gave me the creeps. Gave me that tingling feeling I get in Dreamer’s Wood. The fey. Only not Conmael’s kind. Something else.

Can’t tell her, though. Flannan’s right beside her, talking and waving his hands around, and there’s Lady Geiléis listening in to everything. Can’t come straight-out and ask if the fey live around here, and if some of them are tiny folk. You’d think she’d have said. So I keep my mouth shut.

After a bit we ride on. The lady sends two of her men ahead to tell her folk we’re nearly there. Whatever it was I heard, it’s stopped now. We take a winding way past some farms and some woods. Nobody comes out to pass the time of day. Feels odd. So quiet here, not a soul in sight. Glad to see smoke rising from a hearth fire and a couple of cows heading into a barn, so I know we haven’t wandered into some different world, an empty one.

The track passes through a beech wood. Pretty spot, little stream gurgling by, afternoon sun through the leaves. Path gets steeper. Big rocks under the trees. We slow down. Don’t want any horses going lame.