“Quite sure, Lady Geiléis. Can your household not accommodate my request?”

“Senach,” says the lady, “show Mistress Blackthorn and her . . . friend to the guest quarters. Dau, take Master Flannan to the men’s quarters, and arrange for all of our visitors to be provided with hot water for bathing. The dog will need to be fed; I’m sure you can find something suitable.” She looks at Blackthorn again, then at me, but holds back whatever it is she wants to say. I’m guessing she doesn’t want to offend Blackthorn, because she needs her problem solved. And if she didn’t know Blackthorn had a mind of her own when we left court, she must know now. “I wish you a good night’s rest.”

“Just one thing.”

“Yes, Mistress Blackthorn?”

“The stairs to that higher level of the house—where are they?”

“The high chamber is accessible only through my private quarters.”

“I see,” says Blackthorn, maybe not so tired after all. “Since I was unable to watch and listen as the creature fell quiet at sunset, I would like to be present in the morning when it wakes. Shall I knock on your door a little before dawn?”

Something funny going on here. Beyond me.

“Let us delay this one more day, Mistress Blackthorn. That was a long ride. I, for one, intend to sleep late tomorrow.”

“We don’t have a lot of time,” Blackthorn says. “As you’ve pointed out.”

“True; but one day will make no great difference. Besides, you’ll be wanting to take breakfast with Master Flannan before he leaves, since the two of you are old friends.” Never mind that the creature starts its noise at dawn, according to the story, and Flannan’s not going to be rushing off to this monastery as early as that. Though the brothers will be early risers. That I know.

“The day after tomorrow, then,” Blackthorn says. “I’ve no wish to disturb you in your private quarters, but if that’s the only stairway to your tower I’ll need to do so, more than once. I want to hear how it starts and stops. I want to see if anything changes.”

“I have watched it over and over, Mistress Blackthorn.”

“And learned nothing from it,” Blackthorn says, blunt as ever. “Isn’t that why I’m here?”

“We are all weary,” says the lady. She looks it, same as Blackthorn. Pale as pale, her eyes all dark shadows. “I will accommodate your needs in due course. Now I’ll bid you good night. If you need anything, ring the bell in your quarters and my folk will attend you.”

14

Geiléis

It seemed to Geiléis that the mirror lied. The woman in the polished bronze was every inch a queen. Her golden hair was plaited into a crown. She held her back straight and her head high. Nobody would have doubted that she held control of her own destiny.