“We might walk part of the way to St. Olcan’s with you,” I said to Flannan. “Surely Geiléis won’t object if we have a monk as escort. Grim and I can come back through the woods, gather an herb or two and have a look around on the way.”

“So, not quite breaking the rules?” Flannan flashed a grin.

“They’re not my rules. We’ll be fine if we exercise common sense. Stick to the path. Stay together. Head for home if anything odd happens. And don’t let the screaming get to us.”

“I’d best go and pack up my things,” Flannan said. “I don’t quite trust that fellow to leave well alone, and I suppose the monkish escort will be here any moment. I’ll leave you to your breakfast.”

When Flannan was gone, Grim put down his spoon and looked across the table at me.

“What?” I said, unable to sound less than snappish. I was tired. I didn’t especially want to say good-bye to Flannan, even if he wouldn’t be far away. And I didn’t want the complication I could see was coming. Grim looked uneasy. Almost unwell. “You disagree with the plan?”

“No need to go to the monastery. You want to find herbs, you want to have a closer look at the tower, we should go the other way. Toward the river.”

“It’ll be useful to know the way to St. Olcan’s,” I said. “We’ll be wanting to talk to everyone in the district, monks included. Someone must know more about the monster and how it came to be here. Monks know a lot of old stories.” He really was pale. “Are you all right? You look terrible.”

The door opened, and in came a youngish man with the part-shaven head of a Christian cleric. His homespun habit, his rope sandals and the wooden cross at his belt completed the picture. “Oh,” he said, looking around the chamber. “My apologies; I was looking for Master Flannan, the scholar.”

Since, as far as I knew, the fellow had never seen Flannan before, this was a backhanded insult to Grim. “Gone to pack up his belongings,” I said. “You’re the escort, I presume?” If he could be rude, I could be ruder.

“So sorry—my name is Dufach. Yes, sent by Father Tomas to accompany Master Flannan to our foundation at St. Olcan’s. And you are . . . ?”

“Blackthorn. A healer. A wise woman.” Just to make it quite clear. If Father Tomas’s community was going to object to me, best get it over quickly. “This is Grim. We’re friends of Flannan’s. But we’ll be staying here with Lady Geiléis.”

The monk gave a nod. The expression on his face told me he had no idea what to make of us. Perhaps Lady Geiléis had few visitors. Though if what she had told us was correct, St. Olcan’s must see many linger within its scholarly walls. Or must have done, before the monster came.

“Are your devotions much disturbed by this creature at the ford?” I asked him. “I know you are a little farther away, but its voice is loud. Lady Geiléis has told us of a curse . . .”