“On that, I can make no comment. It is a matter of belief. I myself put little credence in gods of any persuasion.”

Blackthorn smiled. “And yet you put your faith in a cleansing ritual, to be performed by a druid. And now, by myself.”

Ah. She had made an error; for the moment, she had forgotten this. “To be quite truthful, Blackthorn, my faith in the ritual is limited. But I am desperate. Anything that may serve to quiet the creature, or to bring some reassurance to the local people, I am happy to try.” The healing ritual would at least keep the wise woman busy for a while. “You must let us know what we can do to assist with your preparations.”

Blackthorn crumbled a piece of bread in her fingers. “How far away are your farm communities? Villages or settlements? All the folk that live on your holdings should be invited to attend the ritual. We’ll need to give them time to get here. Maybe you could ride out with the message, Grim. One of Geiléis’s guards could go with you. And I’ll need to walk down through the forest and have a look at the tower.”

Geiléis’s heart clenched tight. She made herself draw a deep breath before she spoke. “The local people . . . yes, of course they must be invited, but I do not think many will come. The presence of the creature . . . it is like a malady that creeps into the very hearts of folk and robs them of good purpose. It turns hope to despair; it steals away the future. So many of our young men have traveled away, seeking better opportunities, and have chosen not to return . . . Those left behind have become disheartened; they have lost the will to keep trying. It has become harder and harder to keep the animals healthy, the houses watertight, the crops sown and harvested in season. Fences, bridges, pathways are not maintained. One must travel many miles to find a blacksmith or a thatcher. We have no druid or wise woman. That is what I meant by dying. In just such a way may an entire community vanish.”

They were both staring at her now, Grim with a spoonful of porridge halfway between bowl and lips. He set it down uneaten. “Monster’s only been here a year or two, hasn’t it?” he asked. “Seems a bit soon to be giving up. Though it is hard to take. The creature crying, I mean.”

“Geiléis did ride all the way to court to ask for help, Grim,” said Blackthorn.

“Fair enough,” the big man said. “Still, not long, is it? Since the creature came?”

“Believe me,” Geiléis said, “it feels like an age. But no, it is not so long. I understand you may find it startling that such a blight has been cast so quickly. Only . . .”

“Only it’s been here before,” said Blackthorn, quick as always. “And some of the effects of the curse might lie over the land even during the times in between this creature’s visits. Might that be so? Were your parents here before you, Geiléis? And their parents before them?”