Geiléis had been waiting for that question. Answering in a convincing manner would be a test. She’d been relieved that nobody had asked about her family while she was at Cahercorcan, though she’d had the answer ready even then. If King Ruairi had been at court he’d have asked. His father might have told him the story when he was a boy. For once fate had done her a favor. “My parents died when I was quite young,” she said. “I do not recall either of them speaking of the monster. If they had done so, I would have thought it a fanciful tale devised solely for my amusement. Nobody in the neighborhood has any memory of the tower being tenanted before last summer. There are only those half-forgotten stories I spoke of. But . . . you are astute, Blackthorn. When I was a child, this place was my whole world. If there were oddities, I took them as simply the way things were. If an unusual number of young men left the district never to return, if an unusual number of folk chose to end their own lives, if there were some parts of the woods where I was not allowed to go, I accepted it.”

“Were you allowed to go to the Tower of Thorns?” asked Blackthorn. “Did you explore the island where it stands? Folk must have passed close by it all the time when the ford was still open.”

“Main road to the north and all,” put in Grim.

She fought down a sudden wave of impatience. “How can this make any difference?”

“You’ve asked me to solve your problem.” Blackthorn had a rather blunt way about her. Perhaps she too was impatient. “I can’t do that unless you give me the information I ask for. I won’t know if it makes a difference until I put all the pieces together. If it helps, anything you tell us is confidential.” She glanced at Senach, who had remained at his post, quite silent.

“My parents did not let me run wild in the forest. But yes, I crossed the ford, both on foot—possible only if the water is unusually low—and on horseback. I walked between this house and the river, though only on those paths I had been told were safe. As a child, I was forbidden to go to the island. The tower was seen as dangerous, though the reasons for that were never clear. You know already that last year I ventured to that place on Midsummer Eve and tried to cut my way through the hedge of thorn. Tried and failed. Woefully.”

Blackthorn and Grim exchanged a look.

“These safe paths,” Grim said. “Could you show us? Be good to take a look at the tower soon. A close-up look. We’ll be needing to get across to the island.”

A shiver ran through Geiléis. If there was one thing she was sure of, it was that she did not want these two to go tramping about on the island. She did not want a living soul to approach the tower. But how could she forbid it? She had invited them to Bann on the strength of the story she had thought most likely to make an impression on Prince Oran. While that story had not exactly been a lie, it had been far from the complete truth. Blackthorn believed she was here to rid the tower of its unwelcome resident by whatever means she could find. She must therefore be permitted to move about and look at things. A refusal would only make her suspicious, and then she might decide to turn tail and flee. That could not be allowed to happen. “The island,” she said. “Yes, if you wish. It is not easy to reach, but my men-at-arms could escort you over.” She took a steadying breath. “You are not planning to conduct your ritual there, I trust? That would present severe difficulties, as you may imagine.”