Heart's Blood

“Irial.” His tone shut off further questions.“I will deal with the mirror now.You should take time to compose yourself. Start the work afresh tomorrow, and heed Magnus’s warnings in the future. Stick to the job you’ve been hired to do, and don’t interfere with what doesn’t concern you.You can’t expect to understand everything here at Whistling Tor, and there’s no need for you to do so. It’s a place unlike other places. Or so I’m told. I need you to stay. I need the work done.”

He rose and limped into the library, leaving me alone in the walled garden. Irial’s garden, Magnus had called it. My father’s notebooks. It seemed likely Irial had written those meticulous botanical notes I’d looked at earlier, and executed the tiny, exquisite drawings that accompanied them. I glanced at the little book Anluan had left on the seat, wondering if he had been reading his father’s work. It was bound in fine calf leather, tooled with a pattern of leaves, but when I lifted the cover to peep inside, the writing I saw crawling across the creamy parchment was not the spidery script of the gardener’s notebooks, but Anluan’s irregular, labored hand. Someone gave a little cough. I shut the book hastily, not wanting to be caught prying. Muirne was standing about four paces from me, a cup in her hand. She had a disturbing ability to move about with scarcely a sound.

“Thank you,” I said, getting up to take the water from her. Her fingers were cold. “I’m much better now.”

“You saw something that scared you.” It was a statement, not a question. “A mirror?” When I nodded, she said, “There are many stories here. Many memories.This is not an easy place.”

“I’m beginning to realize that,” I said, glad that she was taking the time to speak to me, even if her manner was a little odd.“I suppose I’d better go; I know this is Lord Anluan’s private garden.Will someone call me when it’s suppertime?” I took a sip, then set the cup down on the bench.

“I suppose someone will,” Muirne said.

“Thank you.” Should I add my lady? I had no idea where she belonged in this unusual household, only that if I did not make an effort with her, the summer was going to seem very long. I had thought she might be Anluan’s wife, but he had treated her like a servant. I smiled at her, then walked out under the archway with my mind full of unanswered questions.

chapter three

I couldn’t pluck up the courage to explore, even though Anluan had given me the rest of the day off. I retreated to my unwelcoming bedchamber and sat on the pallet, thinking. Even with the mirror gone, I could hardly bear the idea of stepping back over the library threshold.The job would surely involve delving deeper into Nechtan’s extremely unpleasant life.The little chest might well contain the next part of his journal, in which the experiment he was working up to might be explained in full, repellent detail.

The thought disgusted me. And it fascinated me.To my horror, I realized I wanted to read on. Did Nechtan and his assistant open whatever portal it was and bring forth a fearsome army? Was that even possible? If I used the mirror again, would it open the same window into that man’s dark thoughts? What might I see there?

I shuddered, remembering. Sickening as the scene in the vision had been, equally appalling was the fact that Nechtan had evidently taught his assistant not just the skills of sorcery but also his own warped moral codes. She was the one who had fetched the little dog; that had been her idea. She had chosen to stay in the chamber and watch as Nechtan demonstrated his expertise in torture. In the mirror vision, she had been a presence in the shadows, a figure leaning over to scrub the table, a fall of golden hair. I had never quite seen her face. But her voice had revealed her approval, her admiration, her slavish willingness to help. If Nechtan was the one who had made her that way, Anluan’s great-grandfather had truly been an evil man.