Twenty-seven

Lady Bellecote’s father was Scottish, she explained. In friendlier times, she’d wed an Englishman, who’d died of a fever a few years before, but her family had always lived on the border, and her brother even closer to the English.

“I visited from time to time in my girlhood,” she said, and a nostalgic smile had only a moment to live on her face before her lips tightened. “Even then, I heard a few of the stories, and in time I managed to get the rest out of my brother… What he knew of it, at any rate. I was only curious then. What youngster doesn’t like a grisly tale?”

Madoc chuckled in agreement. “I think I knew of every ghost supposed to be on our lands by the time I was ten, and I might have made up a few that I felt were wanting. But you sound as though your brother took this other man more seriously than I ever did my ghosts.”

“Quite so. Richard’s men are well trained, and there are many of them. In those days, there was not the war to give a man license for a little private conquest. He was safe, and yet he was always wary. The guard was ever heavier to the west, and the scouts more vigilant, and he wouldn’t visit Valerius as he did any other lord close at hand.” She gestured in apology, the light catching on light-blue and deep-pink gemstones as her fingers moved. Topaz and beryl, Sophia thought immediately: protection, healing, and calm; the sun and the moon. “I saw nothing of the land over the border.”

“But you heard accounts.” Cathal was leaning forward in his chair, hands together on the table in front of him. The tension about him, the air of waiting and yet preparing, reminded Sophia of the moment before his transformation.

Lady Bellecote nodded. “Merchants would pass through on occasion. The occasional freeman would flee…though I was given to understand that Valerius’s rule was livable for most people, most of the time. Particularly those farther away from his lordship’s castle itself. His eye and his whims did most of the damage—his and the worst of his men—although…” She stopped, looking uneasy.

“Whatever you say, I swear the rest of us will believe it,” said Douglas.

Won over, but not entirely convinced, the lady spoke the rest of her sentence quickly, as if not wanting to think about it herself. “Although they say that the land is poisoned. And it was true, from what the merchants say, that the crops were never truly good there. Adequate at best. And that, again, was better the further out one went.”

Sophia remembered the wet earth in her dreams: the sucking noises with every step and the smell of rotting meat. Her breath stuck in her throat.

“What was the cause of that, then?” Madoc asked. For him, as with his quieter father, Sophia could see that the interest was casual. He was serious, not mocking, but it was curiosity with him, not the weighty matter that it was for her and Cathal, or even for Douglas and Alice.

She was glad of it. That meant he could ask questions, perhaps even those she wouldn’t think of.

“Any number of things, depending on who you asked,” said Lady Bellecote. “But always death. There was a tale that he’d married five wives and killed each when they got with child. There was one that he had to eat a human heart every full moon. And then there was a tale that he made a bargain with the devil and killed his father to seal it. That one made me think of what your sister said, my lord. Peasant superstition, mayhap, but…”

The Welshmen crossed themselves, and Douglas belatedly joined them. “No way to know, I suppose.”

“Well, his father was killed, I think, and a man hung for it. There were people, when I was a girl, who remembered that much for a fact, only…” She hesitated again, but this time not long enough for anyone else to urge her on. “They were all old. That could have been a child’s perspective—everyone is old when you’re fourteen—but even so, the man must have sixty or seventy years by now.”

Cathal nodded. “Moiread hinted at that much, and that’s a grim notion. I didn’t fight an old man. Not to look at.”

“The wages of sin,” Lord Avondos said. “Death, mayhap, but a death long in coming?”

“In truth, the tales I heard of his behavior would make the pact with Satan in character, whether it existed or no. The merchants were spared the worst of it, but they saw enough, and those who fled went for good reason. I’ll not repeat details unless you request it of me, gentle sirs,” she added, her nostrils flaring with remembered revulsion, “and certainly not at table.”

“He must have friends at court, then, to get away with it as long as this,” said Alice.

“And so it could be,” said Madoc, his gray eyes thoughtful, “as he seems to be doing the English bidding now, but it could also be that he dwells on the border. His estate would be a long way from the places and people the English kings value, yes? Would Longshanks or his father have cared overmuch what the man did with his own vassals, so long as he kept the likes of our hosts out of London?”

“Didn’t succeed, then, did he?” Cathal said, breaking the tension further with a wolfish smile. “I’ve been there. Douglas in Westminster, though, is indeed a prospect to make a man’s blood run cold—”

“You should thank Christ there are ladies present, pup,” Douglas said amiably.

Laughter rippled around the table, and there was ease in it, but Sophia couldn’t let herself be drawn away from the original subject, unpleasant as it was. “Your pardon, my lady,” she said, “but in all of these stories, did anyone ever speak Valerius’s name? The one he was christened with, I mean to say.”

Closing her eyes, Lady Bellecote was silent for a long moment, during which Sophia did her best not to hope—and finally justified that effort by shaking her head. “If they did, it’s slipped my mind long since. I’m sorry.”

“No, not at all,” Sophia replied.

“But,” said Cathal, “you could tell us how to reach his lands, aye?”

“Oh, certainly.”

* * *

The directions Lady Bellecote gave would have taken a man with a horse several weeks to follow. “And that may be the best way,” Douglas said, when Sophia and Alice had joined him and Cathal in private quarters, “even if it’s not the fastest. No question that Valerius would dearly love to get one of our family nearer to his place of power.”

“He may not even be there,” said Cathal. “He and his men were far afield when I met him. Truce or no, it’ll take them a fair bit of time to return, unless he has greater powers than I’ve yet seen.”

“Aye, or he’d been closer to home at the time of the truce, or gone home with his missing arm.”

Cathal shrugged. “Then we’ll settle the matter all the quicker… Ah, damn.” He glanced to Sophia, clearly hoping that his sudden thought might not be accurate, but she had to nod confirmation. There was no knowing what Valerius’s death might do to Fergus.

“And dawn breaks,” said Douglas. “The tricky bit when the other man’s taken hostages, lad, is that setting fire to the building generally doesna’ work very well.”

“Thank you,” Cathal said, not quite through gritted teeth. “But every day that goes by is another day when Valerius might find a way to make the curse go forward again…or another means of attack,” he added with a glance toward Sophia.

“There is that,” Douglas admitted and turned himself to regard Sophia, who sat still and tried not to squirm under the collective attention. “The dreams and the demons. The man’s too familiar with other worlds.”

“Other worlds?” Sophia broke her silence. “I knew the demon wasn’t from the earth, of course, and I had my suspicions about the place of the dreams. I’d read things, but I’d no way of knowing it was true. My lord,” she added, aware of Cathal’s grin.

Douglas didn’t smile, but neither did he look reproving, only solemn and thoughtful. “It sounds true. This world contains, or touches on, many others. You can reach some of them by dreams or trances, sure enough, and if you’ve taken both harm and plunder from the place you visit, I would wager it’s real.”

“Do you know it?” Alice asked. “Could you go there?”

“To the portion that Valerius has shaped? Mayhap, if Sophia were there already. Not, I think, without a link of that sort. And once there, I doubt I could do more than she has against the wizard. Until we know more, his defenses will hold.” Douglas took a slow sip of wine.

“Best we find out quickly,” Cathal said, “as was my point. As I can’t kill the man, I can be human and stay out of his sight while I ask questions.”

“Can you? With a magician who doubtless knows what to look for?” Douglas snorted. “I very much doubt it. He’s seen you before, and he’ll know you’ve reason to come after him. The man or his creatures will mark you five minutes after you’ve crossed the borders.”

Cathal leaned forward, hands on the table. The firelight showed the rich colors in his plaid, the same pattern as Douglas’s, but the faces above them were far apart in expression. “You can’t be sure of that. We can’t wait. And with you here and Moiread returning, it’s only my neck that I’m risking.”

“Unless Valerius claims your mind and uses you against us. Or uses your body as a way into the castle,” said Douglas. “You never understood magic, and this is more complex than charging a line of spearmen. Be guided by wiser heads, will you?”

The way the two of them glared at each other, there might have been nobody else in the room. Sophia didn’t know whether she expected the air to burst into flames first, or one of the MacAlasdair brothers to throw a punch, but she knew she had to nerve herself to speak before they did—and she knew that Douglas was right. Connections made magic.

“Honestly,” said Alice, shaking her head the way she’d always done over her sons, and her siblings before that. “Good sirs, I’ll do it.”

Both men swung their heads around to look at her, and although their forms didn’t change at all, in that moment Sophia could easily see the dragons under their skins. If they hadn’t both looked poleaxed, it would have been terrifying. As it was, she bit back the urge to giggle.

“You?” Cathal frowned, but not angrily. “Could work.”

“Yes, it could,” Alice said. “You fly me to the border of Valerius’s lands, or as far in as you think you can get before he notices you. I’ll go further in and ask questions. Sophia can tell me what I seek, though I suspect I know much of it already. Once I find it, I’ll return to you, and we’ll fly back here.”

She said the word fly as if it were poison, but otherwise she spoke briskly and unflinchingly.

“It’s dangerous,” Douglas said. “You do know that, madam.”

“I think I’m more aware than you are, my lord,” said Alice, “having seen at least the signs of his creatures. If I sought perfect safety, I would have remained in France. And if you,” she added, rounding on Sophia just as she’d been about to protest, “can draw this man’s attention such that he’s throwing you into other worlds and setting demons upon you, then I can very well go to this man’s land and talk to his people. I’m quite human, and quite ordinary, and nobody notices women unless we’ve titles.”

“He’ll have human minions, as well as the magical sort,” said Cathal. “Not pleasant men.”

“There are plenty of unpleasant men in the world. I’ll do my best to avoid them. With any luck, most of them will still be out looting battlefields.”

Sophia bit back her protest. The errand was necessary. If Alice was willing, Sophia wouldn’t degrade her sacrifice by trying to talk her out of it. For the second time that night, she reached over to Alice and took her hand.

From her other side, though there was no physical touch, she felt Cathal’s gaze on her face. “I’ll do all that I can,” he said when she turned to look at him. His eyes met hers squarely; he wouldn’t insult her with more reassurance.