“If there was a row boat,” Ayradyss mused aloud, “and the passengers weren’t very tall or ducked down, then they could get into the caverns this way. And if they knew the way through the caverns they could get right into the castle.”
“Aye,” said the blindfolded ghost. “The way was known in my day, known and used sometimes for a wee bit of smuggling, sometimes for darker purposes.”
“I wonder if John knows?”
“Beggin’ th’ lady’s pardon,” the crusader said, “but I’m doubtin’ that he does. The laird has shown nae mind for these reaches and the villagers have long forgotten that the way exists. The castle was naught but a rubble heap this great long while.”
“I must remember to show him. It may amuse him. I hope I can find my way back again.”
From above, Volt’s voice wafted down. “Mistress, I have been recording our explorations in case you wished to review your journey later. I could easily print out a map.”
“Very good. Tell me, have you been making a visual recording, or simply keeping track of our progress?”
“I have been recording the distance traveled and the direction. Would a visual recording have been more appropriate?”
“No, Voit, you’ve done fine. I was simply wondering whether a video would have captured the ghosts.”
“I do not believe so, mistress. I am only marginally aware of their presence and my awareness is based largely on audio indications that cannot be explained in any other fashion. As they do not register on my optical receptors, I must deduce that they would not register on a camera either.”
“Very interesting.”
Ayradyss strolled down the water’s edge, the wailing woman drifting beside her. Although the villagers had forgotten the existence of the cavern, the waters had carried traces of their presence: lengths of fishnet, a broken buoy, a candy wrapper (this already nearly degraded). There was older trash mixed in the flotsam and jetsam, hardy trash that predated the stringent recycling regulations of the past century. Some of the beer cans and soda bottles might very well be valuable antiques; Ayradyss had seen their like in antique shops around the globe. Perhaps later she would collect some of them and compare them against a price guide.
“There is more to these caverns than you’ve shown me,” she said to the caoineag. “I’m certain of that.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“A feeling, nothing more. A feeling and perhaps the presence of the blindfolded one. He would not be here if all these tunnels led to were a series of little caverns and one smuggler’s route.”
“Clever. What if I told you that you were correct, that there was something more?”
“I would ask you to guide me to it.”
“Even if it was dangerous?”
“It is in my cellar. I should know what my castle holds, shouldn’t I?”
“Many a laird and lady of this castle has gone to the grave not knowing what these tunnels contained. Such knowledge is hardly a requisite for tenancy.”
“I am asking politely. Surely that counts for something.”
“Perhaps it does, now that you mention it. Already that mechanical creature knows more of these tunnels than many who have tried to chart them. There is a tendency to misestimate their complexity.”
“Interesting. Does this mean you will show me the secrets?”
“Lest you attempt to ferret them out with your mechanical allies? Perhaps, though I wonder if they could find what I could show you. Understand, though, my willingness to guide you does not significantly detract from the potential dangers.”
“I understand… and I am still interested.”
“The way can only be found when the moon is full.”
“The full moon is just past!”
“I am sorry, but this has always been the rule.”
“Then I must abide by it, I suppose. A month more and I will be a bit more bulky but certainly not confined to my chambers.”
“Then I shall make arrangements. If it can be done, I will be your guide.”
“Wait!”
“Yes?”
“Will I see you again before the full moon?”
“Do you wish to? My presence is said to be a thing of ill omen.”
“I thought that was your wail.”
“People often confuse one with the other.”
“Yes, I would like to see you. We could continue exploring the mundane aspects of these caverns. Or… you expressed interest in the book I was reading. I could read to you if you are unable to do so yourself.”
“Tempting. Handling material artifacts is wearying. Yes, I would rather like that.”
“And I would like your company. There are certain metaphysical issues that you and the other ghosts are more equipped to discuss than even John—and I find myself rather obsessed with questions of life and death. As hard as I try to forget, something of Deep Fields still clings to me. I would like to put it from me before the baby is born.”
“Philosophical discussion and books. Yes, that sounds quite interesting. I am certain that a few of the others would join us. The crusader is a direct soul, as are most of those whose company he enjoys, but there are those among the castle’s spectral inhabitants who would enjoy such quiet visits.”
“Very well. Let us plan such an afternoon sometime soon. I do try to save my evenings for John.”
The wailing woman turned and faced Ayradyss, her green-grey gaze piercing the touch of cheer that Ayradyss had put into her tone when she spoke of John.
“You are troubled by what you perceive as your husband’s neglect, are you not, Ayradyss? You fear that here in Verite you have lost something of the love that you nurtured in Virtu. Is this so?”
“Yes.” The word was spoken so softly as to be nearly inaudible.
“John D’Arcy Donnerjack loves you no less. Believe me in this, if you can believe one with a reputation such as mine. He deeply regrets the deal that he made with the Lord of the Lost to gain your return. He has already asked that one to accept something other than your child. The Lord of Deep Fields refused. Much of the work Donnerjack does is meant to keep Death from claiming his due.”
“Why doesn’t he talk to me about this?”
The crusader ghost clanked to join them, his chain seeming more solid, more impeding than ever before.
“Because, lass, he’s a man and has a man’s foolish pride. He fears your reproaching him for what he has done, wants to bring you a solution, not a worry. But never doubt that he loves you, you and the wee bairn beneath your heart.”
“John…”
Ayradyss knelt and gathered a few of the beer bottles from the shoreline.
“Voit, help me with these, if you would. I should have something to take back and show John. He did say he wanted to hear about my adventures.”
“Gladly, mistress.”
“I should hurry back. I don’t want to miss dinner.”
“According to my chronometer, you have some hours yet, mistress.”
“Good.”
She turned her face, sad, yet strangely radiant, toward the three ghosts.
“You don’t mind, do you?”
“Not at all, lass. We’ve lots of time, time for dreamin’, time for explorin’. You be getting back to the laird and tell him all about what you’ve seen today.”
“Thank you.” She gestured as if she would hug the insubstantial trio. “You’ve been such an enormous help. We will do this again, won’t we?”
One by one, each of the ghosts nodded; one by one, they winked out. Ayradyss handed a final bottle to the hovering robot. Then she turned her steps away from the hidden sea. The sound of it lapping against the gravel shore bid her adieu.