He straightens as though suddenly interested in me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him stand so tall, and it gives me a fright. However, for one reason or another, my directness coerces an answer out of him. “I’ve nothing of the sort here, but in Caisgard there’s a great library, the largest one in this quarter of Amaranda. Once belonged to the Duke of Sands, but the family turned it public some fifty years ago. Perhaps you’ll find what you need there.”
I release the stone and rub my hand. Caisgard is the closest city to us, some three hours away on horseback. I wonder if this library is affiliated with the college there. I’ve only been to Caisgard twice in my life, both times with my paternal grandparents. The second time, my grandfather took me to meet with a professor, and it ended disastrously. The man had looked me in the eye and insisted women had no place at the college.
I shake the memory from my head. The largest library I’ve ever visited is the single shelf of books in the apothecary’s shop, so the thought of the greatest library in our quarter of the kingdom sends a thrill across my back. Even for just a day, it would be . . . nice . . . to dive into literature, to feed this hunger always gaping in the back of my mind. Of course, I won’t have the time to explore to my heart’s content—I’ll need to limit my research to my immediate predicament.
“Thank you.”
He eyes me, but doesn’t ask for payment, so I turn from the shop and step back into the sunlight.
I mull over my options. I cannot take my father with me—he will need too much tending, and I must focus on the task at hand. But I will need to offer him a convincing excuse for going there alone. I could tell him the truth about everything . . . yet I can’t predict his reaction. Nor can I trust him to keep secrets, and I direly need Maekallus to remain a secret, else Fendell will hunt me as though I were a mysting myself. Perhaps I can convince him I need more herbs for the garden, something strong to be used against goblers. If I put enough emotion into it, maybe I can persuade—
“Enna?”
I pause, noting that I’ve nearly stepped off the cobbled path, and look up to see Tennith with one of his brothers. My thoughts leave me for a moment, flying away like dandelion seeds. Tennith says something to his brother, who nods and continues up the path, leaving us alone.
I can still feel the pressure of Tennith’s lips on mine, the smell of his clothes—
“You look concerned,” he says, approaching me. He’s had a day of hard labor; dirt and sweat stain his homespun shirt. He reaches out and touches my arm.
My thoughts piece themselves back together, and before I realize what I’m saying, the first one tumbles from my mouth. “I’m going to Caisgard.”
His hand drops. “Caisgard? What for?”
I hesitate, but I cannot think of a good lie, or a good enough reason to lie. “There’s a library there I wish to visit. I keep an herb garden of sorts. Protection against the wilds. I think there’s much more I can do, but I need to research it first.”
He looks impressed. “I didn’t know you could read.”
I didn’t realize he could not.
He considers for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip, which only makes me think again of the side of his barn and the dark of night. Uninvited, Maekallus rises in my thoughts, oozing and wheezing. I rub my eyes with my fingers and smudge the image until it’s indecipherable.
“Do you . . . want an escort?”
I drop my hands. I had not expected such an offer. The word no weighs my tongue, but I hold it there, considering. I cannot take my father. But I, a single woman, should not travel to Caisgard alone.
“Truly?” The word is almost a whisper.
Tennith leans on one foot. “Harvest isn’t ready yet, and Pa has mentioned wanting a new milking cow. They have good stock in Caisgard. I think it can be arranged for next week.”
“No, it must be tomorrow,” I blurt. And yet . . . even if we leave on the morrow and return the same night, it might be too late. Even now, the wound on my hand throbs, the bandage growing bloody. I keep it pressed into my side to hide the black tendrils reaching toward my fingers.
I press my lips together. There’s a slim chance this will work, but it’s a chance nonetheless. I must go.
“Is it so urgent?” asks Tennith.
I run my thumbnail along the smoothness of the Telling Stone. “I’m afraid so.”
He rubs his chin. “Then I will speak to my father this afternoon. I don’t foresee him needing the wagon. Though if you can ride horseback, it would be better.”
I bounce on my toes with elation. “Yes, I can ride. Tennith, thank you.”
He smiles at me. His smile is different from Maekallus’s. Kinder, yet . . . plainer, in a way. An expected smile. “Let’s plan for an hour after dawn?”
I thank him again, and hurry on my way. I have to prepare. I have to convince my father—
I have to kiss Maekallus.
My steps slow. The mortal realm hasn’t devoured him yet, but it will, and this time the blight is spreading more quickly. I don’t know how long he will last, I only know I need to buy myself as much time as possible.
Only a piece, I remind myself. It should only be a piece, right?
Distracted, I purchase bandages, food for the journey, thread. Return home and speak to my father in a soothing voice, massaging the stone between my fingers as I tell him of Caisgard and Tennith, of how he needs to stay and protect the house. It takes a little persuading, but not nearly as much as I expected. Perhaps he senses the need I have for this. Perhaps he is more perceptive than I give him credit for. And he will be safe, for a day. He is forgetful, but he is not incapable. He proved as much with the first gobler.
I prepare for the journey, finishing too soon, and cook a hearty dinner for us to enjoy together. While we eat, I try to savor my father’s company, listening to the stories he never tires of telling and that I never tire of hearing. I sit with my back to the fire, facing him in his chair, so that he won’t notice the bandage on my right hand, only the glistening treasure on my left.
I kiss him goodnight, claiming the need to turn in early for my journey on the morrow, then slip out of the house with my stone, a crown of oon berry, and the silver dagger. Trifles unlikely to offer much protection against my increasingly foolish ventures. The sunset turns from orange to pink to violet. A shiver warns of distant mystings—there’s been more activity in these parts than usual—but they’re not moving toward me, and the warning soon fades. It takes me longer to reach the clearing this time, for the weariness of my lost soul is compounded by the exertion of the day. I don’t rush, though darkness looms, and the wildwood surrounds me. Perhaps I am more a fool than I thought, if these shadowed trees no longer frighten me.
I hear him breathing before I see him. He’s moved across the glade, holding on to a low branch of a young birch. His bandage is scarlet. Black pocks his skin like freckles, and I wonder what they feel like. Are they painless, like the mark of the gobler’s hand on my arm, or do they burn, like the bite of a newly spent match?
I almost ask him.
“I’m going to a library in the neighboring city.” I cross the glade halfway, standing close to where the thin line of light pierces the ground. “There may be books there to aid me. The apothecary seemed to think so, and he once studied the supernatural.”
He looks at me, gaze luminescent. “Still trying to use humans to solve a demon’s problems?”