“Sir,” she said, not impatiently, “it’s a risk I need to take. Please, lemme take it.”
If he can help break the curse, what happens then? After a moment, he nodded. “Right. So, how are you going to question him?”
That seemed to throw Slaíne off guard, for she opened and shut her mouth, her brow crumpling. “Hmm. I was rather hoping you would do it with me.”
He had thought so. With a grunt, he put the papers aside and turned back to the girl. “Right. We should probably wait until he’s sober.”
“Yes, that would perhaps be best.”
“Maybe we could rent a dining room downstairs, invite him for a meal, on the pretense of figuring out a way to pay him back for the table or whatever it is he claims was flawed.” Aidan poured himself some of the beer and took but a sip before setting it aside. “No, we both need a clear head. And we had better be ready to run, should he turn on us.” Overcome with some conflicting emotions, he went back to the maps on his bed and Dismissed the ones he didn’t think he’d get around to studying. When he trusted himself to speak, he said, “We’ll leave early tomorrow morning. Now, I’ll try to figure out where our next steps should take us.”
“Thank you, sir. Means a lot to me.”
Aidan simply nodded and went back to work.
* * *
After studying the map and papers for an hour, Aidan realized he would have to try something else. The map was incomprehensible, save for the fact that they would need to head north, and the clues were all vague riddles. It was time to see if Salem’s words could have any worth, though he was still cross with and uncertain of the man who had hit him in the face with a shovel.
Seeing that Slaíne was on the other side of the room and otherwise occupied, Aidan sat on the edge of his bed and closed his eyes. Her Pull was going to be a distraction he would have to feel around, and he needed a clear head that evening, but he reached out and started exploring different Pulls. He started with what was closest and strongest: Slaíne’s Pull. Having located and centered in on it, he reached beyond it and into the inn. There were dozens of individual human Pulls, nothing familiar or distracting, so he moved beyond those and into the outer village. Here was where it started to become more difficult. The Pulls outside were distant, weaker, and more easily confused with the inanimate Pulls of things like trees and buildings, and the living Pulls of horses and dogs. Aidan did not try sorting out and separating those Pulls, but reached out farther still, into the woods surrounding. Soon he felt his connection to all things beyond and pushed his senses farther. There was something out there, something he had ignored before, to the north of the inn, a dull pulsing….
“Sir?”
Cursing, Aidan lost focus and his senses drew back from the pulsing enigma and latched on to Slaíne’s Pull entirely. He was met with a blinding headache, and something heavy hitting him solidly in the side. “What the devil?”
“Sir,” said Slaíne from right next to him. “Next time, shout a warning before you Call me.”
Temples throbbing, Aidan opened his eyes a crack and saw that he had in fact Called her, and was sitting with her glued to his side. Again he cursed. “Just a moment.” Her Pull seemed to have strengthened, and feeling around it was impossible. The world was Slaíne, and Slaíne was the world. Footsteps echoed outside their door, and Aidan forced himself to search for the Pull they belonged to, and only then was he able to Release Slaíne, who seemed more than eager to get away from him.
Her cursing and spitting followed her to the other side of the room. “What was that all about?”
Aidan groaned and let himself fall backward onto the mattress. “I should have warned you, I’m sorry. I didn’t know it would be that difficult.” He then explained what he had been trying to do: find the tomb of Cedric the Elder with his abilities. That raised more questions.
“How exactly did you know to look for a magical Pull to lead you there?” She visibly stiffened. “Tell me you ain’t talking to Meraude in no visions again.”
He was quick to shake his head, and the whole room seemed to spin. “No, Meraude has not visited my dreams since the nymph stabbed me in the shoulder. But….”
“But what?” she pressed.
Aidan made a face. “I have been talking to someone in the Beyond.”
That made Slaíne stare at him like he had announced he was there and then going to dance around naked. She blinked furiously and shook her head. “The Beyond? You mean the land of the magical dead?”
He wondered at her. “You’ve heard of it, then?”
She sniffed. “’Course I have. Was raised by magic folk, weren’t I? How is you able to talk to them?” Aidan didn’t get a chance to answer before Slaíne gasped and stared at him, visibly awed. “That was no regular blade, was it?” She took to pacing. “So, if you was stabbed with a blade that makes you able to communicate with the magical dead….”
Trying to remember what Salem had told him, Aidan frowned. “The man I’ve been speaking to in the Beyond—”
“The man that’s possessed you?”
He cringed; that was not a word to throw around lightly. “Yes, or whatever it is he has been doing. He says that he wants me to find the Questing Goblet, but that most of the other magical dead are against it. At least, that’s the impression he gave me.” Aidan rubbed his temples, which throbbed out of time with his pulse and in time with the rising and falling of Slaíne’s chest.
“So, did you find it?”
Aidan shook his head, but then stopped. Had he found it? There had been that strange pulsing sensation north of there, but was that really what they were after? “I think I might have a general sense of where it lies. But before you get excited, I don’t think that it’s close by. It could be in the center of the country or perhaps farther north.” With care he sat up in increments, making certain to close his eyes and breathe slowly. After a time, he opened his eyes a fraction, and the room at least had ceased spinning. “What time is it?”
“It’s later afternoon, nearing suppertime.” She brought him a glass of small beer from the side table. “Looks like you need a drink after all.”
He accepted it without comment and took a tentative sip, pulling a face as it did not quite agree with his stomach. “Let’s hope a private dining room is still available for our meeting with your friend.”
Once he was certain he was not going to collapse and make a fool of himself on the stairs, Aidan Dismissed the papers, and he and Slaíne went down and talked to the owner of the Spinning Cup Inn. It took some haggling and a few extra coins, but they managed to secure a room for the evening. Aidan passed a missive on to the maid he had talked to earlier. “For the man at the end of our hall.”
She gave him an odd look, but took the note. “Are you sure you want to be on speaking terms with Titus? I told you, that man is trouble, if’n you ever seen it.”
Aidan ignored the confused look Slaíne gave him; she did not know that he had already talked to the maid about the strange man earlier. “Thank you for the warning, but I’m quite certain.”
The maid looked at the back of the folded and sealed paper. “Who should I say this is from?”
“Tell him that an old acquaintance wishes to mend things with him.”
“I might be needin’ a name to go with that.”
Wonderful, now I’ve aroused her suspicions. “Mr. and Mrs. Tripe, at his service.” He ignored Slaíne’s elbow, which had slammed into his ribs.
Though she had an odd look on her face, the woman nodded and took the note back above stairs. Once she was out of earshot, Slaíne shoved him.
“Mr. and Mrs.? Really?”
Aidan fought his temper. “Would you rather they think we’re living in sin? Besides, you told them we were newlyweds.”
Her lips trembled a moment, before she burst out laughing, a sincere, spritely sound which Aida
n hated to admit to sorely missing. “Right, I told ’er that.” She snorted. “And pigs just might yet fly.”
Was he truly that offensive to her? He gave her a look. “Right. Pigs, indeed.”
The girl let out a great huff of air. “Don’t you go getting all offended at me, sir. You know as well as I that it’s all rubbish.” And with that, she preceded him into the small dining room they had reserved.
Ignoring his hurt feelings – or at least trying to keep them to himself – Aidan followed her inside. He wanted to familiarize himself with the room and the Pulls contained within, as well as the exits. There were two windows, side by side, that stretched from near the floor and almost to the ceiling. Feeling no iron in the frames, he knew that they could crash through them or he could Dismiss the glass, should they need to make a quick exit that way. Next Aidan judged the distance between the tables and the door, took stock of what inanimate Pulls lay outside, and thought about which objects he might use as a weapon. There was a fireplace in the corner of the room, with an iron grate and poker resting before the smoldering embers. The iron he would have to beware of without drawing attention to the fact that he was leery of the metal.
Once satisfied that he had a handle on the layout of the room, Aidan led Slaíne outside, where he sat in one of the five unoccupied rocking chairs. He did not want to be too hopeful that things would go his way; they never did, especially when he thought they were going to. It was always best to prepare for the very worst.
Slaíne took the chair next to him and started rocking. “Think of it. This time tomorrow, I might know how to get rid of the curse.”
He swallowed. “Don’t raise your hopes too high. They might just come crashing down around your ears.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Aye, always the optimist.”
That made him look at her. “And you are?” Before she could retaliate with another remark, he said, “What will you do, once you’re free?”
“Kill Meraude, if she ain’t already dead – by your hand or another.” She leaned back in her chair and squinted against the setting sun. “Other than that, I guess I’ve not thought on it much. Ain’t got no family to return to…well, not that I know of. That fellow seems to think I have an uncle. Maybe I’ll find him and see where I stand.” She looked over at Aidan. “What will you do once you’ve had your revenge?”
Should they find the remaining Goblets Immortal and defeat Meraude with them, his revenge would be complete…if he survived. A glum thought for an otherwise bright evening. Instead of voicing his concerns, Aidan edged his way around the question. “There will be many opportunities for magical folk, I’m sure. We’ve lived in the shadows long enough, and I assume we might have Meraude to thank for some of that.”
They sat in companionable silence for the next half hour, and then went inside to see if the room they had reserved was ready for their meeting with the man named Titus. Aidan doubted Titus would know anything about Slaíne’s curse, but he would never hear the end of it if they moved on without confronting the man.
Inside, the smells of dinner wafted over from the kitchen. Aidan had ordered a good-sized meal: roasted leg of lamb, poached pears and sugared strawberries fresh from a local hothouse, asparagus in a cream sauce, brown bread with butter and raspberry jam, and a spice cake for afters. It had cost him a good amount, but he hoped it might loosen the curmudgeonly man’s tongue.
Aidan was going to wait inside, but a young woman breezed past, yelling incomprehensibly.
“Wonder what she’s going on about?” said Slaíne.
Aidan watched with trepidation as a young man followed her, shouting as well.
“Is there a doctor? A man’s collapsed,” the young man shouted. “Says he’s been stabbed.”
Aidan moved away from the door slowly. If someone had been stabbed, the lawmen would be called, and if they recognized Aidan…. He shuddered to think. “It might be time to take our leave,” he said below his breath, hoping Slaíne could hear him. Knowing their supplies wouldn’t last them long, Aidan concentrated on Pulls in the kitchen. There was one human Pull moving nearer the front of the inn, perhaps responding to the cries that had been taken up. It was now or never. Aidan Dismissed everything of a smaller size that he could sense in the kitchen, hoping that he was mostly taking food. He hated to steal like this, but there was no time to stop and buy all of the supplies that he needed.
People were pushing their way out of the building now, some shouting, some sobbing, most looking solemn. “What’s going on?” a little girl asked Slaíne.
“Dunno,” she replied as she and Aidan moved out of the way.
Aidan seized her hand and they allowed themselves to be absorbed into the masses, moving toward the outer perimeter of the crowd. There was too much noise to speak quietly, and Aidan did not want to be overheard. They needed to put this town behind them as quickly as possible, though it would make them look suspicious, if anyone had in fact been stabbed. Hopefully the poor soul was all right, whoever it might be, and Aidan possessed a feeling that he knew who.
They continued to be jostled to and fro until they reached the edge of the crowd. Here and there people were asking questions of each other and had obviously heard some of what had transpired at the Spinning Cup.
“Sir,” Slaíne said as they rounded a corner of a building and turned their backs to the masses. “Where are we goin’?”
“If someone was hurt by another’s hand, we will be brought under suspicion,” he said, trying to keep a casual pace. “I don’t fancy anyone figuring out who I am.”
To his surprise, she pulled against him, attempting to wrench her hand out of his. When he looked, her expression was furious. “I need my answers.”
Aidan sighed. “Slaíne, please don’t make a scene.”
That had been the wrong thing to say. For the second time since he had met her, she slapped him hard across the face. “Is all you ever worry about yourself? You selfish….”
“Finish it,” he said, unblinking. “You think me a coward.”
She rolled her eyes. “’Course not. I need the curse reversed, Mr. Aidan. If’n I ever want to be free, that man is what’s got the answers.”
He gave her a tug and started walking again, meeting a little less resistance. “You don’t know that for sure, Slaíne. You’re clutching at straws.”
“At least I’ve got straws to clutch. Better than air.” She looked at him with such pleading in her eyes that Aidan was tempted to give in and return to the inn, which had no doubt been thrown into complete confusion, what with the alleged stabbing and the food disappearing from the kitchen. No, they could not return.
“Slaíne, I know what this means to you….” He let his words trail off, for he knew they would not be sufficient to mollify her. Instead, he started anew. “Here’s what we can do. We’ll return to the crowd, see if we can find this Titus fellow out among everyone. We can talk to him there, outside, and then we can make our departure, hopefully before any lawmen make an appearance.”
Before he could finish getting all of the words out, Slaíne threw her arms around his neck and bussed him on the cheek, her face glowing. “I knew you was no coward.”
He froze, strange thoughts whirling through his mind. There was no time to call the words back: Slaíne grabbed his hand and dragged him in the direction of the inn. They had hardly made it within a street of the Spinning Cup when they ran into a crowd of people, which had tripled in size within minutes. Folks were talking excitedly, but over all there hung an air of dread.
“He’ll be all right,” said a man on Aidan’s right. “I reckon he was imagining things.”
His friend seemed to think differently. “Imagining? Someone stabbed him. That’s nothing you imagine. ’Sides, there was blood everywhere. Don’t think he made that up.”
“More like stabbed himself,” said another.
&nbs
p; Some grunted in agreement.
“Was there blood, though? No one’s actually said.”
“Well,” said a woman, “it would not surprise me one bit if he imagined the whole thing. Always fond of the drink, that one. Floating knives, my hide.”
Aidan and Slaíne exchanged puzzled looks.
“What’s ’appening?” Slaíne asked the woman, who pursed her lips.
“Ain’t really my place to say,” she said, before eagerly filling them in on what had transpired. “Apparently, he was in his room all by his lonesome when a knife appeared out of thin air and stabbed him in the shoulder. I think he was drinking, but he claims to not have had a drop since this morning.”
“Ah,” said Slaíne. “Who was this again?”
A few of the men and the woman exchanged dark looks. “Titus the Mad, but of course.” She leaned in and said, “Wants attention, that one.”
“I don’t like it,” said another woman. “Someone said they heard two voices in the room before the stabbing.”
Aidan had heard enough. They needed to move on, if there was any chance the wound was not an accident, and it sounded like it wasn’t. A knife appearing out of nowhere? He needed to get Slaíne’s attention. “Well, we had better find a safer place to stay.”
It seemed that Slaíne had not heard him, as she asked the second woman a question. “What were they talkin’ about? Mr. Titus and the other voice?”
“That’s where it gets interesting,” said the second woman. “There was something about not meddling in a curse. Titus screamed and said he knew nothing about a curse and— Why, miss, are you all right? You look like you’re going to be sick.”
Indeed, Slaíne had grown pale and was shaking. Before Aidan could stop her, she pushed her way through the crowd, and he had no choice but to follow her. A dog brushed past them, nearly knocking Aidan over. Aidan gave the beast a contemptuous look before turning his attention to the crowd.
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