James held up an iron key. “There was only one available on the top floor.”
“That will do,” she said. “Help me get him upstairs before it’s too late.”
Too late for what? Her sudden change of manner sent me scurrying across the room.
Julian was barely lucid when we arrived on the third floor. With Justine and James on either side, he dragged with every step until they were pulling him along by their effort alone. I carried a candle to light the way while two lads ran ahead with the saddlebags. I found them in a heap outside the second door.
Once in the room, Justine set straight to work. “Do you have a sheath and herbs?” she asked me.
“Yes.” I dug through one of the bags, careful of Brigid’s knife while I pushed shifts and stockings aside in my search. “Here they are.”
“Mr. Roth,” Justine said, the urgency clear in her voice. “Please undress Lord Stroud to his breeches and shirt.”
James knelt next to Julian, who was slumped on the floor against a wall, and started tugging at one of his riding boots. I glanced around, looking for a place to change. There was no screen to be found, but the bed had a curtain, which I drew to the full length for privacy.
Wrestling out of my clothing, I pulled on the simple white sheath Brigid preferred her children wear when visiting her gardens. As there was no established altar at the inn, I had no idea where Justine planned for us to kneel and burn the obligatory mixture of cowslip, angelica and goat’s rue that would help carry our souls to the Otherworld.
Once dressed, I returned to the center of the room, my hair free of its pins and my travel cloak wrapped around me like a robe. Justine had built a small fire in the hearth during the time, giving enough light to close the drapes without plunging us into total darkness. She withdrew a small parcel from her own cloak and set it on a chest at the foot of the bed.
“Selah, please get the basin from under the water pitcher.”
I placed it next to the parcel and a freshly lit candle. Retrieving a pillow from the bed, I dropped it beside the chest before kneeling to unwrap the herbs.
Julian was now lying on the floor, dressed only in a white linen shirt and black knee breeches. Justine knelt beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Almost there, Lord Stroud,” she said soothingly. His eyelids fluttered open for half a heartbeat before gravity reclaimed them.
James stood a few feet away, hands clasped behind his back. Shadows veiled his face and most likely a bemused expression from what was playing out before him.
“Mr. Roth,” Justine said, without taking her eyes from Julian, “will you please help me bring Lord Stroud to the chest? He needs to kneel across from Miss Kilbrid.”
Together they moved him. At the chest, Justine knelt again at his side, holding him up even as his head slumped near the bowl.
James stared down at us and shifted his stance, drawing attention to the awkwardness of the situation. Clearly the man needed a job other than spectator.
“Perhaps you would like to inquire about a ship for our crossing, Mr. Roth.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. “Right you are, Miss Kilbrid. I’ll return shortly.” The candle flickered in his haste to leave the room.
“Good thinking,” Justine said the moment the door closed. “That should keep him occupied for several hours at least.” She pulled the oilcloth from the parcel, revealing a small nondescript stone that I recognized at once.
“You got that from the mantel in Cate’s bedroom,” I said, picturing it alongside the other oddities.
Justine placed the stone inside the porcelain bowl. “It’s one of her most prized possessions. Brigid made it for her more than a thousand years ago, when she wearied of opening altars every new place Cate traveled.”
I studied the stone, seeing it anew. It had been carved into a rough column about five fingers high, with straight sides and flat circular ends. Char marks covered the top end. “Is it the pathway?”
“More like the door that opens the pathway.”
Julian groaned and started to sink toward the ground.
Justine caught him, readjusting her grip with both arms to keep him in place. She glanced at the herbs. “Break some off and place them on top of the stone.”
I did as she bid, then used a candle to light them. Red embers came to life, danced across the dried leaves and twigs. The fragrant smoke filled my nose, urging me toward the Otherworld.
My aunt maneuvered Julian’s arms to the top of the chest. “Take his hands. He’s so weak, he may need your help to cross over.”
“Aren’t you coming with us?” I looked at her closely, just now realizing that she hadn’t changed from her gown. This alone would not have barred her from the Otherworld. But shoes and stockings were forbidden in Brigid’s garden.