“First door on your right—just follow the smell of the herbs she always brings along,” he said with a Conall-like lip curl.
Leif walked past us and wrenched open one of the heavy doors. “Let’s see if she will answer.”
“Do you bring old women with you on all your raids?” I asked as I hurried through the doorway—I’d never been so eager to leave a place. With Ulric’s attack and the strange men appearing, the king’s great hall seemed as forbidding as a crypt.
“On quests as important as this one I do.”
We both scanned the dark entryway as the doors slammed shut behind us. The flames of the wall torches flickered and danced, casting ominous shadows, but if there was anyone hiding in the dark, they were utterly silent.
I moved toward the stairs first, and Leif followed, our footsteps muffled by the rugs upon the stone floor.
Trepidation filled me; my every step felt heavy. If those men were truly j?tnar—or in league with them—the whole city could be in danger. The fact that they were here, in King Sigtrygg’s castle, seemed to suggest he wasn’t the ally Leif thought him to be.
If our enemy had already made it to Dubhlinn, where else in éirinn might they be? Were my sisters even still safe at home?
I feared the answers.
The smell of sage was so strong outside the seer’s door that I wondered how I hadn’t noticed it earlier.
Leif knocked once, but the door was ajar just enough that Leif’s fist opened it farther. The smoke from the sage streamed out of the room and wrapped around us, almost choking in its intensity.
“Sigrid?” he called with a cough and a wave of his hand at the smoke.
“Come,” a gravelly voice answered.
Leif crossed the threshold, and I followed him into the darkness. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, for the room was lit by only a single candle, and the seer sat far away from its light. I could make out a woman bent forward with age, clutching a gnarled wooden stick. Gray robes hung from her body, and they rustled as though made from stiff muslin when she gestured for us to sit.
There was only one other armchair and a small bed, so I took the chair while Leif stood beside me. The seer lit another candle at the rickety table beside her. In the flickering light, she appeared even more ancient, her face as weathered as a rock worn by a thousand years of wind and water. Her hair was as gray as her robes, wild and half braided.
“What is it you wish to know?” she asked.
“There are strange men here,” Leif said, his voice low. “Are they in league with the j?tnar?”
The seer watched the flame of the candle for several long moments. “The j?tnar have nearly as much magic as the gods. They can assume many forms.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Leif said, frustration evident in the set of his shoulders.
“Then you didn’t listen.”
“What do you see of the kingdom of Mide?” I asked, my hands gripping the skirt of my gown. “Is my family safe?”
She turned to me, her eyes almost milky with age. “This kingdom you speak of is shrouded by a dark mist that even my eyes cannot penetrate.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, a sick anxiety growing with me. “Tell me, are my sisters safe?”
“I tell you again, child. There is something that prevents me from seeing the fate of your kingdom.”
The Morrigan? I thought. My anxiety for my family grew until I feared I’d be sick. The strong smell of the sage and the lingering pounding of my head injury didn’t help. Suddenly, Leif’s warm hand touched my shoulder, and I glanced up to find him watching me with sympathy.
“You have other concerns,” the seer continued. “A new power that frightens you.”
Leaving my own body. I still failed to see how it was a power, but it certainly frightened me. “I need to learn to control it. I need to know what it is.”
“You are too weak now, and you lack the discipline and true desire to master it.”
I leaned closer. “I was told you could help me.” Though that wasn’t strictly true. The Morrigan had never promised the seer could help . . . only told me I should find her.
The seer drew farther into her robes. “You are surrounded by darkness. Your life hangs by a single thread, and I cannot see what the outcome will be.”
I glanced up at Leif again, and he must have seen the desperation in my eyes, for he said to the seer, “What does that mean? She may die, so you refuse to help her?”
Unperturbed by his angry tone, the seer shook her head. “She must undergo the test before the power can be mastered.” She drew a raspy breath as though talking had become taxing on her withered body. “You must remember that your power connects you to the spirit realm. It could save your life”—she looked at Leif—“and his.”
“Why is it the nature of seers to speak in riddles?” Leif demanded.
“I can only see what the gods choose to show me. We are all helpless to their whims.”
“You can do no more, then?” Leif asked. “Isn’t there anything you can do to divine the fate of Ciara’s family?”
“This land is not ours. There are ancient beings here, creatures like our gods in the north, and they also have control over what I can see.” She watched me for a moment until unease joined the sick feeling in my stomach. “They don’t want me to see the fate of your family.”
With those forbidding words, she blew out the candle, plunging her corner into darkness again.
Leif made a noise of disgust and made to leave. I came to my feet. “Thank you for speaking with us,” I murmured.
“Your power,” the seer said quietly, and I paused, “is a door as real as the one in this room. Do not be afraid to go through it.”
More riddles. But I could see she was trying to help me, so I nodded once. “I will remember.”
I followed Leif into the dim hallway and closed the seer’s door behind me.
I wanted to run to the stables, leap astride Sleipnir, and gallop back to Mide. But I couldn’t. Of course I couldn’t—I was exiled for attacking my own father, and the j?tnar might already be here in this castle. But my sisters . . .
Fear gripped me like a hawk’s talons tear into a mouse.
“Ciara,” Leif said, concern etched into his face, and it nearly broke me. “Your family . . . just because Sigrid couldn’t see them doesn’t mean anything happened to them.”
I stepped closer to him—I couldn’t help it. I wanted someone to tell me they were okay, that nothing had happened to them, that this feeling I had meant nothing. “We lost eleven days in the Faerie Tunnel, Leif. There are men here who could be in league with the j?tnar, and they could have easily been to Mide and back.”
“They could have,” Leif agreed, “and I understand your fear, but you can’t let it cripple you. Much as I hate to sit idle, I think it may be best to watch and wait—at least until morning.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Unless you know more than you’re telling me.”
I thought about lying, but Leif seemed more restrained now than he had in the great hall. “I have seen men like them before in a vision. Their strange language is what gave them away as j?tnar, yet they are clearly not giants. For this reason, I held my tongue.” His body tensed like a bow, and I reached out to touch his arm. “You said we should watch and wait,” I reminded him gently. I could feel the need for violence thrumming just beneath his skin, and I understood it. Had they been responsible for one of my beloved sisters’ deaths . . . there was very little that would stop me from slaughtering them like sheep.
“If given the chance,” I continued, “I can get inside their heads, perhaps find out more.”
Leif let out his breath. “You’re right.” Some of the tension seemed to leave him, and he turned to go. “It’s late. I should find Arinbjorn.” Before he left, he gestured toward my head. “Your injury—is it better?”
I smiled. “Much.” I’d almost forgotten about it. The pain had reduced to a dull ache that I could easily ignore.
“Good. Will you stay in your room now that you’ve seen I had reason to warn you?”