He knew what he had seen. He only wished to the Spheres Above that he had not! Perhaps he could forget. Perhaps he would not be forced to remember. . . .
At last órfhlaith passed through Fionnghuala Lynn to where Iubdan, Bebo, Gleamdren, Glomar, and all the court of Rudiobus, having heard the awful voices of the Black Dogs, had gathered to discover the source of all the excitement. Queen Bebo’s delicate veil covered her hair and glinted in the torchlight, and she lightly held Iubdan’s arm.
“What have you there, poet?” demanded the king as soon as Eanrin and the mare appeared.
“A mortal,” said Eanrin, his voice subdued. He looked at the woman held before him and thought, What a fool I was to have thought otherwise. She is so obviously what she is. How could I have suspected a glamour?
When Eanrin seemed unwilling to tell his tale, órfhlaith explained what she knew. As she spoke of the Black Dogs, a hush settled on the crowd, broken a moment later by a rush of excited babble, like birds chattering their morning chorus. Black Dogs! How tremendous! The stuff of one of Eanrin’s exotic tales! Meanwhile, Gleamdren stepped forward and put her hands up to help the woman off the mare’s back.
“Careful, darling,” said Eanrin hastily. “She might have died while crossing, and you shouldn’t be touching death.”
The stranger moaned before the words had quite left the poet’s mouth. Gleamdren gave Eanrin a withering glance and assisted the stranger to the ground, supporting her with gentle hands. The people of Rudiobus looked upon her and gasped.
“What a pretty creature!” said Queen Bebo, pressing a hand to her heart.
“And mortal?” exclaimed the king. “A princess of the Near World, perhaps. And pursued by the Black Dogs! Such a dreadful fate.”
“Especially for one so fair,” agreed his queen. All those gathered murmured their agreement. “Can she speak, Gleamdren? Can she tell us her story?”
Eanrin hopped off órfhlaith but hung back. Ordinarily, he would have stepped forward and demanded his fair share of the attention. After all, the mortal was his find. But his limbs felt weak, and his stomach roiled with the too-near terror he had just experienced. It was all he could do to stay on his feet. When Bebo turned to him and repeated her question, he murmured only, “Not much. She said help me, or some such nonsense. That is all.”
Gleamdren gave him a quick glance. She had never known Eanrin so restrained. Her lips thinned. Then she turned and whispered tenderly to the stranger, “There, there. Can you talk, then?”
The stranger’s eyes, which had been half closed, suddenly opened wide. Colorless yet beautiful, they rolled as she struggled to take in all the assembled people, the laughing faces wearing unnatural expressions of concern. “Wh-where am I?” she cried in a voice rough with mortality. Then she moaned and buried her face in Gleamdren’s shoulder as though it was all too much to bear. “The Dogs . . .”
“Hymlumé’s light!” exclaimed Iubdan, his own dark eyes snapping with something between sympathy and anger. “How could those brutes chase this little mite? We must learn what goads them!”
“No,” said Bebo softly. “Not tonight, my Dark Man. Can you not see how close she is to fainting? The poor thing is spent. Let us allow her a sound night’s rest before we ply her with questions.”
“Aye, that is wise,” agreed her husband. “Lady Gleamdren, can you find accommodations for our guest?”
Gleamdren nodded. “I shall put her in my own bed. She’ll rest easy enough there and hear nothing of those monsters while she dreams.”
Eanrin gasped. All in a rush, his own fears vanished, and he stared at his lady, at the stranger, and back again. “Gleamdren, my sweet,” he said, stepping forward and putting a protective hand on her shoulder. “We don’t know anything about this creature. We don’t know what she might have done to provoke someone to set the Black Dogs on her. They don’t chase without reason, you know.”
But though the words spilled quickly from his tongue, no one paid him heed. Gleamdren shrugged off his hand and, with nothing more than a withering look, ignored him. She walked away with the king on one side and the queen on the other as she assisted the woman back through the caverns of Rudiobus. Glomar trailed behind, and all the rest of the court, sparing not so much as a glance for the crimson poet.
He found himself at last standing alone beside Fionnghuala Lynn with the king’s mare. He turned to órfhlaith. “I tell you what, my friend, something about this puts my hair on end.”
She whuffled and shook her ears. “Do not mistrust Master Iubdan or his lady. Would they allow evil into Rudiobus?”
Eanrin did not hear. He watched the torchlight vanishing up the caverns, his heart sinking. The last thing in the world he wanted was to become tangled in some mortal’s affairs. But he had brought the creature into Rudiobus of his own free will. Whatever happened next, he could no longer extricate himself.
With a curse, he left órfhlaith and the waterfall, sprinting after the crowd.