The Well of Shades (77 page)

T
HEY FOUND THE
door before any message reached them. Brother Suibne held the flaring torch;
by its shifting light Faolan examined the chain that held the portal shut. It could not be readily unfastened; the holes through which the chain passed were too narrow to admit his hand. It seemed unlikely Eile would enter such a place. It was not possible a small child could have opened this door. Yet he felt suddenly cold, as if chill fingers had gripped his heart. “Hold the torch closer,” he
said. “There’s something on this chain, it’s sticky. Can you see?”

“Oil?” suggested Suibne.

But Faolan already knew what it was. He wrenched at the heavy door with some violence, trying to heave it bodily open.

“Take the torch,” said Suibne. “I may be able to get a hand through.”

“She’s in there,” Faolan muttered. “I know it. I feel it. Eile!” There was no sound save for a muted rattle as
Suibne sought to maneuver his hand through the hole and unfasten the chain blind.

“Almost got it… Stay calm, Faolan. God will aid us. Ah, that’s it… Now, I need to draw it through… God help us, is this blood?”

The chain was off. Faolan thrust the torch back in Suibne’s hand and pushed open the door. And there she was, a limp form on the ground, gown rent and filthy, face corpse-pale, eyes shut,
limbs sprawled. He fell to his knees beside her, forcing himself not to take her up in his arms but to put his ear to her lips, his fingers gently to her neck. In his mind was a desperate plea, to whom he did not know:
Let her be alive. Let me not lose her
.

“God have mercy,” murmured Brother Suibne, then stuck his head back out the door to shout, “Down here!” in the Priteni tongue. He moved back
in, lifting the torch to illuminate the raised stones encircling the shadowy pit; to reveal the narrow gap at the foot of the outer wall.

For an interminable few moments, Faolan’s own heart forgot to beat. Then he felt the weak whisper of her breathing, the slow pulsing of her blood. He stripped off his tunic and laid it over her, touching his lips to her brow as his eyes filled with tears. “She’s
alive,” he said, and they were the sweetest words in the world.

“Faolan.” Something in Suibne’s voice alerted him. “There’s a well.”

He made himself get up; forced himself to take a step across and look in. The torch showed the two men evidence of a cruel climb. Eile had left her blood on the crumbling wall of the pit, her clawing final effort marking the moss-crusted rim with desperate red
trails. It was clear that, once she was safely up and over the edge, she had collapsed into unconsciousness before she could call for help. Suibne held the torch out to illuminate the bottom of the pit. Heart in his mouth, Faolan looked down. The well was empty.

“Merciful God,” said Suibne quietly. “I had expected the child to be there, and this a heroic attempt at rescue. What has happened here?”

“Come and look at this.” Faolan, crouched once more by Eile’s side, was examining her hands. The torchlight played on the broken nails, the abraded palms, the fingers whose flesh was raw and torn. Her soft indoor boots were ripped and holed, her feet a mass of cuts and blisters. Her knees were deeply grazed, dirt worked hard into the wounds.

“She has an injury to her temple,” Suibne said. “Look,
there. Best touch her cautiously, there may be hurts we cannot see. It is a long way to fall. A perilous and terrifying climb. Here, take my cape, she’s freezing.”

“Garth!” Faolan shouted from where he knelt. “Get
down here now!” And, disregarding the cleric’s good advice, he gathered Eile into his arms.

“Faolan?” Suibne’s voice was soft. “Is it possible, I wonder, that a small child might slip
out through a chink such as that appears to be over there? If that were to occur, a woman would not be able to get through to bring him back before he wandered. She’d need to raise the alarm. Folk would need to go out by the gates, then around the wall to find him. The trees grow thickly on those slopes.”

“Mm,” said Faolan, holding Eile close, wondering if he could be sure her heart was beating.

“Might she slip and fall in her haste to run for assistance?”

“Not Eile. Besides…” He reached a gentle hand to touch the crusted blood on her head wound. “Suibne?”

“Yes?”

“Take that chain, coil it up, put it in your pocket or conceal it elsewhere. I don’t want anyone tampering with evidence. If that’s her blood on it, I need the truth out in the open. I need justice.”

“One might say, of course,
that we are the ones who are tampering. In fact I already have the item in question secure. I admire the young lady immensely, Faolan, whether she is your wife or something else entirely. I saw her courage and sweetness on our voyage to Dalriada. I saw her devotion to her child and her trust in you. I will pray for her recovery.”

Torches; voices; running footsteps. Garth was there, and behind
him the bulky form of Garvan, with Uric close by. More men followed: Wid making remarkable speed, Dovran gray-faced with dread.

“She’s here. She’s alive. No sign of Derelei. Garth, I need to get her inside quickly. She’s been hurt and she’s icy cold.”

Exclamations of concern, of shock; a warm cloak—Wid’s; Garvan offering to carry Eile. It was wrenchingly hard to give her up; Faolan did so only
because he knew
the brawny stone carver would get her to shelter more quickly than he could. He had already demanded more of his knee than it was fit for, and he feared it might give way on him at any moment.

“Garth,” he said quietly, “seal up this chamber for tonight, and don’t let anyone tramp about in here. It could be important.”

“Of course. We should take Eile to the women’s quarters, yes?
And call for Fola.”

“I’m not letting her out of my sight,” Faolan said. “Take her to her own chamber. I will watch over her, at least until morning. If that’s considered improper, too bad. We do need Fola; will you tell Bridei what’s happened and ask him if she can come?” They began to walk up the pathway, Garvan leading with Eile in his arms, Dovran beside him with a torch.

“Garth?” Faolan
murmured.

“What, friend?”

“Bring Saraid. Even if she’s asleep.”

“You are both healer and nursemaid now?”

“Please.”

“Very well. I think you need a healer yourself. I’ve never seen you shed tears in public before.”

“This merits more than tears,” Faolan said. “Derelei is still lost. We don’t know what damage has been done to Eile. I am beginning to see answers. But I won’t do anything until
Eile’s hurts are salved and she is safe and warm again. And you must sleep. I promised you rest. Instead, this. It is no life for a man with a wife and children.”

H
E WANTED TO
stay by Eile every moment, to do everything that was needed, to watch over her constantly, to ensure he would be by her side when she regained consciousness. He wished to be there to allay her
fears and soothe her hurts. He wanted to tell her what he had not dared to put into words before.

Fola, however, had other ideas, and before her formidable will and indubitable competence Faolan retreated to the smaller chamber, the one with the green blanket, biting his nails. In the chamber which had once been Ana’s, a fire was made up on the hearth and candles lit; he watched through the half-closed
connecting door. More blankets were fetched. Under the wise woman’s calm instructions, men brought warm water for bathing and a supply of plain food and drink. Elda arrived bearing a basket of salves and lotions and a clean nightrobe. Then the two women shut the connecting door and Faolan was left to pace alone.

As time passed he thought he might go mad. They were taking so long; what was wrong?
He imagined her slipping away from him between one breath and the next. He thought of her waking, confused and terrified. He thought of her not waking at all. He imagined the chain and the hand that had wielded it, a wicked, arbitrary hand. He was on the point of bursting through into the other chamber to say he knew not what, when there was a tap at the outer door, then Garth’s voice.

“We’re
here.”

Saraid was not quite asleep. She was in her little nightrobe with a blanket around her and Sorry in her arms. “Mama?” she said in a tiny, doubtful voice.

“I told her Mama was back, but sleeping,” Garth said.

Faolan nodded, taking the child in his arms. “Thank you. You’ve spoken to Bridei?”

“I’ve told him what we know. I understand Fola has seen something, too; something suggesting Derelei
is indeed outside the walls and may still be alive. You know what that means, Faolan.”

“Another day’s searching tomorrow.”

“Will you come?”

Faolan looked down at the solemn face of Saraid. He listened to the soft, capable voices of the women from the adjoining chamber. He was Bridei’s chief bodyguard; he was responsible for the king’s family. “I’ll face
that choice in the morning,” he said.
“I take it you’ve decided not to continue the search inside these walls tonight?”

“The king says no. He believes Fola’s vision to be accurate.”

“You’d best go to your bed, then. Thank you for everything. You’re a true friend.”

Garth nodded. “You’d do the same for me,” he said.

When Garth was gone, Faolan and Saraid sat side by side on the bed and he sang her the Sorry song. In the newest verse,
Sorry was put on guard in the forest, watchful and silent, and when Faolan passed she alerted him and the brave dog Ban to peril. Thus Saraid was rescued and brought home. He spun it out, wanting the child to see her mother before she went to sleep, but they reached the end and still the door remained closed.

“Mama?” Saraid asked. “House on the hill?”

“Mama’s too tired to tell a story tonight.
I will tell it. We’ll wait till Mama’s ready. We’ll do it all together.”

“Faolan?” The door opened a crack, and Fola was there. “Oh.” She glanced at Saraid. “Can I speak in front of the child?”

He was chill again. “It’s ill news?”

“Not so ill, though Eile has not yet regained full consciousness.”

“Then tell me now. May we see her?”

“Sit down, Faolan. You can go in shortly. I can’t remain
with her overnight, and nor can Elda. As you’ve refused other help, I must explain to you what is required. I know you won’t listen once you’re in the other chamber. Go on, sit. That’s better.” She came in to seat herself on the storage chest. The sleeves of her gray robe were rolled to the elbow. “We’ve warmed Eile up and tended to her cuts and bruises. She seemed to respond to the bathing and the
heat of the fire; she managed to swallow a few drops of water. It’s important that you keep offering her something to drink each time she comes to herself sufficiently to swallow. But not too much at once.
There’s plain bread and a little broth there; you can warm the pot over the fire. It doesn’t matter if she takes that or not. Tomorrow will be soon enough for eating. But she must drink.”

“Will she—”

“Let me finish. We’ve examined her closely to see what harm has been sustained. Apart from the blow to her head, it seems there’s been some damage to the left shoulder; she didn’t like us touching it. I don’t think anything’s broken, or she couldn’t have climbed so far. She’ll lose a few fingernails.” Fola glanced at the round-eyed Saraid. “There is no sign of abuse. I can’t tell you
how she sustained the wound to her temple. Perhaps in the fall. On the other hand, it could be that blow caused her to fall. There are certain markings…”

“Yes,” said Faolan. “What damage has been done by that, apart from the flesh wound?”

“I can’t tell you. There may be no long-term damage. It’s astonishing that she sustained no broken bones, Faolan.” The wise woman regarded him gravely.

“You
saw the mark on her head. I believe she was rendered unconscious before she went into the well. That can reduce the damage caused by a fall. I don’t want to make the particular details of the head injury public until I’ve asked a few more questions.”

“If you’re saying what I think you’re saying,” Fola commented, eyes shrewd, “you’d best not take too long over your investigations. Tonight, you’ll
need all your energies for Eile. She’ll be confused and distressed when she wakes fully. Keep her calm. Elda’s left you a salve for her hands and feet. Apply it often. And call one of us if there’s the slightest need, Faolan. I will come back in the morning.”

“We’d like to see her now.”

Fola smiled. “You’ve been patient. Don’t expect much sleep tonight.”

“Garth said you saw something. About
Derelei. Can you tell me?”

“I do not generally share my visions with the world,” the wise woman said, getting up. “But I see a difficult choice for you at dawn; love in conflict with duty. I saw Derelei, yes.”

“Where? Was he safe?”

“He was walking through deep, dark woods, all alone. He made his way with utter confidence. It seems to me his mother’s theory was correct. Derelei has not been
abducted. He has not run away or wandered off and become lost. At two years old, he’s gone on a mission.”

“Derry’s gone,” said Saraid, nodding sagely.

“Where did he go, Squirrel?” Faolan’s heart was in his throat, but he kept his tone light.