Muse (Tales of Silver Downs Book 1) (30 page)

Owain seemed unperturbed. The woman he had claimed as his responsibility carried another man's child but his eyes were calm and considering. No doubt he was already making and discarding various plans. He wanted to save her. He
needed
to.

In my own form, I could have eased the sickness Rhiwallon experienced most mornings and could have helped her birth the child. And perhaps Mother could do even more, for she had much arcane knowledge. She might know a way to shield Rhiwallon from the fey. My chest tightened and my throat felt thick. I had often wished my abilities would disappear along with Mother's expectations for me, leaving me free to chase adventure and danger. I had wished them away too freely. Here was a woman — a friend, of sorts — who needed the aid I could have given her and I was as powerless as if I had no ability at all.

It seemed strange that the Sight had never shown me Rhiwallon. I had seen Diarmuid and Owain and myself. I had recognised Ida the first moment I saw her in person. The white hair, the cruel smile. But the visions had never shown me Rhiwallon. I could only wonder why.

The three of us stood in silence for some time. Owain seemed absorbed in his thoughts. Diarmuid's eyes were downcast, mouth wobbling a little, shoulders slumped. He smelled of defeat.

"So…" Owain said at length, after Rhiwallon had stormed off. "What now?"

Diarmuid didn't look at Owain as he shrugged. "Now I go home and admit I failed."

Silence stretched again. I looked between Owain and Diarmuid. I waited and, sure enough, Owain finally found his next words.

"Just like that?"

"Huh?" Still Diarmuid didn't look at him.

"You're giving up?"

Diarmuid hung his head. "I tried. I really did. I thought I could… I don't know,
do something
. Convince her, persuade her. But she's too strong."

"She'll keep killing people."

"You don't think I know that? What she's doing is my fault. I have to live with that. But I tried. I couldn't stop her. What more could I have done?"

Another long pause.
 

"Seems to me," Owain said. "Instead of asking what you could have done, maybe you should ask what to do next."

Had I hands instead of paws, I would have applauded. Instead I was struck by an urge to bark long and loud, but I restrained myself. Owain was a fine man and if Rhiwallon couldn't see it, then she didn't deserve him.

"You think I should try again?" Diarmuid asked.

"That or give up," Owain said. "And we've come too far to give up."

"But what else can I do? You felt her power. How can I destroy something like that? Talking to her is of no avail. She will never be persuaded to stop."

"Hit her over the head. Like Braden and Drust said. Tie her up. Might be able to talk sense with her then."

I had forgotten Drust. Had his brother, Davin, been somewhere in the house while we were there? Should we have tried to rescue him?
 

"We need to surprise her," Diarmuid said at length. "She won't expect me to return."

"Need to strike fast," Owain said.

"Surprise is as good a weapon as any."

I contributed a bark of agreement.

Diarmuid tentatively stroked my shoulder. He had been odd with me ever since he realised I was more than just a dog. Often he would stretch out a hand to touch me but then pull back at the last moment. I gently touched my nose to his hand. He might be a fool sometimes but he was still
my
fool.

"What do we do about Rhiwallon?" Diarmuid asked.

They looked at each other in silence. I read the same answer on each of their faces but neither wanted to be the one to say it.
 

"I don't know whether we can trust her," Diarmuid said, eventually.

Owain studied his hands. "Don't know. Hope so."

"Maybe she shouldn't come with us next time. Just in case. She has been lying to us the whole time."

"Protecting herself."

"But how do we know she's not still lying? That she wouldn't betray us if she thought it would save her? She helps Ida and Ida helps her hide?"

Owain shrugged. "Either she'll betray us or she won't. Not much you can do 'bout it either way."

What would Caedmon say if he was here? He was born to be a soldier, one who fought and delivered death. I had never thought less of him for it. It was simply not the path I had envisioned for myself. But perhaps to defeat Ida, I needed to become a soldier too.

"How would I do it?" I asked.
 

"Cut her throat," Owain said. "Messy but quick."

I tried to picture myself standing over a bound woman, knife in hand. Owain would hold her steady. There would be blood. Would she feel pain? Would she scream? Beg for mercy? My stomach contracted and I pushed the thoughts away.

"I'll find some rope," Owain said. "When we go back, you distract her. I'll get behind her and grab her. Then you tie her up."

"Then I… kill her?"

He looked me right in the eyes. "Has to be done, Diarmuid. I can do it, if you can't."

I swallowed, hard. "It has to be me. I have to be the one to stop her."

"I'll get the rope," he said and left.

Bramble and I waited beneath the oak tree. The street around us was quiet and empty, unusual for this time of day. Perhaps folk were staying inside, away from Ida's attention. My hands shook. Today I would kill a woman. No, not a woman. She wasn't human. I had to remember that. I also had to remember that she might be able to read my thoughts. I couldn't think anything I didn't want her to know. I definitely shouldn't think about our plan.

When Owain returned, he had a length of rope wrapped around his waist, beneath his shirt. He was such a large man that the extra bulk was barely noticeable. My small dagger was already in my boot. Would it be enough to slit a woman's throat? No, I had to remember that Ida wasn't a woman, no matter how much she looked like one. She wasn't human. She wasn't even real.

There was nothing left to say. Owain clapped me on the shoulder, nearly knocking me off my feet. Bramble met my eyes with a solemn gaze. I wished my feet would sink down into the earth beneath me and root themselves there. But step by step, we neared the house Ida had made her own.
 

The curtains were drawn and there was no sign of habitation. But she was there. I felt Ida sense my arrival almost as clearly as if I could see her. She lifted her head, as if scenting me, and turned her face towards where we stood. Despite the walls between us, it felt as if we locked eyes.
 

"Oh Diarmuid," she said, and her voice was a mixture of surprise and disappointment. "You're not really going to try again, are you?"

"Let's go," I said to my companions, gritting my teeth and trying to look confident, despite my quavering voice and shaking knees.

I laid my hand against the smooth panels of the door and pushed. It stayed firmly shut. I tried the handle but it seemed to be locked.

"Let me," Owain said.

I stepped back.

He lowered his shoulder and slammed into the door. It splintered with a groan and swung open, wobbling on loosened hinges. Owain started to enter but I stopped him with my hand on his arm.

"It should be me," I said. "I should be the one who goes first."

He met my eyes and for a moment I thought he would argue. Then he stepped aside.

The interior was dimmer than before, a strange thing since the sky was clear and blue and the sun had yet to lose its morning harshness. Yet inside was the murkiness of late afternoon when the border separating one thing from another becomes harder to distinguish and one must squint to make out the details of a thing. The air was colder than outside and I shuddered as a chill danced down my spine.
 

Ida was in the kitchen, a scene of apparent domesticity. She wore a wide apron, the ties wrapped several times around her slender waist. Beside her, on the work bench, was a large pot, a bunch of herbs and a freshly-skinned hare. The wood stove was lit but I felt no heat from it. The knife flashed as Ida chopped carrots and turnips.

"Diarmuid," Ida said and her tone was entirely pleasant. "Whatever are you doing here?"
 

She spoke as if she had expected me to be gone for the day and I had instead returned home early. I felt wispy tendrils of power snaking out from her and wrapping around my mind. My thoughts wandered. I shook my head and steeled myself against her power.

"You know why," I said. "I'm here to stop you."

"What on earth are you talking about?" Ida trilled a silvery laugh. "I'm merely making soup. And you, my boy, are being extremely rude. Aren't you going to introduce me to your friends? I suppose there will be enough soup for us all. I'll add more vegetables to make it stretch."

Where was Owain? Why wasn't he inching around behind her, ready to grab her so I could tie her up? I suddenly realised what I was thinking and turned my thoughts instead to the ocean. I felt the motion of the waves in my mind and let my thoughts drift with the movement of the water.

Owain stood beside me, gazing at Ida, open-mouthed, his eyes seeing nothing but what she wanted him to.
 

 
"Stop it," I said to Ida. "I know what you're doing."

Her eyes were wide and innocent. "Diarmuid, you know you're a silly boy sometimes. Now, who are your friends? I think there's one fewer than last time. Where is the pretty girl? My oh my, I suppose you boys must fight over her. Such a pretty little thing."

Beside me, Bramble shifted and growled, so softly as to be almost inaudible. A rush of relief flooded me. Owain might succumb to Ida's charms but not Bramble. But without Owain, I didn't have the strength to hold Ida down. I would need a new plan. I tried not to stare at the knife in Ida's hands. Tried not to picture myself pressing it to her throat.
Waves on sand, erasing footprints, leaving behind shells and rocks in their place.

"Do you live here alone?" I asked, stalling.
 

She smiled but there was no warmth in it. "Oh no, I have a companion. A fine young man. He is not presently here but you may meet him if he returns."

Ida finished chopping vegetables and started on the hare. She removed the limbs with a couple of expert slices and began stripping the flesh from the carcass. Beside me, Bramble whined and, for a moment, I saw her skinless form there on the chopping board, her body being divested of flesh in preparation for Ida's soup. Then I blinked and the world shifted and Bramble was by my side again. I restrained the urge to touch her, to reassure myself she was really all right. The more Ida knew about my friends, about how much they meant to me, the more danger they would be in. Even thinking about Bramble might put her in danger.
Seagulls flying above the waves, dipping and soaring with the wind.

But Ida already knew. Of course she knew. She stared at Bramble even as she continued to strip the hare's carcass.

"What a sweet creature," Ida said. "Is she yours, Diarmuid?"
 

I hesitated. If I said yes, Bramble would be in more danger. If I said no, perhaps she would think Bramble didn't belong to anyone and add her to the cooking pot with the hare.

"Yes," I said at last.
 

Bramble's huff was both immediate and expected.

"She's darling," Ida said. "Her spirit fairly blazes from her eyes, but then I expect you know that, don't you, Diarmuid?"

"She's just a dog." I carefully kept my voice casual and thought of restless waves. "Not terribly obedient but she's company."

Bramble's head instantly turned to me and now indeed her spirit did blaze from her eyes. I wanted to beg her to understand but I looked away and didn't let myself think about how I was trying to protect her.

Several soft thuds came as Ida finished chopping the hare and threw the pieces into her cooking pot. She lifted the pot and turned towards the stove. This was our chance.

Owain stared at Ida as she placed the pot on the stove and stirred the contents. I kept my mind blank, not letting myself think about how this was the moment in which Owain was supposed to act. I waved at him, trying to catch his attention without alerting Ida, and finally, reluctantly, he looked at me.

I raised my eyebrows and tipped my head towards Ida.
Waves and currents. Swirling sand and frothy water.

Owain's face was expressionless, his eyes empty.

Ida finished stirring and set down the spoon.
 

Beside me, Bramble uttered a soft growl.
 

Slowly, the fog cleared from Owain's eyes and, finally, it seemed he actually saw me.

Ida turned back to us, wiping her hands on her apron.

At the other end of the house, a door opened and closed.

"Ida, my love, are you here?" a voice called.

"Of course I'm here," Ida snapped. "Where else would I be, you silly man?"

Heavy footsteps along the hall. My palms began to sweat. I pictured an enormous beast of a man, as broad as he was tall, and fierce. When the man entered, I swallowed my surprise. He was rugged, yes, and of muscular physique. But he was no larger than average and had a face which, under other circumstances, I might have described as kind. I saw echoes of his brother in the shape of his forehead and his chin.
 

"Ida, is everything all right?" Davin asked, scanning us each in turn. I could not hold his gaze but looked at my feet. I did not want him to see an intent to murder in my eyes.

"Everything is fine," Ida said. "My dear friend, Diarmuid, has come to visit. And, look, he brought some friends. Although Diarmuid, that reminds me, you never did say what happened to the pretty girl."

Fish swimming, deep beneath the surface.
I said nothing.
 

Ida didn't seem to notice for she turned to Davin and fluttered her eyelashes. "My dear, you are home earlier than I expected." For all her soft words, her voice was waspish. "Did I not tell you to take your time?"

"But I did not want to leave you for so long," Davin protested. "It is not good for you to be alone so much and it is not seemly either."