They both bowed to the old woman when they left. It seemed the thing to do.
Out in the hall, the door closed behind them, Sophia sighed and leaned against the wall. With her guard coming toward them—Edan, this time—Cathal could still make no gesture of comfort. Words had never been his strong suit, but he tried nonetheless. “Progress. You said it yourself.”
“True. And…maybe we won’t need his name, though I begin to think it’ll be required, and perhaps another planet—” She broke off and shook her head. “I ramble. Forgive me. And I ramble because of what I wish not to say: that we knowourprogress. I don’t believe that Valerius is idle.”
Twenty-six
Three days of clear skies and a wind from the southeast had melted most of the snow, and when Sophia went down to the hall for dinner, she stood awhile outside without a cloak, hands and face stretched out to receive the sunlight. There was strength to its heat now, a promise that spring would come even to Loch Arach. Grass was sprouting in the corners of the courtyard, and a few of the trees even had started to bud.
Time went ever onward, and though Sophia knew she might work against it where Valerius was concerned, just then she was glad of the reminder. The world did turn—even if she couldn’t celebrate those turnings properly, her family would, and knowing that was a comfort—and men would move with it, not stuck in one place but making progress, even if they generally knew not their destination.
A row of sealed bottles in the room above doubtless helped her mood, she knew. The last of the defensive potions had come to what looked like a fruitful finish. She’d added some of the solar herbs she’d used with Fergus in the hopes of promoting a little more internal resistance, and had let the dragon scales blend for more time, but hadn’t made many changes to the basic recipe. Itworked. If she could ask Cathal for more scales, she might try others, but the mere success was enough for the moment.
With spare time and herbs, she’d made up another few elixirs—simple herbals in those cases, suitable for women’s ailments and diseases of the gut, or for the ague in the lungs that always struck around springtime. On the road, she might be able to trade them; if she stayed at Loch Arach, she could perhaps use them to buy favor and avert suspicion.
With a pleasant feeling of accomplishment, therefore, she leaned against the doorframe and breathed deeply, noticing how the aroma of wet earth and new growth now mingled around the edges of roasting meat. Munro waited a few feet off, talking with one of the other men and sounding involved enough that she felt no need to worry for his sake. Tilting her face into the gentle wind, Sophia closed her eyes.
“Good,” said Alice from behind her. “I won’t have to climb all those cursed stairs. Has Sir Cathal had any words with you yet?”
Ever since the conversation with Donnag, and perhaps ever since Cathal had come to Sophia’s rescue—though she’d breathed no word of their embrace afterward—Alice had spoken his name with great care to seem careless. She hadn’t tried to talk with Sophia about him either, which was odd itself.
Sophia, therefore, slipped into caution as she shook her head. “I’ve not seen him yet today. He wasn’t awake when I went up to the laboratory. What’s amiss?”
“Visitors,” said Alice. “In a few days. Distinguished ones too, if you trust the gossip, and I often do. Which is all very well and good normally, but I hope they’re aware thatthingscome and attack us out of nowhere here. It could be a nasty surprise for them to find a demon under their bed.”
“The demon only attacked me,” Sophia said, though she couldn’t object too much. She doubted that the creature would have stopped with her, or scrupled to kill anyone in its way. “Anyone worried has only to stay away from me. And if it happens in the great hall, we’ll be surrounded by armed men. Sir Cathal dispatched the last one easily enough, once he arrived.”
“He has a few advantages that the others don’t,” said Alice.
“And if the guests are important, he’ll likely be with them much of the time, so that solves the problem rather neatly.”
“I’m quite the man for neat solutions, when I can manage them,” said Cathal from behind them.
For a big man, he moved very quietly. Alice and Sophia both spun around to face him, and Sophia felt herself blushing. No matter that he’d overheard a compliment, if anything, or that their subjects had been only reasonable ones for common discussion, she’d still been talking about him. Besides, every time she met his eyes, her clothing felt too tight, and she was afraid it showed on her face.
She cleared her throat. “I hear you’re to expect guests, my lord.”
“Not quite. You’re to expect a proper host.” Standing in the shadows of the doorway, Cathal looked more silhouette than man, but Sophia could hear relief in his voice, and she thought she saw a genuine smile. “My brother, Douglas, is coming back, though God knows for how long. He’ll be bringing a few others too…an English hostage and a few allies, or men who might be. And he can handle a demon as well as I can.”
“Will he…” Sophia looked upward toward where she knew her laboratory and Fergus’s room to be, though she could see neither from her angle. “Is he likely to permit me to continue my experiments, do you think?”
“Aye. He’ll do that.”
Cathal spoke not with trust so much as determination, but that satisfied Sophia nonetheless and left her smiling in a way that confidence in his brother might not have done. Conscious of Alice’s presence, she schooled her voice to casual curiosity and asked, “And will you be going back to the battle?”
“There’s not a battle to rejoin,” Cathal said, and Sophia’s heart unclenched. “Not just now. ’Tis why Douglas is coming home, and Moiread soon enough. It’s to my father to handle the treaties. I know not where I’ll go, but I’ll not leave the castle until Fergus is…well.”
One way or another, Sophia finished silently for him.
“I’m glad to hear it,” said Alice. “Though sorry it’s not the outcome you’d have wished…but you seem to have gotten your family through it alive.”
“I’ll take that any day,” said Cathal. “This is no surprise.”
“Will you…” Sophia glanced away, wishing she’d learned more of courtly etiquette. “If we’re to move tables for dinner, only let us know.”
“No. Not at all. There’s room enough, and probably not many women.” He’d shifted position just slightly, or the light had changed, and this time Sophia did see him smile: rueful and almost boyish. “Besides, I’d be right glad of a friend.”
“Then I’d be glad to help,” said Sophia.
