“Thereisthat,” Douglas admitted and turned himself to regard Sophia, who sat still and tried not to squirm under the collective attention. “The dreams and the demons. The man’s too familiar with other worlds.”
“Other worlds?” Sophia broke her silence. “I knew the demon wasn’t from the earth, of course, and I had my suspicions about the place of the dreams. I’d read things, but I’d no way of knowing it was true. My lord,” she added, aware of Cathal’s grin.
Douglas didn’t smile, but neither did he look reproving, only solemn and thoughtful. “It sounds true. This world contains, or touches on, many others. You can reach some of them by dreams or trances, sure enough, and if you’ve taken both harm and plunder from the place you visit, I would wager it’s real.”
“Do you know it?” Alice asked. “Could you go there?”
“To the portion that Valerius has shaped? Mayhap, if Sophia were there already. Not, I think, without a link of that sort. And once there, I doubt I could do more than she has against the wizard. Until we know more, his defenses will hold.” Douglas took a slow sip of wine.
“Best we find out quickly,” Cathal said, “as was my point. As I can’t kill the man, I can be human and stay out of his sight while I ask questions.”
“Can you? With a magician who doubtless knows what to look for?” Douglas snorted. “I very much doubt it. He’s seen you before, and he’ll know you’ve reason to come after him. The man or his creatures will mark you five minutes after you’ve crossed the borders.”
Cathal leaned forward, hands on the table. The firelight showed the rich colors in his plaid, the same pattern as Douglas’s, but the faces above them were far apart in expression. “You can’t be sure of that. We can’t wait. And with you here and Moiread returning, it’s only my neck that I’m risking.”
“Unless Valerius claims your mind and uses you against us. Or uses your body as a way into the castle,” said Douglas. “You never understood magic, and this is more complex than charging a line of spearmen. Be guided by wiser heads, will you?”
The way the two of them glared at each other, there might have been nobody else in the room. Sophia didn’t know whether she expected the air to burst into flames first, or one of the MacAlasdair brothers to throw a punch, but she knew she had to nerve herself to speak before they did—and she knew that Douglas was right. Connections made magic.
“Honestly,” said Alice, shaking her head the way she’d always done over her sons, and her siblings before that. “Good sirs,I’lldo it.”
Both men swung their heads around to look at her, and although their forms didn’t change at all, in that moment Sophia could easily see the dragons under their skins. If they hadn’t both looked poleaxed, it would have been terrifying. As it was, she bit back the urge to giggle.
“You?” Cathal frowned, but not angrily. “Could work.”
“Yes, it could,” Alice said. “You fly me to the border of Valerius’s lands, or as far in as you think you can get before he notices you. I’ll go further in and ask questions. Sophia can tell me what I seek, though I suspect I know much of it already. Once I find it, I’ll return to you, and we’ll fly back here.”
She said the wordflyas if it were poison, but otherwise she spoke briskly and unflinchingly.
“It’s dangerous,” Douglas said. “You do know that, madam.”
“I think I’m more aware than you are, my lord,” said Alice, “having seen at least the signs of his creatures. If I sought perfect safety, I would have remained in France. And if you,” she added, rounding on Sophia just as she’d been about to protest, “can draw this man’s attention such that he’s throwing you into other worlds and setting demons upon you, then I can very well go to this man’s land and talk to his people. I’m quite human, and quite ordinary, and nobody notices women unless we’ve titles.”
“He’ll have human minions, as well as the magical sort,” said Cathal. “Not pleasant men.”
“There are plenty of unpleasant men in the world. I’ll do my best to avoid them. With any luck, most of them will still be out looting battlefields.”
Sophia bit back her protest. The errand was necessary. If Alice was willing, Sophia wouldn’t degrade her sacrifice by trying to talk her out of it. For the second time that night, she reached over to Alice and took her hand.
From her other side, though there was no physical touch, she felt Cathal’s gaze on her face. “I’ll do all that I can,” he said when she turned to look at him. His eyes met hers squarely; he wouldn’t insult her with more reassurance.
Twenty-eight
“Generally speaking,” said Munro, “you’ll want to kick a man in the knees or hit him in the nose. They both hurt like a right ba…devil, aye, and then with the nose, he’ll be blind for a space. With the knees, he’ll no’ be able to run.”
“Not…” Sophia gestured vaguely to the air around her groin.
She and Alice, for whom the lessons were really meant, made strange figures, standing in the practice yard while the wind blew their gowns around their legs and tugged at their plaited hair. Such a sight was not unheard of at Loch Arach—Moiread had mostly worn breeches and a tunic, but she’d practiced a time or two in women’s dress, “just in case,” although those occasions had been rare. Sophia had never listened so quietly or looked so uncertain.
Munro grinned. “Oh, aye, the ballocks are a grand target as well, mistress. Only not for the first strike, not unless he’s by way of having other things on his mind. A man in a fight will guard the jewels well, and a man fighting a woman will expect her to strike there first. Knees or nose, sir?”
Cathal pushed himself off the wall and stepped forward. When he’d found that both women carried daggers, but neither had been trained, he’d thought to give instruction himself—until Munro had pointed out that few ofhisskills would be of use in any fight Alice might face. He was a big man. Even if he’d been purely human, a punch from him could have broken bones. He’d learned to be on guard against dirty fighting, but he’d never truly thought to learn it, not to the depths a man like Munro had, because he’d never even considered a time when he might need it.
And so he’d become a set of pells.
“If it please you, sir?” Munro asked.
After a quick bow of apology, Cathal caught hold of Alice’s shoulders—the typicalExplain yourself, woman, and do it quicklygrab—his grip firm but, he hoped, not too tight. She kicked out and connected a solid blow to his upper shin, but well below the knee.
