“You’re not well.”
“I am plenty rested.”
“Hogshit.”
“Is it proper for the Vaich to have such a foul mouth?”
“Be quiet.” Grumbling, the Vaich settled him back against the pillow, pulling the blankets over his legs.
“No need for theatrics,” said the druid. “We simply consummated. I am not on my deathbed.”
The Vaich’s fingers tightened in the sheets.
“I see.” The druid tilted his head. “The idea of our copulating has greatly unsettled you. It was my understanding this was your wish. Now the castle, and all of Cullach, will know you have claimed me. What have you to fear?”
“Don’t spew nonsense!”
“Nonsense? A day ago you were happy to remind me—”
The king grasped for him, but fell deliberately short, clawing at the air instead. “The gods curse me with you,” he said, his head falling forwards. “You’re infuriating.”
The druid watched with keen eyes. He understood, then.
This was not the same man from yesterday.
“What…” The Vaich struggled with the words, pushing up slow, reluctant growls. “Tell me of… these visions.”
“You’re asking me?”
“I said as much!”
The druid considered it. He had not dreamt now. Perhaps it was different when he slept against his will. Suppose Hirí’s medicine had something to do with it. He still felt odd in the wake of the pill.
“I dream of pale ships on the horizon, manned by murderous giants.”
The Vaich stared.
“By the flame, youaremad.”
“No,” said the druid, “I don’t think so. I did not know what to believe, at first. But then I went down into the lake. I should have died there. Perhaps I did.”
“I pulled you from the water myself.”
“And how did you receive me?”
The Vaich’s brow wrinkled as the admission rippled across his face. “You were unbound. Your anchors removed.”
“Something that wasn’t you released me,” said the druid. “I would neither believe, nor embrace it, but I cannot deny what is true. I went down into dark water, and I heard this… voice.”
“And what did it say?”
The druid shook his head. “It was not words, but sensation—illusion. I saw a land of ice and frost… I believe it showed me beyond the storm.”
“The Quell? That’s impossible.”
“That there might be lands beyond the sea? It seems only reasonable.”
“The Quell is not simply a gale. Hundreds of men have gone out beneath the tempest and never returned. The water is unforgiving, and cold as a thousand blades. The swells would leave even the sturdiest ship overturned.”
