He shook his head, mind spinning with a thousand thoughts. “I am well, thank you. What… what are you doing here?”
“The place was full of noise.” The holler looked briefly in the direction of the hall, far away in the belly of the castle. “It don’t suit me.”
The druid softened. “I often feel the same.”
“Thought a walk would do me good. But this whole place is a cage.”
“You would certainly find more joy beyond the city gates.”
“Suppose I shan’t find it now.”
The druid relaxed somewhat, but his body still shivered. Once more, he glanced over his shoulder, but the corridor was empty.
Nacht’s gaze followed. “There’s an off energy about. Shall I return His Majesty to his chamber?”
The druid thought to deny him, but that empty corridor was unsettling, and so he nodded.
Nacht gestured him ahead, and the two departed the cloister, heading for the south tower.
“I am sorry about the Vaich’s decision,” the druid said more gently.
“Nothing to be done,” Nacht said. “I expected little from this new Vaich, but you’re still his Queen, and you have his ear.”
That was a curious way to broach a conversation, and the druid gathered the holler was not a man of subtlety.
“I hardly think he respects me more than you,” he said.
Nacht glanced sideways at him. “Then we both have work to do. The east’s never been a simple thing, but this boy and his crown… he dinnae ken what he’s wandering about to. There’s a shifting. The eastlings grow bold.”
“It was my understanding the Dúnan Toor were to manage the mountains.”
“Aye,” said the holler. “But they are easily swayed. With a turn of the wind, they might change their loyalty. It is my men who mind the true border. For we are the last of honor before abyss.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
The two had reached the druid’s chamber and stopped in the empty hall.
“The Vaich isnae prepared for those he’ll come to greet,” said Nacht. “When the Aardmût gets east, the more dangerous things will be. Old Lach’Dun was a good king, and even he couldnae sew the deep wounds. Bargains and sweet words, aye. But it’s an even head that could curry favor from fiends. If I were a praying man, I would put my knee before one who could speak with gentler tongues.”
“You ask me to parley with these men?”
The holler shook his shaggy head. “I ask you to temper a blade.”
“A difficult task.”
“If anyone could do it, it’s a woodsingr.” Nacht bowed again, this time bending at the waist. “G’night, Majesty.”
The druid lingered in the hall after he had gone, his mind working through the day.
The castle had become a crossroad where power met play. The druid, who had never mattered to anyone or meant much of anything, had become a riddle around which men orbited, and he was no closer to knowing why.
He slipped quietly into his room, retrieving the folded paper from his sleeve. It still smelled of dust.
For a moment, he held the life he had once lived within his hands. His world of ancient wisdom and quiet truth. He and that battered bit of paper were all that had survived the flame. He felt both pride… and shame.
Maybe if he had stayed all those years ago… maybe none of this would have happened. Instead, he spent a lifetime running, deluding himself into believing his ghosts would never find him. Now, he had no choice but to face them.
But to return…
