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"Aye, I'm here. No," she ordered sharply as he stirred. "Lie back. I'll send for help."

"Nay. You help me."

She slipped an arm beneath his neck, catching him as he fell back. "Please, Alistair, lie still."

"Aye. I canna do it. I'm sorry, Ian," he mumbled, and Deirdre and Ronan exchanged frightened glances.

"Ye must." Ian stood behind the two kneeling forms, arms crossed across his chest. "Get up, Alistair. Ye can and ye will. She needs ye now, as does your bairn."

"I have no bairn..."

"Nor will ye if ye do not shift yourself right now. She will die," he said, nodding toward Deirdre. "Today. And your child with her."

Alistair raised his head and stared past Deirdre. "Is it true?"

"Aye. Now get up and get back to Ravenspur."

Deirdre put her hands on Alistair's shoulders as he tried to lift himself. "Stop!" she cried. "You mustn't move—"

"Aye, I must. Get me on the horse." He forced his aching eyes toward Ronan. "You do it, Fitzgerald—and we'll call it quits between us."

Ronan nodded. "I'll do it."

"Ronan, you cannot! He's raving, don't you see? Get back and bring a litter—"

"Quiet, Dee," Ronan ordered. "Do as he says."

"Deirdre," Alistair said. "Help me. Please."

The desperation in Alistair's last word decided her. "It will be the death of you," she said, but even as she spoke she was putting one shoulder beneath his. He clamped his teeth into his lips as she and Ronan half carried him to the horse.

"He cannot ride," Deirdre protested.

"I can."

She watched through a blur of tears as he slowly climbed into the saddle. "Get up behind me," he said carefully. "Don't let me fall."

The ride to Ravenspur passed like a dark dream as Alistair swam in and out of consciousness. When he opened his eyes he saw Ian walking beside the horse. The corbies fluttered behind his head.

"Damned birds," Alistair muttered. "Waiting for their meal."

"What birds?" Ronan asked.

"Don't ask," Deirdre said grimly. "You don't want to know."

Ian grinned. "They aren't going to eat you. That was just for show."

He held up his hands and the birds flew over to him. As they landed, their wings shimmered, changed, and Ian was holding two white doves.

"I meant them for the best," Ian said, sounding faintly apologetic. "But ye would not see it. Ye kept believing they were a portent of your death."

"Twa corbies. Ye ken the song."

Ronan cocked his head. "The Twa Corbies? Aye, I know it, but I don't often play it. Too grisly. Though it does have a rather striking melody...and that passage at the end—quite haunting, if you can catch the sound of wind blowing over bones..."

"I'd never listened to every word of the damned song, had I?" Ian said defensively. "God's teeth, Alistair, d'ye always have to take everything so literally?"

"Me?" Alistair laughter was a harsh whisper of a sound. "Oh, 'tis my fault now!"