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I said, “Fine, yeah, that’s what happened. I am otherwise very smart but I lost my mind.”

“Aye, ye did, and we are also lost in Alba and need tae keep our senses about us. We want tae get home.”

He put Dude into the saddle bag, “Ye stay, cat, we must go.”

“Are we good, Torin?”

“Aye.” He patted me on my thigh, then took my hand and kissed the knuckles.

Then he climbed back up on Cathbarr and turned his horse. “And we are findin’ a church first thing, mo leannan, tis clear that I need tae marry ye properly.”

I asked, “And we’re not truly lost right? You know where we’re going?”

“We arna truly lost, we are headed tae Dalmally. We are halfway there.”

“Halfway! You said that an hour ago. Och, I am going to complain so hard, Albannach.”

He laughed.

And we began to travel.

26

ALEXANDRIA

1308 - THROUGH THE PASS OF BRANDER JUST AFTER THE BATTLE

The path narrowed and the hills closed in. The river ran hard on one side, dark and fast between the rocks. Even the horses seemed to feel it, Cathbarr’s ears went back.

Torin was watching the sky and I followed his eyes to see some dark birds circling. He twisted in the saddle and reached into one of the bags. He pulled out a length of cloth, set it against the pommel, and tore it down the middle with his teeth and his good hand.

He held one piece out to me. “Put this over yer mouth.”

I took it, frowning. “Why? Like a bandit? What for?”

“We are coming on the battlefield.”

My eyes went wide. “Ew, the one the king just fought?”

“Aye, in the Pass of Brander. Twas fought a little more than a fortnight past. Ye will want yer nose covered.”

Ahead of us the ravens circled, black against the gray sky.

I tied the cloth behind my head. The linen smelled of the bag, of horse and damp wool. Torin bound his own piece around his face and gathered the reins again. “Stay close.”

We rode into the pass.

As we neared the field, ravens lifted in dark clouds, black and ominous against the sky. Their calls filled the pass, but otherwise it was quiet, except for something small I couldn’t see, rustling in the heather.

The path was churned up, dark and muddy, many people had passed through here, their horses and boot prints roiling the ground. Then it had dried into potholes before being rained on again.

The river sounded loud in the narrow place, rushing against stone, and there were thick smells riding the damp air: wet earth, old smoke, and a rotting sweetness that made my throat close even behind the makeshift cloth covering.

I tasted metal.

To my right the field looked flattened in wide patches, brown and dead, as if a great weight had pressed down on the grass. The whole place felt weighty, heavy and dismal, a battle had been fought, people had died. Then the armies had moved on. It had never been something I had thought about.

Ahead of me Torin’s eye caught something on the side of the path, a broken spear shaft stuck into the mud. Further on, a scrap of cloth was caught on a bramble, rain-faded, moving a little in the wind. There were dark stains in the hollows where water had pooled and not quite washed the ground clean.