Winter Kay stood and raised the knife high. ‘The New Age begins, my brothers,’ he said. ‘Let us pray.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE WYRD OF THE WISHING TREE WOODS ROSE FROM HER CHAIR AT the bedside of Call Jace. The once powerful Rigante leader was sleeping fitfully. Saliva drooled from his now twisted mouth. On the other side of the bed Chara Ring reached out and stroked her father’s face. Then she looked up at the Wyrd, her eyes questioning. The Wyrd shook her head, and gestured for Chara to follow her from the room.
‘There must be something you can do. Some magic,’ said Chara. ‘I cannot bear to see him like this.’
‘The damage to his brain is permanent, Chara. I cannot restore it. He will not survive more than a few days. Already his spirit is weakening – as if he knows he will be naught but a cripple.’
‘Are there not herbs to aid him?’ persisted Chara. ‘I know you never liked him. He told me that. He said you thought him to be too much like the Varlish.’
‘Whisht, child! If I was at the bedside of the dying Moidart I would heal him if I could. I was not given this gift so that I could make judgements about who to save. Also – despite the fact that you are right about my not liking him -1 do love him. I love all the Rigante people. If I could restore his health I would, child. That I promise you.’
Chara looked into her green eyes, then sighed. ‘I am sorry,’ she said. ‘That was wrong of me. It is just … he was so powerful. It seemed to me that nothing could ever lay him low.’
‘Aye, he was a man of great strength, and great appetites. Those appetites laid him low. His liver has all but been destroyed by the quantities of uisge he has consumed. Even had the stroke not paralysed him he would not have seen out the year. I am truly sorry, Chara.’
‘I’ll sit with him awhile,’ said Chara, sadly. There are things I want to say. Can he hear me?’
‘I think that he will.’
Chara turned away and re-entered the bedroom, quietly closing the door. The Wyrd drew her shawl around her slender shoulders and walked out to the gallery steps and down into the wide hall below. Scores of clansmen were waiting there, but by the door she saw the hulking figure of Draig Cochland. She moved towards him, and noted that he looked away, embarrassed.
‘How are you faring, Draig?’ she asked him.
‘I am well, Dweller. You?’
‘I have known better days. What are your plans?’
‘Chara has offered me a job at Ironlatch. A job.’ He laughed nervously. ‘I have never had a job.’
‘Perhaps it will suit you.’
‘Aye, and perhaps not.’
‘What is troubling you?’
‘Who said I was troubled?’
‘Do not play games with me, Draig Cochland. I am the Dweller by the Lake. I know these things.’
‘I don’t feel right here, Dweller. Like a spare prick at a wedding, if you take my meaning.’
‘Delicately put.’
‘What? Oh. I didn’t mean to offend.’
‘You don’t offend me, Draig. What you have done has made me proud. You should be proud too.’
‘Yes, well, I’m not. If I could do it all again I wouldn’t. I’d have my brother with me and we’d be safe and warm back home.’
‘I think you are wrong, Draig. If you did have your wish granted you would set out alone. Regret your wasted life of stealing and whoring, by all means. Do not allow yourself to regret the one great action of your life. You are a hero, Draig. Not many men can say that. Three lives will be lived out because of your deeds.’
He reddened and shuffled his feet. ‘How is the great Jace?’ he asked.
‘Dying.’
‘Nah, he’ll pull through. He’s tough. He’s Call Jace.’
‘He is a man, Draig. Death has called for him.’
‘Seems like the whole world is changing,’ he muttered. ‘Nothing is as it was.’
‘There’s truth in that,’ she replied, moving away, and out into the night. Rayster was standing in the moonlight, his long cloak fluttering in the breeze. He seemed to the Wyrd to radiate loneliness. He turned as she approached.