The Islands of the Blessed

Some folk whispered that they needed curses, and the Bard sent them packing. “Be off with you! I don’t deal in curses,” he shouted. “Go ask at the monastery. I’m told they have curses to spare.” He was still smarting over his reception by Father Severus.

They rode out to meet Pangur Ban in the evenings. Ethne was slightly more cheerful, the cat reported. She liked the flowers the Bard sent her. She had begun to sing again. She could almost, but not quite, touch a ray of sunlight that came through the chapel door and landed beneath her narrow window. Jack’s heart burned with indignation at her imprisonment even though it had been her choice.

When everything else had been sold, the Bard thrust aside his pride, and he and Jack approached Father Severus again. “I don’t have time for your foolishness,” the abbot said angrily. “I’ve got someone who’s come down with flying venom in my infirmary. We had to burn his house to keep it from spreading.”

“This won’t take long,” the Bard said. “I have a selection of Brother Aiden’s inks to sell.” He placed a basket on the floor.

The abbot had signaled a hefty monk to remove the intruders, but at the mention of Brother Aiden he sent the man away. “Is that the ink they used on the Holy Isle?”

“The same,” said the Bard. “Rose red, heavenly blue, leaf green, the yellow of morning sun. It is as though you looked through a stained-glass window.”

Jack smiled, remembering the window in the monastery storeroom. It had been small, made up of fragments of the original on the Holy Isle, but even those shone with a glory not altogether of this world.

“No one ever made finer colors than Brother Aiden,” said Father Severus. “I’d pay handsomely if he were willing to part with the formula.”

“Let me tell you a story,” the Bard said. “Aiden, like all Picts, holds the secret to making heather ale.”

“I’ve tasted it,” the abbot said. “If you were burning in Hell, one drop would soothe your entire body.”

“A Scottish king captured one of Aiden’s ancestors and threatened to kill him. But he promised a hoard of gold and the hand of his daughter if the man would reveal the recipe for heather ale. The man preferred to die. That’s the resistance you’re up against if you want to learn how Aiden mixes ink.”

Father Severus sighed. “What outrageous price do you demand?”

The Bard named a sum and added, “I want to see my daughter.”

The abbot laughed. “I’m afraid that isn’t possible. Ethne chose her penance willingly and her immortal soul depends on it. No male speaks to her, not even me.”

“I’m her father!”

“A mere accident,” said Father Severus. “A year ago you didn’t even know she existed.”

“But I do now!” The two men faced each other, and Jack felt a thrum of power from the Bard’s staff. Equally, he sensed a cold wall of resistance from the abbot. Where had he encountered that force before? Was it when he saw the powers of the living world dash themselves against the walls of Din Guardi? Was it Unlife he felt?

“Thorgil could visit her,” Jack said before the confrontation could come to blows. Both men turned to look at him. “She could check on Ethne’s welfare.”

“It’s true,” the abbot said unwillingly. “Thorgil isn’t a male, though you’d have to look twice to prove it.”

The Bard nodded. “Very well, Thorgil can take my place, but with these conditions: The bricks sealing up my daughter’s cell must be replaced by a door. I don’t want Ethne trapped should there be an earthquake or a fire. I also insist that you store jugs of water in her room in case of an emergency.”

“The door must remain locked at all times,” bargained Father Severus, “and I alone shall keep the key. I want no misguided rescue attempts. Also, Thorgil must come unarmed and in women’s clothes.” The abbot smiled and Jack’s heart sank. He had yet to see the shield maiden unarmed or in a dress.

The two men shook hands, and it seemed to Jack that the Bard winced when Father Severus touched him.

“I swear,” fumed the old man as they rode to Din Guardi, “I’ll come back and wipe the smile off that pompous ass’ face. If I wasn’t so worried about the draugr, I’d do it right now. But with Thorgil’s help, Ethne’s existence should at least be bearable until either I or Skakki return to free her.”

Either? thought Jack, depressed. Why not both? It seemed the Bard wasn’t all that confident about returning from Notland. The boy puzzled over the change in Father Severus’ behavior. The man had always been inflexible and grim, but there had been a real core of kindness in him. He’d rescued the child Aiden and taken him to the Holy Isle. He’d cared for Jack, Pega, and Thorgil in the dungeons of Elfland. What had happened to him?