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look. “I’m no man’s servant,” he said. “But I’m one of Anluan’s folk.”
    Soon we were back on the path, which wound steeply upwards through small groves of elder and willow.Whistling Tor was far bigger than it looked from down in the settlement. At last, above us between the trees loomed the massive bulk of the fortress wall.
    “Gate’s around that way a bit,” Olcan said, halting. “Don’t go back downhill.”
    “Thank you,” I said. “I’m most grateful.Where exactly—”
    But before I could ask for further directions, he turned on his heel and strode back down the hill, Fianchu padding silently after him. I was on my own again.

chapter two
    I skirted the wall, telling myself to breathe slowly. Those voices, those creeping hands . . . I had been too quick to dismiss Tomas and Orna’s stories as fantasy. And afterwards, I’d been so alarmed by the appearance of Fianchu that I hadn’t even thought to ask Olcan what the mysteri ous presences were. I understood, now, why people never came up here. If Olcan hadn’t appeared at the right moment to rescue me, I’d probably have become so hopelessly lost I’d never have emerged from the woods again. I just hoped I would get the scribing job so I didn’t have to walk back down the hill today.
    I paused to tidy my hair and straighten my clothing. I practiced what I would say to Lord Anluan or to whomever I met when I finally reached the front door. My name is Caitrin, daughter of Berach. My father trained me as a scribe. He was famous throughout our area for his fine calligraphy and undertook commissions for all the local chieftains. I can read and write both Latin and Irish, and I’m prepared to stay here all summer. I am certain I can do the job. Perhaps not that last bit—it implied a confidence I did not feel. Ita had told me often enough that women could never ply such crafts as penmanship as well as men could, and that I was deluding myself if I imagined I was any different. I knew she was expressing society’s view when she said that. Any commissions I had fulfilled had always been presented to customers as my father’s work. It had irked Father that such subterfuge was necessary if we wanted fair payment. Folk believed, generally, that all I did was mix inks, prepare quills and keep the workroom tidy.
    Lord Anluan would likely be no different from others we had worked for. He might well find it hard to believe that anyone other than a monk could read and write, for secular scribes such as my father were a rare breed. As for convincing this chieftain to employ a young woman for such work, that might not be so hard, I thought, in the light of the difficulty Magnus seemed to be having in finding helpers who would stay.
    Further around the wall there was an arched opening with the remnant of iron fastenings to either side. If there had been a gate to block this entry, it had long since crumbled away to nothing.The fortress would once have provided an impregnable refuge, a safe retreat for the inhabitants of local farms and settlements in time of war. The stone blocks that formed it were massive. I could not for the life of me imagine how they had been moved into place.
    Everything was damp.The stones were covered with creeping mosses; small ferns had colonized every chink and crevice, and long-thorned briars clustered thickly around the base of the wall, a forbidding outer barrier. I looked up at the towers and was seized by dizziness. Fine day or not, their tips were lost in a misty shroud.
    Narrow slit windows pierced these towers, designed for the shooting of arrows in defense. There were some larger openings lower down, and from the gateway where I stood I glimpsed someone moving about inside, perhaps a woman. Magnus is the most ordinary it gets up there , Tomas had said.
    I advanced cautiously through the gap.The space enclosed by the wall was immense, far bigger than it had seemed from outside, and there were buildings of various kinds