“Then why are they here?” she asked. “Is not the war in your own world, or has it spilled into mine?”
Bosque shook his head. “You’re right to question me. The war is being waged in my own lands, but the spaces by which I can bring my warriors into this world give me an advantage against my enemies.”
She cast a sidelong glance at him. “How so?”
“The creatures of my world take their sustenance from things other than flesh,” he said.
“The striga feed on flesh,” she countered.
Bosque offered her an indulgent smile. “Human flesh is only a small part of what striga need to survive. It is their victims’ terror upon which they truly feed.”
“Fear?” Eira’s chest tightened.
“Hence the reason they prefer to hunt children,” he told her. “Their fear is much stronger, purer. The fear of a grown man or woman is tainted by their mind’s attempts to rationalize the attack.”
She bristled at the casual way in which he discussed the murder of children.
“But striga are among the basest creatures I can command.” Bosque shifted in his saddle. “For this same reason they are more easily summoned by your feeble magicians, as are the spirits that revive corpses or the mischievous imps that gain strength from cruel tricks. They enter your world by my leave, and by my leave they serve men here.”
“Are you saying that the only reason these monsters cross over to our world is because they prefer the food here?” She wanted to gag. For the entire mission of Conatus to be reduced to a matter of predators and prey seemed like sacrilege.
“Perhaps it’s too much of a simplification,” Bosque said. “But in some ways, yes.”
“Is that what happened to the people of Dorusduain?” Eira asked. “Has an entire village filled the bellies of your beasts?”
Bosque smiled slowly. “No. Dorusduain is a lesson . . . and an unfinished one at that.”
“I tire of your riddles.” Filled with disgust, Eira reined in her mare. “We have nothing more to discuss. How dare you insult me by rendering the world I’ve sworn to protect into cattle for your wolves to slaughter!”
He pulled up his mount. “Please, Eira. You misunderstand me. I only offer this poor explanation in order to reveal to you how it might end.”
Her resolve to quit this meeting slackened. “End?”
“You and I contend with each other when we would do better to unite our efforts,” he told her. “The truth is we want the same thing.”
“And what is that?” Eira asked.
“To win our wars.”
“My war seeks the destruction of your minions,” she countered.
“Does it?” He smiled. “Or is there another war better suited to your nature?”
Bosque waved his hand and the mist parted. She couldn’t help but gasp at the impossible sight before her. No longer riding on the ridge in the hills above Tearmunn, she saw the last curls of mist floating above a sun-drenched field. Peasants were at work in the soil, preparing for the spring planting. Their horses stood on a wide path that curved up to an imposing manor.
Eira gripped the reins, trying to calm herself. A ride that should have taken all day had somehow passed in less than an hour.
“I apologize if I’ve shocked your senses,” Bosque said. “I merely wanted to save us the trouble of a long journey.”
“You travel through the threads of the earth?” Eira asked slowly. “As we do?” She hadn’t seen the shimmering light of a woven portal, but perhaps its presence had been shrouded in the heavy mist.
“No,” Bosque answered. “I cannot open such doors. But there are other doors available to me. Sadly, my talent for travel is limited. I can only pass through them with the one who has called me here, as my presence here is tethered to that person. Conatus has the power to move armies at a moment’s notice. An enviable skill indeed.”
She didn’t answer, unsure if she was more unsettled by the incredible power he’d just demonstrated, his observations about Conatus, or where he’d taken them.
“What are we doing here?” Sensing her rider’s anxiety, Geal tossed her head. Eira was relieved to turn her attention to controlling the horse. Handling a restless mount was much preferable to considering the consequences of being in this place in the company of the mysterious Bosque Mar.
“Have I brought you here in error?” he asked, smiling. “Is this not the home of your enemy?”
Having gotten control of her mare, Eira nodded. Then she turned to look again upon Abbot Crichton’s estate.
TWENTY-FOUR
“WOULD YOU LIKE to admire the manor for much longer?” Bosque asked Eira with the trace of a smile.
The look she threw at him was sour. “You speak to me as though you’ve offered a satisfying explanation of why you’ve brought me here.”
Bosque laughed. “Why I’ve brought you here must be shown, not explained. Shall we pay our respects to the abbot?”
He urged his mount into a trot, leaving Eira’s mare to follow a short distance behind. As they approached the ornately carved doors of the abbot’s house, suspicion crept into her mind. What if all of this—from the prisoner to the strange appearance of Bosque on the hillside—were some elaborate plot orchestrated by the abbot himself? What if he sought a way to accuse her of treachery?
Eira shook off her doubts. Though he benefitted from overseeing Tearmunn, the abbot kept his involvement with their work minimal. He cared not for the arcane knowledge housed in their libraries or the magic wielded by their clerics. Sometimes she wondered if the abbot even believed that the evils Conatus faced were real. She also doubted he was imaginative enough to create such an intricate trap.
When they reined in their horses near the manor, servants hurried to meet them. Bosque murmured softly to his mount. The shadow horse shifted its weight and seemed to gain more substance. The movement beneath its glossy coat became less pronounced. The strange green light in its eyes dimmed.
One of the servants took their horses to be watered and fed at the abbot’s stables, which Eira had heard he’d filled with fine steeds from the far reaches of the earth—not to put to use, but simply to admire. The other servant led them into the house.
They were taken to the abbot’s study. He sat at a wide table of polished ebony.