“Unless there is another attack,” Eira countered. “Will you risk that?”
Lukasz glowered at her, but Claudio answered, “I believe you to be right, Eira. Perhaps this incident is a punishment for our failure to act on the prisoner’s bidding.”
“You believe God sent Sorcha to the stake to teach us a lesson?” Barrow growled.
Claudio took a few steps back and Father Michael placed a gentle hand on Barrow’s arm. “A poor choice of words, perhaps.”
Fionn quickly came to Claudio’s defense, saying, “He only meant that we must consider the course Eira suggests more seriously than we once did. I agree.”
“Is there another option?” Ewan, who had hung back, pacing beneath the Conatus crest, finally spoke. “Can we not call for aid?”
“From whom?” Cian asked. “We cannot ask our brothers and sisters of the order. We’ve all sworn to deal with domestic conflicts on a local scale in order to keep our connections secret. To bring foreign knights into Tearmunn would violate that code.”
“From Rome, then?” Ewan said, turning to Father Michael.
“What say you, Father?” Claudio asked.
Father Michael shook his head. “There will be no aid from Rome, for there is no Rome to call upon. As long as the schism divides our Church, we have no one to turn to.”
“Let me speak with the prisoner,” Eira said. “If he does not reveal the source of the attack, if he can give us nothing of use, then we shall follow Lukasz’s plan and seal ourselves within these walls until the danger is past.”
Claudio nodded. “I see no other way.”
Thomas and Ewan murmured their assent, though they exchanged a worried glance.
“Father Michael?” Cian asked. “Fionn?”
The priest smiled sadly. “I am no warrior. I defer to the will of the Circle.”
“I agree with my peers,” Fionn answered. “We must seek the cause of this tragedy. And Eira has offered the most plausible means to do so.”
Cian turned to Lukasz. “I won’t agree to this course of action without the support of the Guard.”
Lukasz sighed. “If it must be so, I will consent.”
“And the rest of you?” Cian’s gaze swept over the other knights.
“We serve at the will of our commander,” Kael answered.
“Thank you,” Eira said. “I am humbled by your trust.”
She looked at Lukasz. “By your leave, Commander, I would take Alistair with me when I interrogate the prisoner. It would be wise to have another sword at hand.”
“As you wish,” Lukasz murmured. Though he faced Eira, his gaze was somewhere distant.
“For now we must protect our order from the wrath of the villagers,” Cian told them. “Spread the word that none are to leave Tearmunn until further notice. Any person from the village who begs entry must be unarmed before being given leave to pass through our gates.”
“Will our defensiveness aggravate their fears?” Thomas asked.
“I will send messages of goodwill,” Father Michael said. “It is my hope that we may use words rather than weapons to settle this matter.”
Thomas nodded.
“May we take our leave?” Lukasz asked roughly. “I must inform the rest of my knights that we have lost a sister.”
“Of course,” Eira said.
“I will accompany you,” Father Michael told him. “To share in your grief and offer prayers for her eternal soul.”
Cian took the priest’s arm. “As will I.”
Lukasz bowed to the Circle and left the room with Kael trailing after him. Father Michael and Cian moved quietly to the door, speaking to each other in low tones. Barrow followed, but Ember hesitated. She glanced at the departing knights and then at Alistair.
“Will you come with us?” she asked him.
It was Eira who answered her. “I don’t want to delay our new mission, Lady Morrow. I’m afraid I must ask Alistair to remain with me.”
Alistair nodded, taking Ember’s hands. “I’ll speak with you soon, Ember. Be well. I thank God for your safe deliverance from this terrible night.”
Ember offered him a weak smile, finding his formality strange and out of character.
With a much more confident smile, Eira said, “Indeed, Ember. We rejoice in your health and safety, for in the coming fight you will be greatly needed.”
Frowning in confusion, Ember forced herself to murmur, “Thank you, my lady.”
Alistair squeezed her fingers and pulled her closer, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “Remember, Eira is coming to speak with you soon. Our world is changing and you must be ready. Eira’s way is the only way.”
He straightened and dropped her hands.
Unsettled by his words, she stepped back, wanting to run to the door. Instead she forced herself to depart at a dignified pace. Alistair walked with her, bidding her good night and closing the doors to the great hall behind her. As she stood alone in the corridor, Ember heard the doors’ massive bolts slide into place. The groan of metal against wood echoed around her and Ember was gripped by a sudden, cold sense that something had gone awry in the way a tiny fissure in a lodestone could bring down the greatest of buildings.
THIRTY-TWO
THOUGH HER FEET were moving, Ember wasn’t conscious of walking. Tears stained her face, yet crying had also become an involuntary reflex. Grief numbed her as she trudged from the manor to the barracks, but she walked on. There was nothing else to do.
Once inside the barracks she hesitated. Where to go? Conatus was an order steeped in history and ritual—and they’d just lost one of their own. Were there preparations to be made, actions she should take?
These were questions to ask her mentor. Of late her teacher had been Sorcha. Now Sorcha was gone. When Ember closed her eyes, she saw flames leaping toward the sky, heard the crackle and hiss of kindling being consumed by fire, and gagged as the tendrils of smoke curled upward, encircling Sorcha like the ropes that bound her to the stake.
Ember’s mind too quickly fixed on these horrible visions. She couldn’t face them alone.
If she went to Barrow, what would he do? Not only had he relinquished the role of mentor, but after what had happened in the forest . . . Thinking of his touch, his warmth offsetting the cool rain, made her head spin. She didn’t know what any of it meant.