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After Albyn moved through the door, Egan paused to look back and offer a hushed good night. “Rest easy, my lady. I am still your champion.”
Oriana could only nod and hope he would keep her secret. She doubted she would catch a wink of sleep before he returned.
Growing up, Albyn had lived in a small chamber on the same corridor as Egan’s room. It was near the stairway and lacked a fine view of the sea, but as he stepped across the threshold, the years melted away and he felt at home.
“How could this have happened?” he asked. “I don’t recall Cadell ever being ill in all the years I knew him.”
“Nor do I.” Egan sat down on the end of the bed and rested his head in his hands. While he discounted what Ula had told him, he shared her words with Albyn. “I fear I might never know what really happened, but I can not bear the thought of how terribly he must have suffered while I was away.”
Pained by his friend’s torment, Albyn moved to the hearth and turned his back toward the crackling fire. He had studied with the wisest of Druids, a man who had tutored him in the vital lessons of history and claimed the future was foretold in dreams. He had also taught him the great value of listening to enhance good judgment. Albyn still had to chew the inside of his cheek to remain quiet, but he heard more than regret coloring Egan’s disbelief.
“Could something other than fate have hastened his death?” Albyn whispered.
“He had enemies; we all do,” Egan mused, “but they would have challenged him in battle.”
Growing warm, Albyn pulled off his cloak and rolled it around his arms. He laid the resulting bundle upon a low chest and widened his stance. His gray tunic and trousers were worn and did little to disguise his muscular body.
“Granted, but you must still suspect a sinister force. Whatever your decision, I’ll stand with you.”
Egan glanced up. “I’ve not known a Druid warrior. Are you to be the first?”
Uncomfortable now that the subject had shifted to him, Albyn shrugged mirthlessly. “I had such grand dreams when I left here, but I was little more than a reckless boy. I might make a talented bard despite my lack of fine voice, but I’d longed to become more.”
Intrigued, Egan rested his hand on the bed and leaned toward him. “Do you wish to interpret the law as a judge? You possess the requisite fine mind.”
Albyn weighed his words carefully, for he had kept his own counsel for so long it was now difficult to speak freely. “That I have a keen mind is precisely the problem. I believed the Druids possessed all knowledge, all wisdom, all that’s imperative to learn in life, but once I became a part of them, I found only fragments of truth. I swear you and I discovered more about the world racing our mounts against the wind than I’ve mastered in all the years since.”
Egan was stunned, for he had never challenged the beliefs Albyn had just cast aside. “But what of the secret ceremonies?”
“There are secrets,” Albyn admitted thoughtfully. “But none that revealed what I truly ache to know. It’s the future I long to see, but the silent stars, nor fleeting dreams, nor even the bloody entrails of animals sacrificed to the gods reveal anything to me.”
Growing cautious at that admission, Albyn hastened to the door and peered out. The torches along the corridor were growing dim, but no one was about. He re-closed the door, and relieved their privacy was assured, leaned back against it.
“You know what Garrick, or any other Druid, would do to me for voicing my doubts?”
Egan drew in such a deep breath his chest began to hurt. “I imagine they would inflict hideous tortures.”
“Aye, they’d begin with those.” Albyn held his breath for a moment, and then laughed at the absurd drama of life. “It’s good to be home, Egan. By all the gods, it’s good to be home.”
Egan pushed himself off the end of the bed. “I’ll say only that it’s good to have you here. We’ll not repeat this conversation to anyone,” he promised. “But if I must avenge my father’s death, I’ll command you to fight by my side. Your leaving the Druids will be my choice then, not yours, and should any man dare to raise a hand against you, he will have made an enemy of the king.”
Albyn stepped aside to allow him to pass. Not even kings dared anger the Druids, but he knew Egan was sincere. “You’ve also been blessed with a keen mind, my lord.”
Egan punched his old friend on the shoulder as he walked out. “I’ve the better voice, too. Meet me at dawn, and we’ll hunt as we once did.”
“I shall look forward to it,” Albyn promised, but as he prepared for bed in the small chamber that had been his one true home, he doubted anything could ever be as fine as those days long ago.
Egan slid his door open slowly so as not to awaken Oriana, but she was pacing in front of the fire rather than asleep on the foot of his bed or huddled uncomfortably in his chair. “You needn’t have waited up for me,” he said.
Oriana ran her fingers through the curls at her temple and shook out her hair. In truth, she had been awaiting the arrival of doom. “There is so much we must discuss,” she responded. “To begin, I had not expected to remain here until Samhain.”
“I had not expected to find my father dead.” Clearly considering the matter closed, he sat down on the bed to untie his shoes.
Oriana, however, had barely begun, and promptly dismissed his rude rebuff. “I’ll grant that is a far deeper disappointment, but you wished my advice on the loyalties of your kin, and it complicates matters that I must await Samhain to meet them.
“We had not anticipated Albyn’s arrival either, and with him but a thought away from recognizing precisely who I really am, whatever advantage I might have provided you may swiftly be lost. Perhaps the wisest course would be for me to depart before my presence provokes any more troubling questions.”
Egan rolled his eyes. “I think not. I put an end to our companions’ curiosity easily enough tonight and will continue to do so. As for Albyn, he’s far too preoccupied with his own problems to care about you.”
