Merlin heard footsteps and metal clicking and scraping. Then the door creaked open. “May I help you?” Mônda said. “Do you need something smithed?”
A short moment later, she screeched in joy.
“Yes, yes, it is I. And here is your brother grown into a man. Do not hold me thus, my daughter. I am not a mound spirit that will disappear with the mist.”
Merlin had never heard Mônda so giddy. “Come in … please! We’ll have food ready soon, and you must join us.” The three entered, and the heavy oak door shut.
The sounds muffled, and Merlin wished he’d followed to learn more about these strange relatives.
But in a moment it didn’t matter, for the voices changed to shouting. The door opened again, and someone ran from the house, presumably Anviv, since his strange father’s low voice yelled as he came, cursing and struggling. “Owain! Owain, let go, you insolent son of a devil …”
Ignoring the pain as best he could, Merlin stood and hobbled outside, where he could hear better and maybe see a little.
“Eat dirt for your meal,” Merlin’s father yelled.
Mórganthu crashed to the ground and shouted as Owain kicked him.
Merlin was in awe. Nearly every day his father’s simmering anger boiled over, but this kind of rage was unusual. To get away from the quarrel, Merlin backed up until his feet hit one of the cabbages at the edge of the garden.
Merlin’s father pushed a sobbing Mônda back into the house, where her weeping was muffled.
“Get up, druid.”
Mórganthu unbent himself and stood.
“Never enter my house again,” Owain said. “Never step on my land. You lost your welcome ten years ago, so stay out!”
Mórganthu’s hand struck quickly toward the low thatch of the roof and seized what appeared to be an unwary red squirrel. It chattered frantically but could not escape. With a deliberate motion, Mórganthu drew a knife that flashed golden in the sunlight. “Heed. Take heed, Owain An Gof. If you ever lay hands on me or my kin in the future … I promise to slit you like a rodent!”
He held up the squirrel, which squealed as he plunged in the knife. Mórganthu flung the carcass away. With a sickening sound, it landed next to Merlin, and its red blood spilled and seeped into the garden.
And that was when Merlin remembered where he had heard the man’s voice. It had been in the woods with Garth. These two were the men who had been carrying that strange, dark object that burned with a blue fire.
CHAPTER 6
FEVERED VISIONS
Dybris arrived after the noon meal and brought a healing ointment of thyme for Merlin’s back.
Merlin’s father harrumphed. “Will it push the bellows for me too? I’ve lost my helper, yet I’m expected to fix Tregeagle’s wagon along with all my other work.”
Dybris considered this. “I could seek permission from Prontwon to take his place. Merlin’s healing shouldn’t take much more than a week.”
Owain banged his hammer on the anvil, loudly. “Nah. I don’t want any jabberin’ monk slowing me down. Best for me to handle the bellows —”
“Blowing hot air seems to be your specialty of late.”
Merlin hoped his father wouldn’t throw the monk out before the ointment was applied. Thankfully he merely banged the iron more loudly on the anvil. Merlin slid off his tunic so Dybris could rub the healing salve into the wounds. It stung badly, and he had to stop Dybris three times because of the pain.
After the monk left, Merlin’s father pulled up a stool, leaned close, and said in a low voice, “I’ve been thinking …”
Merlin wanted to sit up, but the burning ointment kept him in place.
His father groaned. “How do I say this? … The truth is that I don’t want you to go to chapel anymore.”
“What?” Surely Merlin had misheard.
“No more chapel. These monks are causing too much trouble.”
“Look, Dybris didn’t mean to get you angry —”
“That’s not it.”
“Then what? Did Mônda tell you to say that?” Merlin hit the wall with his fist, but agony from the welt on his shoulder made him regret it. “She never wants me to go to chapel. Just last week she tried to kick me —”
“Leave your mother out of this.”
Merlin wanted to roll his eyes. “She’s not my mother. Why don’t you ever talk about my real mother?”
“Why do you keep asking, eh?” His father slid his shining armband farther up.
Merlin scowled. Mônda gave the armband to his father when they were wed, shortly after