Page 69 of Broken Veil
Duncan shook his head. “Don’t know why, but sometimes Angus will throw out things like ‘birds can’t be trusted’ or the like, so it’s possible the fae watch him and he’s wary of them.”
“The fae wouldn’t watch one of their own,” Carys said. “Too nosy. Too rude.”
“So Angus isn’t fae.” Laura was whispering. “What is he?”
“That’s an excellent question.”
They walked through the forest, keeping to the stone pathway that led through the trees. They passed the forge and the small hut where Angus slept, but Carys saw no one moving, and the forge was not lit.
“Huh.” Duncan frowned. “That’s odd.”
“Should we keep walking?” There was something in Carys’s chest, some instinct drawing her deeper into the forest where no birds sang. “We should keep walking.”
She followed a narrow trail deeper into the woods where the only wild sound came from water running somewhere and an odd chorded music that sounded a bit like wind chimes.
With Duncan and Laura behind her, she reached a clearing where a waterfall tumbled over the rocks and a round pool had formed at the base.
This was no natural waterway; the pool was ringed by cut stones and cobbled rocks. The water flowed down the face of stacked slates, hitting copper bells that produced eerie, resonant notes that filled the air with their haunting song.
There was a clip-clop that sounded from behind the waterfall, and then a grey figure in a brown cloak appeared, walking through the water and tossing his hood back to reveal dark brown eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“You.” He glanced sideways at Duncan and Carys for a second before he walked to Laura and lowered his face to hers. He spoke something in her ear, and Laura’s eyes went wide.
Angus’s hooded head bobbed up and down, examining Laura from her toes to the top of her head, murmuring too low for Carys to hear.
Laura put a hand on her chest and patted it, straightening and lifting her chin as she responded in her mother tongue.
“What’s going on?” Duncan murmured.
“I don’t know.”
Angus passed a hand in front of Laura’s face, and when she turned, Carys saw her chin had been painted with the thin lines the Yurok women in the Shadowlands tattooed to mark their clan and their status.
Angus finally spoke to her. “Daughter of two worlds, you bring me another shadow-walker. Why am I not surprised by this?”
Carys knew not to answer too directly. “I don’t think you’re surprised by much, Angus.”
He kept his eyes on Laura when he spoke. “You are correct.”
Laura’s eyes were fixed on Angus. “How does he speak Yurok? Why?”
Carys had long suspected that Angus was some kind of god or demigod whose power came from the ancient messenger gods.
Mercury. Hermes. Thoth. Something even older than Thoth.
“Angus is good with languages,” Duncan said. “And he usually speaks to you in whatever language you speak.”
“For now I’ll keep to Anglian, since that is the common” —Angus spat out the word— “tongue.” He strode toward Carys with his loping gait. “Do you have a gift for me, Epona’s daughter?”
She held out the clay pitcher of milk. “A gift from Daisy.”
“And did you ask the cow for her offering?”
She’d thought it was a little odd at first, but she’d figured that it was Duncan’s superstition, not Angus’s. “I did.”
“Good.” He took the pitcher, lifted it to his lips, and drank deeply. “She’s a good cow.”
Then, without a word of warning, Angus put his hand on Carys’s chest and shoved her backward, into the pool.
