As Aine had expected, Eoghan summoned Murchadh before the Conclave as soon as he heard what the old healer had told her. The man halted before the nine men and Aine, his wrinkled skin turning the color of faded, bleached linen.

“Thank you for coming, Brother Murchadh.” With a warm smile, Eoghan gestured to an empty seat. Murchadh cast an uneasy glance around the table before settling into it. “We’ve called you here because —”

“You want to know about the runes.”

Aine exchanged a glance with Eoghan. They’d thought they would to have to pull the information from him bit by bit. She’d never expected him to come right out and acknowledge it.

“Aye. We want to know about the runes.”

The healer heaved a sigh and dropped his chin forward to his chest, his hands clasped in his lap. For several moments, Aine thought he wouldn’t answer or perhaps he had fallen asleep. When he raised his head, he wore a look of resignation. But instead of addressing Eoghan, he looked to Aine. “Ask your questions, my lady. I will answer you truly.”

Aine considered her questions carefully before speaking. “Were you a druid before you came to Ard Dhaimhin?”

Surprise flared in the healer’s pale gold eyes, but he nodded. “Aye. I was raised from infancy at Banndara.”

“What made you leave the nemetons? What made you leave the Old Ways in favor of the brotherhood?”

Murchadh licked his lips, a tremor shooting through his body. “What do you know about the history of the druids?”

“Very little.” Aine glanced around at the Conclave members, who all looked as perplexed as she felt. “I know there are those who stay with the Old Ways —devoted to nature and the unity of all life. And I know there are those who delve into blood magic.”

“Like Niall.”

“You knew Niall?”

“I knew of Niall. You see, the druidic religion is not so far removed from the brotherhood as most believe.”

Murmurs erupted around the table. Eoghan held up a hand, and the whispers stilled. “Go on.”

“I am not saying that we believe in the same god. I’m not saying that those who serve the gods and goddesses of the Old Ways accept the truth as we know it. But our lives are similar: humility, devotion to our rites, self-sufficiency. At least that’s how the nemetons have operated since the druids were confined to them in Daimhin’s age. But just like here, just like in the kingdom, there are those who are seduced by the promise of power, who are tempted to reach into things forbidden.”

“The Red Druids,” Riordan said from the opposite end of the table.

“Aye. You see, the Red Druids understand the power of blood. This is not so far from what the Balians believe in, the power of the blood of Lord Balus. But the druids of the nemetons also understand the power of the word.”

“The power of the word,” Eoghan said. “I don’t understand. What does that mean?”

Understanding dawned within Aine. “The power of written language.”

“But the druidic magic is of the oral tradition, is it not?” Gradaigh asked.

“Aye. It is now. Because . . .” Murchadh hesitated. “The runes were given to us first.”

“That’s preposterous!” Dal thundered, jumping to his feet. “The runes were brought to Seare by King Daimhin.”

Eoghan stared at Dal and gave him a barely perceptible shake of his head. The older man visibly drew his composure around himself and sat down in a huff.

“That’s not entirely true,” Eoghan said quietly. “Lady Aine has recently found some writings that implied King Daimhin and Queen Shanna rediscovered them —with the help of the druids.”

“Have you never wondered why the magic of the isle predates the coming of Lord Balus?” Murchadh asked. “Why some of the wards seemed so old? Why the druids’ influence was so feared?”

“Speak plainly,” Dal said. But now his tone was far more frightened than angry.

“Very well. But I warn you, you may not like what I tell you.”

Murchadh looked at every single one of them in turn, his gaze lingering on Aine. “The meanings of the runes were given to a few who existed here on the isle. They were not given to our order. Our order was formed from those to whom Comdiu granted the understanding of His divine language.”

Angry voices erupted around the table, but Aine barely heard them over the whoosh of blood in her ears. Aye. It made sense, considering how the shield rune on Morrigan’s body had blocked her power. The only thing that could overcome the gifts of Balus would have to be other gifts of Comdiu. That would explain how the shield rune had also warded off the dark spirits of the isle. “They were given to the druids to bind the sidhe, to stop their power. But the sidhe corrupted your order.”

Murchadh’s shoulders slumped, this time with relief. “There were still those who had the clarity of mind and purpose to put them to their intended use. With the runes, they bound the sidhe to a sort of half realm, to the forests surrounding the nemetons. And then they scattered the runes across the land. They recognized that even though it was too much power to be contained in the hands of one man or group of men, there still might be need of it later.”

“I don’t understand. Scattered how?”

“They etched them on the standing stones, spread across the whole of Seare. The secret was to die with those who knew, all but a select few. When the bindings faded and the sidhe were loosed, it was those druids who worked with Daimhin to reclaim them.”

“Why did the bindings fade in the first place?” Eoghan asked, his expression intent.

“I don’t know. That’s not something I was ever told.”

“Go on,” Eoghan said. “Why has no one revealed this until now?”

“It is our greatest secret. Those who still belong to the order would bear the secret to their deaths. The tattoos we take are a reminder of our responsibility as guardians of those runes, even if most of us no longer possess the ability to read them ourselves.”

Murchadh drew down his tunic to reveal the spiral of faded black ink on his chest. “Only by the grace of Comdiu did I reject the teachings of my order and turn to Lord Balus.”

“What I don’t understand is why you reacted so violently to the rune,” Aine said. “From what I understand, it was not the runes themselves that you found to be evil but rather the fact that men were corrupted by their thirst for power.”

“Good men,” Murchadh said softly. “Ones who believed, at one time, in the only True God. And the thirst for power slowly twisted them, made them susceptible to the sidhe’s lies. If we, the ones chosen to bear that power, were corrupted by it, what makes you think you’re any different?”

Silence fell around the table. Aine had to concentrate on drawing her breath evenly in and out of her lungs. “If Comdiu erased the understanding of the runes from human knowledge, why would He allow some of us to read them again? Are you saying that He made a mistake in giving that power to man the first time? Are you saying He’s making a mistake again?”

“I am not qualified to judge the wisdom of Comdiu,” Murchadh said. “I only tell you what I know of the druidic tradition and how we came to be what we are now. And I offer a warning: using the runes for your own ends, being too dependent on them, may be your downfall, just as it was ours.”

Aine nodded slowly. “Thank you for sharing your knowledge with us, Brother Murchadh.”

The healer rose and gave them a little bow. Just before Murchadh reached the door, Eoghan stood and called after him, “Brother? You referred to the druidic order as ‘we.’ Do you still consider yourself one of them even now that you’ve accepted the salvation that Lord Balus offers?”

Murchadh thought for a long moment. “Do you still consider yourself a brother of Ard Dhaimhin even though you may someday be king?” With that cryptic question, the healer turned and slipped out the door, leaving stunned silence in his wake.

Aine’s mind whirred, trying to organize all the bits of information he had given them with what she already knew. Shanna had said the language had been scattered. That was most surely the runic language that had been distributed across the standing stones of Seare, those old places of worship that predated the coming of Balianism. Shanna and Daimhin had likely collected them and compiled them in one place for their use. But where? The Hall of Prophecies held no such volume.

She looked up to find Eoghan watching her, a peculiar look of curiosity on his face. When she averted her eyes from his, they landed on a point behind his shoulder. The Rune Throne.

She broke into laughter, aware it was tinged with a bit of hysteria. Of course. It was so obvious that they’d continually overlooked it. She clamped her hands over her pregnant belly as stitches stabbed into her sides and she tried to catch her breath. “Truly, we are among the most foolish of people, or it has powers of concealment that we never dreamed of.”

All attention landed on her, some faces betraying worry, others outright bewilderment.

“The Rune Throne. It’s the key. It’s the object that contains all the runic knowledge of the kingdom, and it’s been right under our noses. It has to have some sort of concealment for us to have continually overlooked it. An added layer of protection in case Ard Dhaimhin was ever sacked.”

Full understanding hit her like an avalanche. The look on Eoghan’s face said he’d made the connection at the same time she did.

“The boy,” he said.

“Aye,” Aine said. “Not standing on stone. The standing stones.”

“Once Niall failed to take Ard Dhaimhin, he decided to compile his own key.”

Riordan looked between them, his brow furrowed. “I don’t understand. What does this have to do with his taking of the fortresses?”

“Old Balian fortresses,” Eoghan explained. “Some of them used the old standing stones as foundations or cornerstones. There are only a few intact circles left out of the hundreds that were once scattered across the country. Most of the original stones are now inside, part of, or beneath the oldest structures in Seare.”

“Which have the weakest defenses,” Aine murmured. “Convenient.”

“Not so convenient,” Riordan said. “No one really knows where all the stones are, where they were used, or how many existed. He’s taken two fortresses this month, but it could take him years to locate them all.”

“Then we have time to stop him,” Eoghan said.

“How?” Dal asked.

But Eoghan had no answer for that. As they exchanged glances around the table, Aine’s exhilaration at having solved the puzzle gave way to a heavy dread. They might know the druid’s plans, but without a way to fight him on his own territory, they were no closer to stopping him than they were before.