Diarmuid would have loved nothing more than to continue peppering Sir Ollie with questions. Or, failing that, to sit in his room for the next several days, praying for guidance while he worked through the revelations heâd been buffeted by since Dame Sybyllâs attack on Hanrahan Town.
But the setting sun heralded the most important event yet, a gathering of the leadership of the Vale of Mists along with their most notable âguests.â As much as Diarmuid might want to hole up in his chambers until he could restore his sense of internal equilibrium, however, he knew that tonightâs dinner wasnât one he could afford to miss.
"Itâs fine to be a bit overwhelmed," Ollie said as he guided the Inquisitor deep into the tunnels where the ancient fortress burrowed into the face of the cliff behind the original structure to create chambers that had never seen the light of day, and never would.
"It took me at least a week to get used to living here, and I had Lady Ashlynn and Sir Thane guiding me almost every day," Ollie said in an attempt to reassure the older man, who looked so lost in thought that Ollie had to stop him from missing a turn more than once.
"I take back what I said earlier, when I said that you were an impressive man, Sir Ollie," Diarmuid said, stopping in the middle of the dark tunnel to look into Ollieâs pale gaze. The flickering lamplight cast inky, dancing shadows across the young manâs face that made him appear older than he was, and a touch mysterious where the darkness seemed to cling to him, but his eyes were as clear as winter pools.
"You are very likely the most impressive person I have ever met," Diarmuid said honestly as he tried to imagine what it must have been like for someone like Ollie, who grew up in the servantâs quarters of Lothian Manor, to be thrust into the sort of life he found himself caught up in.
Perhaps one day, there would be sagas written about him, and young boys growing up waving sticks like swords as they pretended to be âSir Ollieâ, but right now, the young knight himself seemed blissfully unaware of how extraordinary his journey truly was.
"Thatâs only because youâve barely met Lady Ashlynn," Ollie replied with a light chuckle. "Or Lady Nyrielle, or Hauke," he added as he considered the dangerous journey that had led the youngest member of their coven here.
"Iâm not saying that out of a false sense of humility," Ollie added when he saw Diarmuidâs disapproving look. "At dinner tonight, youâll meet several impressive people with stories just as impressive as mine. Lady Heila was a maid before she became Lady Ashlynnâs lady-in-waiting and the Willow Witch. Hauke risked his life to learn the ancient sorcery of his ancestors, just for the chance to help his people preserve their homes."
"Lady Ashlynn and Lady Nyrielle find amazing people in unexpected places," Ollie said as he opened the door to a well-lit and exquisitely decorated formal dining room. "I just think Iâm lucky to be one of them."
"Itâs more than luck, Ollie," a clear, crisp, feminine voice said from within the dining room as Ollie entered. "Lady Ashlynn might have given you an opportunity, but youâre the one who did the hard work of realizing it."
"Isabell," Ollie said warmly as he greeted the newest member of Ashlynnâs coven. "I thought we would be the first ones here."
"I canât stand being late," Isabell said simply as she crossed the room to give the young knight a welcoming embrace. "Besides, being early helps to calm my nerves. I know Iâm among friends here, but Iâm unaccustomed to having such impressive friends."
"I would have thought youâd be used to it after your tenure in the Emerald Kingâs court," Diarmuid said, smiling as he extended a hand to greet the silver-haired engineer. "Youâre looking well since the last time we met, Master Isabell."
Diarmuidâs words were polite and could have been dismissed as a simple social nicety between two people who were only barely acquainted, but in this case, Diarmuid really meant the words he said.
When he had last met her in Blackwell City, while he had been investigating Lady Ashlynnâs past for evidence that she was practicing witchcraft before she married Lord Owain, Master Isabell had resembled many women her age, with hair that had gone gray a little earlier than some and a face that sported noticeable lines at the corners of her eyes and lips.
She was the distinguished Master Engineer of Blackwell Countyâs Illustrious Corps of Engineers, and the gray eyes behind her silver-rimmed spectacles reflected the decades of experience that had earned her a position as one of Blackwell Countyâs most influential Guild Masters.
"Or, is it âLady Isabellâ since youâve joined Lady Ashlynnâs coven?" Diarmuid asked politely, silently pleased with himself that he hadnât stumbled over mentioning her transformation from ordinary merchant to powerful witch.
The woman standing before him now could have been the younger sister of the woman heâd met in Blackwell. Her face was fresh and youthful, and her hair had gone from dull gray to bright and glossy silver. Even her eyes shone as if theyâd been polished, and there was a strength and vitality to her presence that hadnât been there when they met before.
Diarmuid hadnât noticed that Sir Ollie was a witch because the strapping young man met so many of the Inquisitorâs expectations for a young knight, from his strong, toned physique to his upright, noble bearing, that it was difficult to imagine him as anything else.
Perhaps if heâd seen Ollie before, when heâd been a stoop-shouldered, underfed, gangly youth, surviving off of scraps in the Lothian kitchens, heâd have understood that Master Isabell wasnât the only one who had been transformed in profound ways after acquiring a seed of witchcraft. But, while he had missed the signs in Sir Ollie, they were impossible to ignore when he came face to face with Isabell.
"âMaster Isabellâ is fine," Isabell said directly. "Or just Isabell among friends. Titles may come later, but the people coming to dinner tonight have so many of them, I think weâll be tripping on our tongues if we try to remember which one to use for everyone at the table. Compared to the Emerald Court, this group is..." she paused, taking a deep breath as she considered her words carefully.
"This group far more impressive than any kingâs court in the old countries could ever hope to be. Youâll see for yourself soon enough," she added with a cryptic smile.
"Youâre also looking well," Isabell continued as she clasped Diarmuidâs hand firmly while taking in his black and midnight blue outfit that had replaced the robes of an Inquisitor. "The outfit suits you. Is it just âDiarmuidâ now? Or are you still an Inquisitor even without the robes?" she asked gently.
"Iâm still filled with questions," Diarmuid said, evasively. "And Iâm still seeking truth, wherever that truth lies. As to whether or not Iâm still an Inquisitor," he added, taking a deep breath as he forced himself to confront the question directly. "I donât know."
"Inquisitor is a title the Church bestows, and if they choose, they can take it away from me," he admitted with a wry smile. "So for now, just âDiarmuidâ will do. Once Iâve found the answers Iâm searching for, if I still have a place in the Church and the Inquisition, it wonât be too late to take the title back up again..."