The Shapeshifter's Lair

by Peter Tremayne

  ‘The attacker was moving. I could hear him. My thought was only of protecting us from further attack,’ he replied. ‘It appears that we are walking too often into the same type of ambush.’

  Teimel replied curtly: ‘I will check the area and make sure there are no others waiting in ambush. It is best that you stay on guard here.’

  As he disappeared, Enda looked grimly after him as if displeased, then gazed thoughtfully at the cob.

  ‘I think we must start immediately for this place Dún Árd in case the assailants are still about. Eadulf’s horse needs treatment as soon as possible.’

  ‘We will go as soon as Teimel returns,’ Fidelma said.

  They did not have to wait long.

  ‘There are no signs of the attacker at all,’ he reported.

  ‘I didn’t hear the sound of a horse,’ Enda commented.

  ‘Neither did I,’ admitted the hunter. ‘But I am sure they have gone.’

  ‘I saw some signs of horses where they must have lain in wait for us,’ Enda said, ‘but I could find no tracks of any horse or of them departing on foot. That was curious. It is as if they have mysteriously vanished.’

  Eadulf sighed, rubbing the back of his head. ‘Well, I hope we are not back in the realm of shapeshifters again.’

  Enda smiled tightly. ‘Not so much a person who can shift their shape by supernatural means but a simple skilled woodsman who knows how to adapt to his environment and fade away without a trace. That’s even worse than a supernatural shapeshifter.’

  Fidelma had been looking around and suddenly she darted into some undergrowth, reappearing a few seconds later clutching an arrow.

  ‘This is the second arrow they loosed,’ she said to Eadulf. ‘You should be grateful to your poor cob for throwing you backwards and saving your life.’

  ‘Speaking of which, we need to get the animal attended to,’ pointed out Enda.

  Fidelma examined the arrow carefully.

  ‘Anything of interest?’ queried Eadulf.

  ‘Nothing we do not know already. The only thing of interest is that all these arrows seem to be made by the same fletcher, and are designed for a left-handed bowman … or woman. The same brass heads, the same feathers and colouring.’

  ‘The poor horse needs attention,’ Enda reminded her again.

  She stowed the arrow into her marsupium and mounted her pony. Teimel, taking the leading rein of Eadulf’s cob, announced that he would go in front as he knew the route. Fidelma came next and behind came Enda, who reached down to help Eadulf swing up behind him. They were cautious now to keep their eyes focused for any signs of danger. Fortunately, the track gave way to a more open area.

  As they crossed the shoulder of the hill they became aware of smoke rising in the distance and the banging of a hammer, metal against metal. A group of buildings appeared as they came to the rise and looked down at a circular structure that looked like an old hillfort. There were several buildings and many for storage, plus a number of kilns and what appeared forges. A stream rose from the hill behind and ran down through this group of buildings. A glance showed it was obviously more complex than the usual smith’s forge.

  At what seemed to be an entrance to the complex, a muscular man was standing, wielding a hammer. His leather apron covered a bare weather-bronzed torso. He looked up with a frown of curiosity, his deep-set brown eyes flickering from one to another as they approached, before alighting on the cob with the blood oozing from the arrow still in its flank. He put down his hammer and came to greet them.

  He opened with an obvious comment. ‘Your horse is injured.’

  ‘Do you have a horse doctor here?’ Fidelma asked. ‘The arrow needs to be taken out gently in case it is in the muscle or some part where the animal will bleed to death.’

  The smith sniffed disdainfully. ‘I am doctor to the horses hereabouts. I am the blacksmith in charge of the stables. Who did this to the animal?’

  ‘We were ambushed on our way here,’ Fidelma explained.

  The smith seemed surprised. ‘Near here?’ Then he turned to examine the animal without waiting for an answer.

  They all dismounted and stood around watching the smith with fascination as, speaking in soft tones to the animal, he started to press here and there around the wooden shaft of the arrow. Then, to everyone’s surprise, he bent forward and gave a swift tug, bringing the arrow out in one piece. Rather than reaching for a piece of cloth to stanch the blood that began flowing, he turned to the nearby stream and tore up tufts of a grey-green lichen that grew on the rocks beside the waters. These he immediately pressed against the wound.

  ‘This will suffice until I dress the wound properly. You are lucky,’ he added. ‘The arrow went in only a short way and it does not appear to have entered the muscle, for the beast would not have made it thus far had it done so. However, it needs to rest awhile. I can offer to stable it for that time as well as keeping a careful eye on its progress. However, as is the rule here, I think you should report the matter of your attack to our chieftain.’

  ‘I presume your chieftain is Garrchú and this is Dún Árd?’ Fidelma asked.

  ‘He is and it is so,’ smiled the man.

  ‘Then he is the man we have come to see. Where will we find him?’

  ‘This is he coming down to greet you now.’ The smith nodded at a figure moving through the kilns towards them.

  Garrchú was a lean man with a mass of greying hair, which was so unruly that it was difficult to tell where his hair stopped and his beard began. It disguised his features so that it was not until one looked closer that one realised that they were sharp and bony. He had a lupine quality. The brows came together above a long sharp nose; the eyes were very dark. There was a flash of yellowing teeth but it was hard to see whether the man was smiling or his jaw was set in this expression. Above all, the impression was of white skin that had never seen daylight.

  He listened carefully and respectfully as Fidelma introduced her party and examined the wand of office from the lord of The Cuala that she presented him with.

  ‘So how can I help you?’ he finally asked.

  ‘Firstly, do you have room to stable all our horses? We would not depart without knowing that the cob is out of danger and on its way to healing.’

  ‘I have stables enough for your mounts. You are welcome to my hospitality.’ He motioned to the smith, who immediately took charge of their horses. Without a pause, or so it seemed, Garrchú then turned and issued orders for someone to take their bags and prepare guests rooms for the night and hot water for bathing before the traditional evening meal. Then he gave them all an encompassing smile and waved them to precede him towards the main building.

  ‘This evening you will share my poor fare and I will answer all your questions as my lord Dicuil Dóna has instructed. But first a drink as the symbol of hospitality while we wait for the water to be heated for your baths.’

  ‘We are most grateful,’ began Fidelma, but he made a motion with his hand to dismiss her thanks.

  ‘There is no need for thanks, lady,’ he replied in mild rebuke. ‘Hospitality is a tradition that we strictly adhere to.’

  ‘Then we thank you for that.’

  ‘Do you have any idea of why you should be attacked?’ Garrchú was genuinely concerned.

  ‘I can only think it was something to do with the matter that has brought us here from Dicuil Dóna,’ Fidelma replied.

  ‘Then perhaps we had better reserve that explanation until after we have washed and rested,’ suggested Teimel unexpectedly.

  Garrchú had been looking at Teimel with curiosity. ‘I seem to know your features.’

  ‘This is true,’ returned the hunter. ‘I am Teimel, once a member of the lord of The Cuala’s bodyguard. I am now merely a hunter in these hills.’

  ‘So?’ was all the response Garrchú gave.

  It was sometime later when, having washed and rested, they were brought into Garrchú’s feasting hall and seated before traditio
nal dishes of roast wild boar and other meats that lacked the variety for most people’s palates but seemed traditional in tough mining communities such this. Even the attending womenfolk, like the buxom wife of Garrchú, ate as much meat at the meal as would have satisfied Fidelma for a week. Ale and mead were consumed in large quantities but there was no wine, for imported wine was reserved only for nobles. The company’s manners were certainly coarse, as was their language, but it was not offensive, for laughter and good spirits seemed to be essential to Garrchú’s table etiquette. Teimel now and then glanced nervously at Fidelma, Eadulf and Enda, which she ascribed to a concern at the cultural differences.

  Garrchú was certainly the garrulous host and regaled his guests with some mining stories. He knew much about the metals that could be extracted from the mountains. He talked seriously with Fidelma about how to heat metals and how to judge those colours to which the metals would turn in the fire to indicate the moments they could be mixed. For example, when tin and copper could be mixed into bronze and become liquid enough to pour into the moulds; or how to use liquid copper and zinc with mixtures from lead or iron to create brass. By the time he was talking about smelting steel, Fidelma found herself longing for a bed to go to sleep.

  ‘We did have some questions to ask relating to our mission from the lord of The Cuala,’ she finally said, trying to bring the conversation back to the point she was really interested in.

  Garrchú shrugged eloquently. ‘Ask any question you like and if it is my knowledge I will answer freely. As we deal with a matter from Dicuil Dóna, would you wish my women and attendants to retire so that the exchange may be private?’

  Fidelma shook her head. ‘It won’t be necessary. There is nothing about my business that they cannot learn from elsewhere. Dicuil Dóna told me that two small wooden boxes containing metal ore were escorted here by the Brehon Rónchú recently.’

  ‘So they were. Thieves had tried to smuggle them to the coast. They were pieces of ore, some of which I was asked to have smelted and assessed. They had been found on a boat on the river at Láithreach. This was a few weeks ago.’

  ‘What did you discover?’

  ‘I made my report to Brehon Rónchú and also to my lord’s steward, young Scáth, to confirm matters. He took the report to his father. I ventured that the gold ore was of a better quality than I have usually seen from my lord’s mines. It was from a mine I did not know.’

  ‘A better quality? Was it that which made you deduce they came from an unknown mine?’

  ‘The gold was not of great quality but it was fine if purified under heat in the crucible.’

  ‘Do you agree with Dicuíl Dóna that it is likely to have been stolen from his mines and, if not from a working mine, then from a secret mine in his territory? You say you deduced it came from an unknown mine.’

  Garrchú sat back and rubbed the back of his head thoughtfully. ‘I know metals and I know the qualities in the mines here. I will show you tomorrow. I can best demonstrate at the forge nearby.’

  ‘But in the meantime you can say that the ore came from this area – I mean from The Cuala? Can you say that the ore that Brehon Rónchú recovered was dug out of the mines in these mountains?’

  ‘That is a little too specific to say if I am taking an oath on it,’ replied the chief of Dicuil Dóna’s mines after a moment.

  ‘In what way?’ demanded Fidelma.

  ‘I can say that it is the type of ore found in these mountains. But it can also be found in other areas outside of these peaks. However, given that the thieves, according to Brehon Rónchú, had loaded the ore into a river boat at Láithreach, and had travelled there through the valley of Glasán, it would be a good assumption that it was dug in this area.’

  ‘That is a fair enough response,’ Fidelma agreed. ‘If that were so, would you agree that the ore was stolen from Dicuil Dóna’s mines?’

  ‘If the metal were dug from here, then I think it is more likely than less.’

  ‘But you could not say whether it was from a working mine?’

  ‘No one could be so precise, though, as I said, I spotted a greater purity in the gold than I had previously seen.’

  ‘Are there many working mines here? I mean those mines extracting gold and silver ore. I appreciate many other metals are taken from this area.’

  ‘Not many producing any quantity of gold or, indeed, silver ore. These are the rarest of metals. In search of gold we have even tried to extract it from the rivers, for little grains of gold can be found in the sediment of the river beds. We still use the ancient method of gathering sand from the beds of the streams. Then we use the fleece of a sheep stretched out and propel the sand through the fleece and this traps the tiny but heavy grains of gold in the wool. The fleece is hung up and dried before it is beaten, but beaten so gently that the gold falls off and is recovered. Often a substantial amount is recovered in this way and placed in a crucible and smelted into a block ready to be sent to the artisan.’

  Eadulf heaved a bored sigh. ‘This does not help us much.’

  ‘In what way do you need help?’ Garrchú queried, slightly annoyed his knowledge did not seem to impress Eadulf. ‘At least we can be fairly certain that the ore comes from this area.’

  ‘And that is a help?’ Eadulf asked, trying to mute his sarcasm.

  ‘It is of help to the extent that we may not be wandering these mountains indefinitely,’ Fidelma corrected him disapprovingly. ‘We can be fairly sure it comes from these mountains.’ She turned back to Garrchú. ‘I understand Brehon Rónchú personally accompanied these boxes?’

  ‘He did,’ replied Garrchú. ‘It was his legal obligation do so. He seized them from those he considered to be thieves. I can show you the metal, as I still have it stored here until he has determined ownership.’

  ‘No need to show it. But when Brehon Rónchú left you, where did he go? We could not find him in Láithreach.’

  Garrchú was clearly puzzled. ‘I presumed that he had returned to Láithreach as he said he must make further enquiries about the thieves.’

  ‘He was travelling on horseback?’

  ‘It is long and arduous to travel through these peaks and valleys by any other means,’ Garrchú said, slightly sarcastically. ‘He was riding a horse. Why do you ask?’

  ‘He could not have brought the boxes of ore here on his horse?’ she pressed.

  Garrchú smiled thinly. ‘He was riding a horse. The ore was in a small wagon that he had hired from a local wagon driver from Láithreach. The man who drove the wagon left as soon as he had unloaded the boxes. So the Brehon Rónchú returned alone by horse. You said that you were attacked on your way here,’ Garrchú said thoughtfully. ‘Do you think it has something to do with this? It may mean that the Brehon did not reach Láithreach. Do you think the thieves and brigands that Dicuil Dóna fears are still nearby here?’

  ‘There is much that is guesswork, and none of us has seen the attackers so we cannot say who they are.’

  ‘You did not recognise any of your attackers and have no clue other than the arrow?’ Garrchú shook his head. ‘Well, that sort of arrow is common here. This is very worrying,’ Garrchú looked concerned. ‘You see, if they are brigands and are near here, they will learn whatever gold and silver ore is dug from these hills is brought here. Here it is separated from the other metal ores – tin, zinc, copper, lead and iron. I have the only forges where metals can be refined or smelted.’

  ‘Your forges are particularly concerned with silver and gold ore?’ Eadulf asked.

  ‘Those workers I employ here specialise in smelting these metals and these are rare metals so have to be carefully treated. In fact, this very place developed from the site of a silver mine.’

  Fidelma was suddenly thoughtful. ‘Not far away from here there is a valley leading up to a peak called …’ She turned to Teimel. ‘I forget the name you called it. It was where we saw Corbmac on our way here.’

  Teimel frowned. ‘I can’t remember exac
tly …’

  ‘I think you called it Lúbán,’ Eadulf supplied.

  ‘That was it,’ the hunter agreed apologetically. ‘It slipped my mind.’

  ‘Are there mine workings in that area?’ Fidelma asked.

  Garrchú thought for a moment and then shook his head decisively. ‘I can’t recall any that have recently been exploited. But many years ago, I think there were some attempts at mining in that valley. There are no workings there now. Certainly I have never heard of anyone extracting ore from that area recently.’ Then he frowned. ‘What was Corbmac doing there? Surely not searching for thieves?’

  ‘Who knows?’ Fidelma smiled dismissively ‘He was riding towards the area.’

  ‘Maybe they were not heading in that direction at all,’ Teimel pointed out. ‘There are plenty of other paths leading from the one where we saw them.’

  ‘But it is inaccessible so far as tracks and paths are concerned,’ Garrchú said. ‘You have a river rising on the slopes of that peak, which comes down into the valley of the Uí Máil, otherwise there is little else there now; just some ruins.’

  ‘You seemed surprised when we mentioned that Corbmac was seen riding in that direction,’ Fidelma observed.

  ‘It leads into little inaccessible valleys, with no tracks and not even a farmstead or shepherd’s hut for vast distances. I find it strange that he would be riding into such isolated territory. He was never a one for isolation, but known for his liking for feasting and dancing and attending taverns.’

  Fidelma shook her head quickly at Eadulf as she realised he was about to mention that the warrior was accompanied by young Aróc.

  ‘And you know that area well, I suppose?’

  ‘I have not been along there since I was young. There used to be an old ruined farmstead on a hill in the valley beyond Lúbán. But I would say no one has lived there since the days of Conaire the Great.’

  ‘That’s seven centuries ago, according to the bards,’ Enda made one of his rare intercessions.