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time before? The creature must have gone away, then returned for some reason. That’s if it really is the same one—it would have to be rather long-lived, if it’s been around since the time of your forebears. How was it driven out?”
    â€œAh.” Lady Geiléis looks down at her hands. “There are no clear answers on that point. It does seem that if anything is to be done, it must be done on Midsummer Eve. On that day, the thorns that bar entry to the tower are said to yield somewhat; a brave soul armed with a sharp ax might force a way in.”
    Really is like one of those old tales, a good one. Or would be good if it was only a story, not real.
Can
it be real? “Tried to get through, have you?” I say. Seems fair enough to ask, seeing as she’s said this thing was there last summer too.
    â€œI set foot on the island, last Midsummer Eve,” the lady says. “I attempted to slash a way through the thorns, though I did not know what might lie within the tower. The rumors, such as they are, tell us nothing about what a quester might encounter there, or what that person should do on encountering the creature. I knew only that I must bring an end to the terror and confusion brought by the tower’s strange tenant. But I fell short of achieving that. For a certain distance the thorns did indeed give way to my blade. But before I had gone far, the thing in the tower began an eldritch moaning, perhaps a kind of singing, and the branches began to snap back around me. Had I not retreated speedily I would have been trapped within the thicket of thorns; I would have perished there like a fly caught in a spider’s web. Ihad brought two guards with me, but neither could make any impact on the fearsome barrier; they tried ax, hatchet and knife to no avail. Mine was the only blade that could cut the stems. And as I said, that success was short-lived.”
    There’s a silence; then Blackthorn says, “Forgive me, Lady Geiléis, but attempting such a feat on your own seems . . .”
Crazy.
That’s the word she wants. But she says, “It seems misguided. Why didn’t you send in your men-at-arms? What were you planning to do, fight the creature to the death on your own?”
    I’m thinking the same thing. Fact is, though Lady Geiléis is tall for a woman, and well built, she’s hardly a warrior. Monster would likely snap her in half before she got two steps inside the tower.
    â€œI thought . . .” The lady’s struggling for words now. “I believed that once I saw the thing face-to-face I would know what to do. Kill it, yes, I was prepared to do that. Or drive it out.”
    â€œAll by yourself,” says Blackthorn.
    Lady Geiléis bows her head. “I was desperate, Mistress Blackthorn. I would do the same thing again, if only I could make a way into the tower. To silence that voice, to rid my lands of the curse, I would do almost anything.”
    â€œMistress Blackthorn’s right,” says Donagan. “It would make more sense to send in a warrior. Or several.”
    â€œI had two armed men with me when I attempted to hack a way through; I told you. Neither of them made any progress, and both were hurt trying to save me from the thorns. Perhaps that should tell us something. I wish I knew what.”
    â€œThat it’s a job for a woman?” suggests Blackthorn.
    Lady Geiléis gives her a look. “It is suggested in the old fragments of story that only a woman can prevail against this creature. It seems I am not that woman.”
    Not liking the sound of this at all. Wish the prince would tell the lady to fix her own problems and leave the rest of us out of it. WishBlackthorn hadn’t said what she’s just said. I can see where this is going, plain as plain. So although I don’t want to, I speak up again. “This sort of thing’s trouble,” I say. “And not the kind of