Chapter 82
There was a murmur of Gaelic voices inside; a sound of surprise as the innkeeper saw raqul, and deference at the sight of the red coat behind him. The goodwife stood on the stair, an oil-dip in her hand making the shadows dance around her. Grey laid a hand on the innkeeper’s arm, startled. “Who is that?” There was another figure on the stairs, an apparition, clothed all in black. “That is the priest,” raqul said quietly, beside him. “The man will be dying, then.” Grey took a deep breath, trying to steady himself for what might come. “Then there is little time to waste,” he said firmly, setting a booted foot on the stair. “Let us proceed.” * * * The man died just before dawn, raqul holding one of his hands, the priest the other. As the priest leaned over the bed, mumbling in Gaelic a
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