I fished out the rusty nail from under my pallet and scratched another mark on the wall. Tomorrow would be midsummer, not that a person could tell rain from shine in this cesspit. I’d been here a year. A whole year of filth and abuse and being shoved back down the moment I lifted myself so much as an inch. Tomorrow, at last, I’d get my chance to speak out. Tomorrow I would tell my story.

“You must have really got up Malthuin’s nose,” he said. “What did you do to make him so angry?” Perhaps knowing he wouldn’t get an answer, Slammer went right on. “Overheard a little exchange. Someone wants you out of the way before the hearing, not after.”

“Out of the way?”

“Someone wants to make sure your case never goes before the council. First thing in the morning, you’re to be disposed of. Quick, quiet, final. Name crossed off the list. No need to bother the chieftains with any of it.” He was scrutinizing me between the bars, waiting for me to weep, collapse, scream defiance.”

"I'm offering you a chance to be safely out of here before they come for you. You'd leave the district and travel north to Dalriada. There'd be help along the way, and a place to stay when you got there. After that, you'd need to earn a living doing what you did before. There's always a need for skilled healers."

"Travel north. When?"

"Straightaway."

As I made to speak again, to say I couldn't go anywhere because I had to appear at the council, Conmael gestured me to be quiet. "There are three conditions you must agree to meet before I grant you this opportunity. Firstly, the considerable skill you possess must be used only for good. You will not let bitterness or anger draw you down the darker ways of your craft. Secondly, if anyone asks for your help, you will give it willingly. I do not mean solely those who come to you for assistance with their ailments, but anyone at all who seeks your aid."

"And thirdly?" It occurred to me that I could be as good a liar as anyone. What was to stop me from agreeing now, and once I was out of here, doing whatever I pleased? I might yet live beyond dawn and see Mathuin brought down before nightfall. My heart began to race.

"Thirdly, you will not seek vengeance. You will remain in Dalriada and stay away from Mathuin of Laois."

That, I could not do. But I bit back the no that sprang to my lips. "Is there a period of time attached to this ridiculous proposition?"

Conmael gave a cool smile. "Seven years," he said. "That is the term for all three conditions."

"What?" Morrigan's curse, I'd be lucky if I managed seven days, let alone seven years! Walk away and leave Mathuin behind me, his crimes not only unpunished but not even reported? Agree to every single request for help? As for using my gifts for good, all the good had been beaten out of me long ago. My spirit was as stained and foul as my reeking, vermin-ridden body. But then, what did it matter if I was bound to his stupid plan for my whole life, provided I saw Mathuin brought to justice first?

"Mathuin has done ill deeds," Conmael said. "He's also a powerful chieftain who enjoys the support of many fellow leaders. You are a prisoner, without family, without resources, with no home to go to and no friends to help you. Even if you did stand up at the council, even if you did make these accusations before the assembled chieftains, who would take your word against Mathuin's? All you would achieve is your own destruction. So let us set a limit on the number of times you may break the rules. Five, I think."

"Or what happens?"

"Or you find yourself back here, filthy, worn down, defeated, with the executioner knocking on your door. And this time, no reprieve."