He and Kitch offered a bow, then his friend shuffled around to Wickham’s other side so they both could keep their backs to all three of them.

The Grandfather stomped his cane. “So, what is it? This devastating news ye bring with ye? From…the future, I reckon?”

The women quieted in order to listen, which bothered their husband, whose scowl sent them scurrying back inside.

“Will ye sit?” The old man pointed to a pair of tree stumps, and a moment later, Wickham sat face to face with his enemy once again. Kitch remained standing and watchful, twenty feet away, where he could see in all directions.

Flann and Brian had debated about how much information Wickham could safely share, so the Grandfather would believe value flowed both ways, that he was learning as much as he was revealing. The opening gambit had been rehearsed, practiced, time and again. But Wickham knew that when he finally saw the bastard again, he might falter.

He closed his eyes and pretended it was Brian sitting before him and said simply, “The Covenant has been broken.” He looked quickly, to catch the other man’s reaction, fully expecting him to keep a straight face, to pretend he’d seen it coming—like he used to do.

But the manhadn’tknown and was too shocked to pretend otherwise. His head shook so hard it nearly took him off his bench. “Nay. Never.”

“Auch, aye. Believe it.”

The man’s whole body swayed back and forth, opposite the movement of his head. “I would never allow it! Shall never allow it,” he hissed, and got to his feet, ready to do war with Wickham if he thought it might keep it from being true.

“I was there when it was done,” Wickham confessed. “Though I didnae ken what the consequences would be. I had no ken of The Covenant…or any of it…then.”

TheSeanairgroped behind him, lowered himself back to his seat. Sweat beaded on his brow and he turned his head, to stare at the owl’s remains for a long time, lost in thought. Wickham didn’t know whether to push him, to use the shock as a distraction, or to let the man recover, to realize the peril, and to decide to help. Wickham chose the latter.

Finally, the man brought his attention back. He inhaled deeply, bracing himself. “When does this impossibility occur?”

Wickham shook his head. They’d all agreed the year, the decade, even the century couldn’t be revealed, or the old man might manipulate something he oughtn’t.

“All right. Ye’ll not say the when. Can ye tell me how long? For ye, how long has it been, since…it happened?”

“Six years.”

Again, the man shook his head, bounced in his seat, and nearly toppled. “Six years! Are ye mad?”

Wickham shrugged. “How were we to ken how precious time would become?”

“Tell me what ye’ve learned.”

“I cannot. I cannot say anything that might change my past and yer future.”

The old man scoffed. “Dinnae be daft, lad. If the future has been lived, there is no changing it.”

“We cannae know that.”

The man mumbled to himself.

Wickham pointed at the fellow’s mouth. “Whatever ye said, there, might be of help. Don’t ye reckon?”

The old eyes rolled. “I said, Moira saw as much. We thought…” He pulled his lips between his teeth, believing he’d given something away.

“Aye, auld man. I ken ye’re the original Grandfather, and that ye’ll remain so. The fact that ye kenned Moira doesnae surprise me now.”

The answering smile made Wickham realize it was he who had just given away more than he intended. But he hid his frustration…for the time being.

“And after we meet, son? What happens after we meet?”

It was never going to work. He was never going to get the old man to open up unless he knew the truth. He wouldn’t respect Wickham enough unless he knew…

Wickham stood and willed the White One to reveal himself. He hadn’t seen so much as a wisp since the day he’d taken the Grandfather’s head. But he needed it to bend to his will now.

The old fellow scowled, waiting for his answer. He folded his arms across his chest and suddenly found Wickham’s expression amusing. Then something on the ground caught his eye and the smirk disappeared.