by Lynn Kurland
Perhaps when he’d stopped shaking as he thought about just how close he had come to killing not only himself, but Sarah.
Franciscus had spent the bulk of his time with both Sgath and Sìle discussing what Ruith had assumed were more pleasant topics. Ruith had joined them twice, once with Sarah, who had been appalled by the souls from legend they knew personally, and once on his own, simply to enjoy the company of men he admired. He had also spent a pair of afternoons with his grandmothers, Eulasaid and Brèagha, bringing Sarah along with him both times so she could be showered with the affection he knew would be so generously offered.
The rest of the time, he had simply walked along passageways, mostly the outer porticos, where he could listen to what flora and fauna had to say and watch Sìle’s glamour sparkle in the fresh spring air. Well, that and keep an eye on Sarah.
She wasn’t comfortable, though he couldn’t say why not. His family had made every attempt to make her feel welcome, he had refrained from kissing her nearly as much as he would have liked, and his grandmother Brèagha had set aside an entire chamber full of what even Ruith could tell were marvelous things to weave with. He supposed, looking at it from his own perspective, that she felt a little displaced. After all, their adventure had begun with her losing her home, her spinning wheel, and all her gold. That had left her with no place to return to, no way to make her way in the world, and no ability to support herself until she could make that way.
He hadn’t dared tell her he was more than able to provide for them both, even by using the more pedestrian means of selling the work of his hands. She knew that, and she knew he was more than willing to tuck his magic up in a trunk and go plant her garden by hand. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t carried on that way for years already.
“What are you doing?”
He thought he might have jumped half a foot. He turned around to find his sister’s husband standing there, watching him with a bit of a smirk.
“Thinking,” he said shortly. “What are you doing?”
“Stretching my legs and resting my ears.”
“Is Mhorghain already vexing the latter?”
“Rùnach, rather,” Miach said dryly. “I am on the verge of dropping him at Gobhann and leaving him there to weary Weger with his complaints.”
“Do if you dare,” Ruith said, “but be forewarned, I’ll be called on to rescue him. Then I’m sure he’ll want to come to Tor Neroche and tell you all about his adventures. You won’t escape his carping for long.”
Miach smiled. “He hasn’t changed.”
“Nay, he hasn’t,” Ruith agreed. He waited, but Miach seemed content to wait longer. Ruith finally sighed gustily. “What do you want?”
“You haven’t said much about your sire.”
“Nay,” Ruith agreed, “I haven’t.”
Miach waited a bit more, then laughed, apparently in spite of himself. “Very well, keep your secrets. You come tell me all the details when you’re tired of them. I’ll be interested to know if any of Uachdaran’s training served you.”
“You should be, considering that he favored me with that training no doubt to repay me for the spell you filched from his solar—”
Miach made a noise of disbelief. “Ruith, you unlocked the door.”
“And you picked the lock on the cabinet and pulled out the book.”
“And we each held on to a half of it so that the blame would be spread about evenly,” Miach said smoothly.
“Well, just so you know, His Majesty has a more exclusive spell of hiding,” Ruith said, ignoring the way Miach’s ears had already perked up. “From what I understand, what we filched was the one he leaves out for inquisitive lads who come to his hall intent on stealing things from his solar, just so they feel like they’ve made a proper visit.”
“Interesting—”
“Nay, it is not,” Ruith said firmly.
Miach considered, then smiled. “I’ll go see what Rùnach thinks. When are you getting married, by the way?”
Ruith suppressed the urge to growl at the king of Neroche. “When I can convince my lady she wants to. And nay, I don’t need any advice from you on how to go about that.”
“Just trying to be useful,” Miach said with a shrug. “As always.”
“Go be useful somewhere else.”
Miach only smiled, clapped him on the shoulder, then sauntered off, whistling cheerfully. Ruith cursed him silently, then turned and continued on his way. He hadn’t walked another fifty paces before he found himself having to duck behind a convenient hedge to avoid interrupting a conversation he had the feeling he wasn’t going to enjoy.
“You know, Sarah darling, we were thinking that perhaps we would return home.”
Ruith was tempted to swear, but he would have given himself away and earned a lecture from his grandmother Eulasaid who was corrupting a certain weaver on the other side of the hedge. His grandfather Sgath was there as well, adding his encouragement to the nefarious schemes apparently being bandied about.
“I told Sgath that Ruith might be annoyed we had invited you to come with us,” she continued easily, “but Sgath suspected you might need…less.”
“Less to look at,” Sgath clarified. “Sìle’s hall is, I will freely tell anyone who’ll listen, terribly overdone.”
“It’s glorious, truly,” Sarah protested.
“Ah, but when compared to the wonders of my lake,” Sgath said with a good deal of satisfaction, “it’s just gaudy.” He sounded as if he were thoroughly enjoying himself. “Think on it, Sarah. Peace, quiet, and fresh fish roasting over a hot fire. And we generally don’t dress for supper, though we have been known to wash our hands from time to time before we eat.”
Ruith pursed his lips. He was quite certain his mother had warned him once—very well, it might have been more than once—about the dangers of eavesdropping. He was regretting quite seriously not having taken her advice.
“Shall you come home with us, then?” Sgath asked. “You might be pleased to know I’ve put up a bit of a tent on that spot you fancied.”
“On your lake?” Sarah asked, sounding altogether too interested in the same.
“Aye.”
There was silence for a very long moment, then came words Ruith was not at all surprised to hear.
“That would be very kind.”
“We’ll leave when you’re ready,” Eulasaid said gently. “Perhaps in the morning. You wouldn’t want to miss the ball tonight.”
“Ball?” Sarah echoed, managing to sound with one word as if missing such a glorious occasion wouldn’t have pleased her more.
“And a state dinner beforehand,” Sgath said cheerfully. “Dozens of important people. Well, perhaps not dozens. It is Seanagarra, after all, and Sìle seems to always be running short of invitation letters.” He paused, then made a sound of surprise. “I have a thought,” he continued brightly.
Ruith imagined he did. He imagined he wasn’t going to particularly care for his grandfather’s thought.
“Why don’t we leave this afternoon?” Sgath suggested. “You finish your walk, then meet us in the stables. We’ll be ready to go in a blink, won’t we, my love?”
“We will be,” Eulasaid agreed. “Shall I dim the garden for you, Sarah?”
“No,” Sarah said quietly, “but I appreciate the offer. I’ll be fine.”
Ruith started to frown, but realized he couldn’t in good conscience do so. The truth was, Sìle’s palace was almost more than he could look at comfortably and he’d spent more than half his childhood there. He could only imagine how many times Sarah had already dimmed her sight over the past se’nnight. That she’d remained there that long was, he supposed, something of a miracle. Perhaps it was best to let her go somewhere where things weren’t so overwhelming visually. He could be persuaded to trail along after her, if she were interested in that sort of thing.
He continued to lean over in a rather uncomfortable crouch, watching the ground, until he thought it might be safe to m
ove. He straightened with a groan, then turned to walk out of the hedge.
Sgath was standing two feet away, watching him.
Ruith looked for a plausible excuse, but found nary a one to hand. He settled for a scowl.
“I thought you wanted grandchildren.”
Sgath grunted. “I won’t be having any from the pair of you if you don’t get her out of this garish, gilt-encrusted cage Sìle calls a palace.”
Ruith refrained from commenting on the delights to be found in the little hovel Sgath had called home for centuries before he’d wed Eulasaid. Sgath would plead a poor memory and then they would be back where they started. Ruith sighed, then shooed his grandfather out of his way.
“I don’t want to discuss my amorous adventures with you,” Ruith said crisply. “You’ll just tell me what to do.”
“My advice is always very good.”
“Well, you’ve given more than I cared for to my future wife,” Ruith said pointedly. “Go saddle your horses. I have the feeling she’s not going to be dressing for dinner.”
“She’s waiting for you over there in the garden.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Her sight is very clear, you know. I daresay it extends even over hedges.”
Sgath clapped him companionably on the shoulder, then walked away. Ruith watched him go, then dragged his hand through his hair. He did it again, on the off chance that it looked as if he’d been dragging his hand through his hair, though he supposed there was no use in hiding his thoughts from Sarah. She would see them written on his heart.
He removed himself from his hiding place, rounded the end of the hedge, then managed only a few steps into the garden before he had to stop and simply look.
Sarah was, he had to admit, glorious. She was wearing a flaming red gown he’d asked to have made for her, a gown like the one she’d worn in Léige. Her hair hung down her back in a riot of curls, though he could see from where he stood that she was wearing a very discreet circlet of gold on top of her head.
Well, he imagined that would be the first thing to go if she had anything to say about it.
She smiled at him as he wlked across the grass toward her, which he thought might be a very good sign. He drew her into his arms, because he couldn’t help himself. He wouldn’t keep her there if she wasn’t amenable, but he wasn’t about to let her traipse off to Lake Cladach without his having told her precisely how he felt.
“I want to use one of my markers tonight,” she said, finally.
He nodded, because he could do nothing else.
She looked up at him seriously. “It isn’t you, Ruith.”
“I could come with you,” he offered.
She smiled, a smile that smote him straight to the heart. “Your sister is going to be here for another few days, I think, as is Rùnach. Surely you want to visit with them. And I’m not going far.”
He chewed on his words for a bit. “And you wouldn’t be unhappy to see me in that place that isn’t far?”
She closed her eyes briefly, then threw her arms around his neck and held on to him tightly. He would have enjoyed that, but she was shaking too badly for him to. And before he could say anything else, she had pulled back, kissed him quickly, then bolted across the garden.
He watched her go, then sighed as he went to sit down on a bench beneath a blossoming linden tree. The smell was glorious, but he realized after a bit that he wasn’t enjoying it.
He understood what troubled Sarah. As thrilled as he was to have his siblings to hand again, it was difficult to return to a place he’d known so well in his youth whilst knowing all the years the pleasure hadn’t been his. But at least he was returning to someplace known.
Sarah had nowhere to return to. There wasn’t a single place in the Nine Kingdoms that she could have gone to and called home. There were many places, most notably his grandfather’s hall and any number of no doubt very lovely locales in Cothromaiche, where she would have been welcomed with open arms and every attempt made to make her feel as if she belonged.
But none of those places would have felt like they belonged to her.
There was only one place he could think of where that might even be possible and the offer of traveling there had already been extended. He would watch her go, give her as much time as she needed to settle in, then see if he couldn’t find his own way there and plead his case.
And hope that she would still be interested in listening.
T
hree hours later, he stood at the edge of the stables and watched as three dragons bearing a trio of riders lifted themselves with great dignity into the air and flapped off into the cloudy afternoon. “Are you going to let her go?”
Ruith looked to his left to find his grandmother standing there next to him. He put his arm around her and smiled down at her. “Briefly.”
“She told me earlier that she was using one of her get-out-
of-uncomfortable-formal-dinner excuses,” Brèagha said with a smile. “She hoped she wasn’t offending me by doing so.”
“And you said?”
“I told her that Eulasaid’s garden was almost at its peak, and that it was a gentler flowering. It seemed to me that a girl with her particular sort of talents might appreciate that, especially after all she’s been through recently.” She looked up at him. “Don’t you think?”
“I do.”
Brèagha paused, then laughed suddenly. “You dreadful boy, aren’t you going to tell me your plans?”
“Aye, Grandmother, I am,” Ruith said, keeping his arm round her and pulling her away from the stables back to the house. “My immediate plan is to head off into the forest and chop down the most lovely tree I find—”
“Ruith!”
“Then I thought I would trouble Master Coillear for the use of his lathe for a day or two. I’ll need clamps as well, and perhaps an hour or two in the forge.”
Brèagha looked up at him in surprise. “Is that all?”
“You might have a chat with my horse and see if he would mind bearing a few extra burdens when we fly west.”
She smiled. “Nothing from the silversmith?”
Ruith kissed the top of her head. “I’ll invite you to the wedding. From what I understand, Eulasaid and Sgath’s garden is almost at its peak.”
Brèagha smiled at him affectionately. “We’ll come. And I promise to wear flowers in my hair instead of a crown.” She patted his back, then released him to walk back to the house. She looked back over her shoulder briefly. “You should leave Gair’s ring with your brother.”
“I thought I could,” he managed, then watched her until she had safely reached the house before he went to go find the tools he was going to need.
He supposed, when he actually took a hard look at it, that there were things he still needed to discuss with his family, things that had to do with his sire and their quest and how they all might put it finally and fully behind them.
And then he would go to the place where he and Sarah could meet in the middle.
He suspected he would find Sarah already there.
Twenty-two
S
arah sat on a fallen log on the most beautiful spot in the Nine Kingdoms and watched the lake in front of her. The sunlight laughed as it sparkled on the water, the waves sang as they lapped against the shore, the rocks and fine sand that lay near her feet held on to the centuries of tales they could have told her if she’d asked them to. She’d been happy with silence, actually.
She had been at Lake Cladach for almost a se’nnight, though it hadn’t seemed that long. She had been sleeping at Sgath and Eulasaid’s house which, whilst it wasn’t quite a palace, was definitely not a cabin. It was a very lovely, large house with more bedchambers than she’d been able to count and glorious gardens surrounding it. Slightly less spectacular than were to be found at Seanagarra, but she’d been very grateful for that. If she hadn’ t known better, she would have thought the whole place a fitting abode for a genteel nobleman and his wife. Modest but elegant.
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She liked it very much.
She had woken that first day after a marvelous night’s sleep to find a boat tied to the dock, ready for her use. She’d reached for the oars only to have Sgath come trotting down the dock with his lure-encrusted hat on his head and fishing pole over his shoulder. He’d rowed her to the other side of the lake in no time at all, left the boat for her, then whistled as he walked off to search for a decent fishing spot.
She had found herself in a particular spot Sgath had shown her the first time she’d come to the lake with Ruith. It was, as she hadn’t dared tell Sgath lest she look too terribly desperate to have it, perfect. Just the right amount of shore. Room for an enormous garden, space for the grazing of sheep, and a perfect clearing in which to build a house.
She had hinted she wouldn’t be opposed to another visit on the second day she’d been there, and she’d been sent out the door with a basket of supper and wishes for a lovely day. Tarbh had been waiting for her on the dock, stubbornly refusing to move until she agreed that he would be first her wings across the lake, then her…well, he hadn’t seemed inclined to change himself back into a horse so she supposed he could only be called a watchdragon.
She looked behind her to find him currently sleeping in the sun, curled up in dragonshape. She had to admit that his preferred shape had been handy enough earlier that morning given that he’d snorted a bit of fire under her dying kettle and saved her the trouble of seeing to the blaze herself.
She wondered how difficult it would be to get a message to Soilléir, to thank him for the gift of such a lovely, thoughtful animal.
She rose with a sigh and walked back up from the shore. She paused to look at the tent she had found just waiting there in the clearing the first day—though calling it a tent was to cast aspersions on its finer qualities. It was a house with soft walls. She imagined she could have lived there quite comfortably for quite some time.
The note she’d read the week before was still pinned onto the door, a note that advised her to only let good friends inside. She wasn’t sure what Ruith had said to Sgath—if anything—but the words made her smile every time she saw them, so she left the note there.