by Sarah Rayne
*
The mountain hall of Cait Fian was large and airy, and everywhere there was the faint ice-on-blue light. Flynn wondered if it was something to do with the actual substance of the walls — weren’t they half into the mountain? — and he remembered the pale misty light of the Morne Mountains which he had often seen from Tugaim. In here it was almost as if the mountain light had been trapped and harnessed and redirected. Pure light, thought Flynn, fascinated and charmed in quite a different way to the way in which he had been fascinated and charmed by the Sun Chamber. A great hearth had been hewn into the rock, and a fire burned up, sending out a gentle musk-scented essence. Flynn thought that if a fire could possibly be described as cool, then this one could be so described. The floor beneath them was of pale solid rock, polished until it gleamed, smooth and very nearly glasslike, touched with the same ice-blue as the outer walls of the palace. Thick pale skin rugs were strewn on the floor and Flynn was just thinking that this was one of the most beautiful rooms he had ever seen, when a curtain at the far end drew back and their host appeared.
Cait Fian was far more obviously of animal blood than anyone Flynn had yet met. His hair was pure black and silky, and his eyes were a bright clear green, His ears were set very high on his skull, and they were pointed and covered with silky fur, and his mouth was wide and curving, the upper lip short like a cat’s. As he moved to greet them, Flynn saw that his feet were bare, the soles padded like an animal’s.
At Flynn’s side, Sean said out of the corner of his mouth, “Whatever you do, don’t look surprised. It’s a very ancient and very strong Bloodline. Nearly as ancient as the Wolfline.”
Flynn, trying not to stare, said, “I’ve never seen anyone quite like him.”
Sean said, “Wait until you meet Cormac himself.”
Cait Fian greeted them all with exquisite courtesy, exchanging ribald greetings with Conaire, entering into bluff discourse with CuChulainn, but inquiring of Oscar the precise route they had followed.
“All things to all men,” muttered Sean to Flynn. “He always knows what to say. It’s just a knack, of course.”
“Of course,’’ said Flynn, fascinated.
“Easily acquired if you care to bother,” said Sean.
“Oh yes.”
“I wish I had it,” said Sean wistfully.
Cait Fian was greeting the twins now, and the green eyes were surveying Etain with unconcealed interest. Flynn, waiting his turn to be presented, thought they made a striking couple.
“Yes, it’s generally thought they’ll wed,” said Sean. “Quite suitable of course, because the White Swans are very good family. A touch flighty perhaps, but Cait Fian is more than equal to that. Here we are. You don’t need to bow. He’s only a Prince, not a High King. And even then you don’t need to bow.”
Flynn found himself greeted with immaculate politeness and a shrewd green stare.
“A traveller,” said Cait Fian at length. “Dear me, this is very interesting. I do like to hear about journeys, because if you cannot always be travelling yourself — so exhausting and so time-consuming — hearing about other people’s is nearly as good, don’t you think? Of course, people say it is just living vicariously, but I never bother about what people say.” He took Flynn’s hand and smiled a cat-smile. “Flynn you must sit next to me at supper,” said Cait Fian, and then, “Ah Sean, is it you? What an age it has been. I shall want to know everything that has been happening at Court — everything, and you must omit nothing.
“Do come along into supper, my children. Etain, you are to sit beside me, with Flynn.”
The meal which was served in a small room just off the coolly beautiful main hall, was very good. “And very lavish,” said Sean, pleased.
They began with plovers’ eggs and rocs’ eggs served on a bed of dark moss, and Cait Fian leaned across the table and said to Conaire in a whisper, “Nor relatives, Conaire dear one, I should not dream of behaving so tastelessly as to serve anything that could be misconstrued. Plovers and rocs, and you would not give credence to the trouble my people go to to secure them.” He prodded the dish. “But plovers and rocs and nothing more, cousin, unless of course a pigeon’s egg has slipped in, for I would not like to actually take an oath that is has not.”
After the eggs, which Flynn had never encountered, but which he enjoyed, there was a preponderance of fish.
“Quite fresh,” said Cait Fian, taking a minute portion from several different platters. “Do allow me to guide you, Flynn. Here is a type of lake fish which I am sure you will — Yes, Sean, there are lakes in the mountains, and if you do not believe me I can convince you by dropping you in one — Well, that is the lake fish. And here is, dear me, can it be Twilight Fish? Ullgall, have we Twilight Fi — Ah, have we? Really? Ah, caught in the Candle Mountain, yes that would account for it so early in the … Well, my dears, it is apparently Twilight Fish and rather a delicacy at this time of the year, as you know. Etain, you must let me slice a portion for you. And the veriest morsel of sorrel to go with it? Now this is salmonidae — very good. And ingot fish. Flynn, you will like this …
“Will somebody please refill Conaire’s goblet for him, for we all know he cannot survive without frequent draughts of wine. CuChulainn, my precious, did you know your sleeve was trailing in the turbot? It cannot be by design …”
There were dishes of what Flynn thought might be chicken or perhaps rabbit, braised in some kind of sauce, and there were small dishes of rich sweet honey. Cait Fian ate daintily, licking his fingers after each few mouthfuls, and Flynn grinned to himself and remembered about being in Rome all over again.
“And there should be honey for each place,” said Cait Fian, “for I always finish a meal with a dish of honey. Ah yes, I see that Ullgall has not disgraced us. Oscar, there is no need whatsoever to think you have to be dainty, we are not in the Sun Chamber now. And it is impossible to eat warm honey. Drink it, my dear ones, dish to lips. Allow me to demonstrate, Etain.” He slipped a practised arm about Etain’s shoulders as he said this, and winked at Flynn, as he did so, and the wink said: do not be fooled by my apparent softness and by my sheathed claws, Flynn. And Flynn, who had not been in the least fooled, grinned and lifted his honey, which was warm and buttery and wholly delicious, to his mouth.
“Well,” said Cait Fian, returning to his own dish of honey, “so we are to re-establish my cousin Cormac at Tara, are we?”
“We hope so,” said Conaire, “will you help us?”
“Oh I should think so,” said Cait Fian lightly. “Yes, I do think I should.” He leaned over to Flynn. “I do enjoy a fight,” he said confidentially. “And of course, there is nothing I would not do for Cormac. Really, my dears, Eochaid Bres ought to have been removed long before this, but there is so much to a war, isn’t there? And of course, to begin with, Eochaid and Bricriu guarded Tara so fiercely that not even a gnat could have breached the defences.” He placed his empty honey dish down on the table, cleaned his fingers again thoughtfully, and reached for a second dish. “Do tell me,” he said, “Sean, you will be sure to know. All those years in Scáthach … I suppose they have not — ah — affected Cormac at all?”
Sean said, rather blankly, “Not so far as I know.”
Conaire chuckled and said, “No, cousin, they have not. Cormac has not lost his sanity.”
“I am very glad to hear it,” said Cait Fian seriously, “because I really could not countenance the restoration of a mad King on the throne — oh no, it would not do at all”
“It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve had —”
“Sean, if you bear us the smallest goodwill, not Lugalla the Fifth,” said Cait Fian plaintively. And then, to Flynn, “One of our more unfortunate High Kings, you understand.”
“Cormac,” said Conaire firmly, “has retained all his wits.”
“I am delighted to hear it,” said Cait Fian. “Even so — exile! And at Scáthach!” He shuddered, and addressed himself to his honey. “Of course, I could have
told him that the very minute he tangled with Mab —” His eyes suddenly slewed round to where Flynn was trying to look noncommittal. “Of course,” said Cait Fian, “it’s always a great compliment to be one of Mab’s lovers.”
“Ah. Really?”
“Only the best of us,” said Cait Fian and sent Flynn another of his winks. “But as for Cormac — yes, there is no question but that he must be reinstated. He’s very wild, you know.” He paused and went through the same procedure of licking the honey and then cleaning his fingers afterwards. “But he’s by far the finest High King Ireland has had since Dierdriu.”
“Is he?” said Flynn, who did not really think he had thrown in his lot with the wrong side, but was glad to have his judgment approved.
“Oh without a doubt,” said Cait Fian, still sorting out his honey. “I daresay I ought to have done something about it well before this, but there never seems time. But now here you all are, beautifully organised — I do admire efficiency — and it is high time that we gave Eochaid Bres and the Fox the beating they deserve.” He stood up and they all followed suit. “And now,” said Cait Fian, “if we are to hold a Council of War — dear me, what fun, I shall enjoy it — do let us move to a more comfortable room. I like to be comfortable,” he added to Flynn. “Etain, my child, allow me to show you the way. Do you know, you are rather more beautiful than I had remembered…”?
*
The more comfortable room turned out to be a kind of library with books ranged round the walls, and deep soft chairs covered in thick fur. Skin rugs lay on the floor, and a fire burned. Someone — Ullgall? — had set out pitchers of wine and mead, and tall glasses, and there were dishes of glazed fruits and crystallized ginger.
Etain threw herself down in a chair by the blazing fire, and said, “Oh, it is so good to be here again.”
Cait Fian smiled at her, and said in a voice that was very nearly a purr, “You should perhaps consider staying for a long time.”
Etain said, “Perhaps I should,” and Sean’s ears twitched, because if this was not a Declaration, it was very close to one, and Declarations meant Betrothals, and Betrothals meant Marriages, and all three meant ceremonies with properly written entertainments. Sean thought it would not hurt to just earmark a few preliminary ideas. Swans and Panthers. Yes, you could do quite a lot with that.
Oscar had moved to the serried rows of books, and Cait Fian said with a pleased smile, “I do like people to admire my books. And I have a rather good copy of the Book of the Academy of Necromancers. Ullgall reads it to me,” he added, his expression as bland as buttermilk, “for we all know the requirements. ‘Only the purest of heart’ — I daresay the wretched thing would frizzle if I approached it. But I do believe in knowing what the sorcerers are up to.
“Now, you must all of you seat yourselves wherever you like, and CuChulainn, would you just put a few more logs on the — Ah yes, that is the way. Best mountain ash, I never have anything else on my fires, but they are not Sleeping Trees, I am very strict about the Tree Laws.” He curled himself into one of the chairs, and smiled. “And so,” said Cait Fian in his velvet voice, “you must tell me everything about your plans.”
He listened attentively to the campaign outlined by Oscar and Flynn, and at the end he was ruthlessly and charmingly efficient. He wanted to know the precise number of people in their small army. “And,” said Sean later, “he barely batted a whisker when we told him.”
“I know it doesn’t sound many,” said Conaire, rather worriedly when they had counted up three times and reached the same dismal total each time.
“I freely admit it does not,” agreed Cait Fian with the utmost politeness.
“Yes, but we shall each call up our Bloodline creatures.”
“Well I do think you will have to. Let me see. Chariot Horses and Deer and Eagles, and dearest Etain’s and Midir’s White Swans.”
“And the Wolves,” put in Sean. “Don’t forget the Wolves.”
“I wish I could forget them,” said Cait Fian with a shudder.
“My kitchens have been a battleground since they arrived. I love Cormac devotedly and I will spare no effort to help him regain his throne, but I do wish he would train those creatures. However, to our plans. The Mindsong ought really to go out tonight, children.”
“So soon?” said Conaire, rather startled, and the others looked up.
“Too exhausting for you all, I know,” said Cait Fian. “I do sympathise. But I do not think we can leave it any longer. We do not know where Cormac is, and if the Miller has him — or worse — every hour makes a difference.”
“He’s right,” put in CuChulainn.
“Precious one, I am always right,” said Cait Fian, and sent Flynn another of his conspiratorial winks. “And once we have the Bloodline creatures with us, I think we should leave for Tara at first light. After,” he said, with a thoughtful look at Etain, “after we have spent a restful night here.”
“Do we journey all together?” inquired Flynn.
“Oh I think we should,” said Cait Fian.
Conaire said, “If we are together it will be easier to repel any enemies we might encounter.”
“Enemies?” said Sean suspiciously. “What sort of enemies? I’m not here to do any repelling. You do know that, don’t you? You haven’t forgotten?
“I made it perfectly clear,” said Sean to Cait Fian, who was looking amused, “that I would not do any fighting. I’m a man of peace,” he said with an air of dignity, “and I’m an ollam, and if there’s any idea of me actually fighting —”
“Unruffle yourself, Sean, my poor unloved peacemaker. You shall brandish the pen rather than the sword — dear me, how poetic that sounds. Do you suppose that in time to come it will be quoted as a philosophy? If that should happen, I do hope that you at least will remember that I said it first.” And then, to the indignant Sean, “You see,” said Cait Fian, “we are not very far from the Walled City of the Erl-King, and Conaire, with his admirable logic, thinks we may encounter one or two of his creatures.”
“I hope not,” said Oscar, and Flynn noticed that even CuChulainn looked thoughtful.
“The Gentleman has his spies,” said Cait Fian, “well, don’t we all. But his spies are very nasty people. And then, of course, we must pass near to Muileann, and I have to tell you that the Morrigna and I are not on very good terms these days.” Fie sat back and smiled the cat-smile.
Conaire grinned, “More wars, cousin?”
“My life is one perpetual sacrifice to war,” said Cait Fian cosily. “The tales I could tell … But yes, we had a small battle last year — the merest skirmish really, but still …”
“We didn’t hear about it,” said CuChulainn interested.
“Dear one, it was a courtyard brawl and nothing more,” said Cait Fian. “Even Morrigan did not bother to attend.”
“I bet you did,” said Midir, grinning.
“Well I do not like to miss these things,” said Cait Fian. “And I had a new cloak — silver trimmed, very becoming — which reminds me of our apparel for this war for Cormac; do let us choose really bold colours, I do like a battle to be colourful …” He smiled and resettled himself in his chair. “But as for last year’s little matter, oh, it was only Macha and one or two of her nasty little followers.”
“Followers?” said Flynn.
“Hags and crones,” said Etain. “Cait Fian eats them for breakfast and spits out the bones.”
“Yes, there were some hags,” said Cait Fian. “And I recall seeing two banshees which was unusual for that time of year. But it was all very trivial and we beat them quite easily. Sean, my love, if you must compose one of your delightful ballads about it, I do ask you to do so later.”
“Quite right,” said CuChulainn looking round. “This is a Council of War.” He glowered at Sean who had been making some furtive notes, and Sean shuffled his jottings together rather huffily and said, “Oh excuse me for breathing.”
Oscar had been scanning the she
lves for maps. “Beautifully catalogued,” he said afterwards, and now produced one which showed the entire Manor of Tara and the surrounding countryside. Cait Fian helped him to unroll it and spread it out on the floor at their feet, curling himself neatly at one corner. “Tara,” he said, tapping the map’s centre. “And here is the Forest of Darkness. Just fringing the Plain of the Fál.”
Flynn said, without thinking, “And of course, we must make our camp on the Plain,” and Cait Fian shot him an admiring look.
“So we should,” he said.
“It’s very near to the Druids’ Settlement,” said Conaire.
CuChulainn grinned, and said, “Flynn’s been there once. He won’t risk it again,” and Cait Fian sat back and stared at Flynn.
“No! Flynn, have you really? Oh you must tell me all about it. Everything. I have always wanted to get inside the Druids’ Settlement, and I’ve never managed it.”
Sean said, “As a matter of fact, I did just dash off a bit of a Lament —” and was instantly shouted down.
“Not during a Council of War,” said CuChulainn firmly.
“But perhaps afterwards,” said Oscar kindly. Sean retired to a corner of the room to study Cait Fian’s books, and could be heard muttering that they none of them had any romance in their souls, and he wished he had not come.
“I knew how it would be,” he said, and began ferociously to read The Conjoining of Men with Beasts: A Manual.
Flynn was studying the maps, his eyes narrowed. “Once we are on the Plain,” he said, “we shall have to divide our strengths. The Eagles and the White Swans ought to mount an attack from the air, and while they prepare to do that, we should use the Chariot Horses and the Deer as decoys.” He frowned and went on studying the map, and the others looked at him respectfully.
Cait Fian said to Oscar, “Is that all right? The Deer won’t mind being used as decoys? CuChulainn? What about the Chariot Horses?”
“It’s a good idea,” said Oscar, nodding.
“So long as we can be in on the fighting later,” said CuChulainn firmly.