BRIGIT STEPPED FORWARD. With a sigh, I followed. Rhiwallon and Owain were close behind me. It might have been the same cavern in which we had last encountered the fey, for the cavern walls were composed of layers of orange and brown and red rocks, and the ceiling arched up high out of sight.
Oberon looked grave but there was a hint of something about him that suggested he might be more compassionate than she. Titania stood stiffly with her hands on her hips. Her long dark hair flowed unrestrained down to her waist. She wore a scarlet dress that swept the floor of the cavern and dipped so low over her chest that I averted my eyes, blushing. Titania looked at me, eyebrows raised, but said nothing.
"Why are we here?" I asked finally, tiring of her silent game and too exhausted to care about being polite.
"To account for yourselves, of course," Titania said. She looked at us each in turn, eyes lingering on Brigit. "So, you have found a way back to your own form."
"It was one of your kin who stole my form from me," Brigit said and although her tone was respectful, it also contained a clear challenge.
Titania's mouth turned up into something that might have been a smile if her face wasn't so cold. "You refused an instruction. We made you comply."
"What right do you have to give me any instruction? Had she told me why she wanted me to go, I would have gone. You have no right to demand and expect me to obey."
"Mortals are stubborn and stupid. There is no point trying to explain something you can't understand."
"You could have given me a chance to understand."
"It matters little whether you understand or not." Titania's glare was icy. "You have done what we wanted. The reason is of no consequence."
"It mightn't matter to you but it does to me," Brigit said. "Nobody should be forced into another creature's form. To have to learn how that body works, how it responds. To have everything they know about the world suddenly taken away."
Titania glared at Brigit. "You are stubborn, just like your father. You had better be careful if you don't want to end up the way he did. You came too close this time. Cross me again and it will be worse for you."
Brigit looked like she wanted to say more but Titania dismissed her with a slight lift of her chin and looked towards Rhiwallon.
"He suspects you are with child," Titania said. "He knew there had to be a reason you ran."
Rhiwallon paled but she straightened her shoulders and stared back at Titania. "Do you intend to tell him where I am?"
"He hasn't asked me."
"Was it his beast that stole me away? Or yours?"
Titania barked a laugh. "That beast was no fey construct. We have no need to conjure such a creature. If he knew where you were, he would have simply taken you himself."
"Then where did the beast come from?" Rhiwallon asked. "And why did it take me into your lands?"
Titania lifted one slender shoulder in an elegant shrug. "It should not have been able to access my realm. The one who made such a creature is powerful indeed, but you should ask your own companions for the answers to your questions."
She turned to Owain then and looked him up and down. Owain stood silently, waiting for her to finish her slow inspection.
"You chose a strange path," Titania said and her tone was almost friendly now. "But you should choose your friends with more care. When she discovers your secret, she will turn on you."
She gave Owain no opportunity to speak but turned instead to me. I quailed a little. Ida stirred, perhaps sensing a momentary lack of attention, and I redoubled my focus on holding the lid securely on her box.
"Bard," Titania said. "Your quest is complete."
"So it would seem." I was pleased my voice sounded strong and confident despite how I trembled inside.
"Mortals are not meant to have power such as yours. But your line is strong and determined. Unnecessarily stupid at times. I shall make the same offer to you that I have made to every seventh son of a seventh son in your family. I can remove your ability. I can take it away from you so you never bring your words to life again. You can be free to tell your little tales without fearing the consequences."
"Why would you do that?"
"My reasons are my own and they need not concern you." Titania's voice was impatient now. "Do you accept or not?"
"What will you give me in exchange?"
"What will I give you? Why would I give you anything? I have made an exceedingly generous offer to remove a troublesome ability. I needn't give you anything in exchange for making your life easier."
I hesitated, sorely tempted. If Titania were to take my ability, I could be a bard again. And this time, I would study my craft. I would not be so proud about telling the learning tales my audience despised, but would create tales of beauty and wonder, courage and heroes. But if I retained my ability, I could never tell another tale.
"If you want something from me, you must offer something in exchange. You cannot take my ability, but I can freely give it to you. And I do not intend to do that unless you offer me something of equal worth."
All pretence of a smile faded from Titania's face and I trembled as her face twisted in fury.
"You stupid mortal. Do you think to bargain with me? I have already been generous with you. I have given something of immense value, to you at least, but it seems you are too stupid to realise it. I shall not give you anything further in exchange. You will give me your ability in payment for what you have already received."
I didn't bother to ask what she meant. "Then I decline your offer."
"Foolish man. Why are the bards of your line so stupid? I make this same magnanimous offer to every one of them and they all refuse."
I held my tongue for none of the responses that came to mind were terribly polite. But now I knew that Papa too had rejected Titania's offer.
"Go then," Titania said. "Stupid mortals. You have no idea how good I am to you."
I blinked and the cavern was gone. We again stood in the doorway of our bedchamber. The hallway stretched behind us and the murmur of voices and the crash of plates rose from the common room.
"Well, that's that." Brigit sounded as dazed as I felt. "She could have at least left us closer to home."
53
Diarmuid
I TRIED NOT to look at Brigit as we prepared to depart The Midnight Traveller. Clearly the task she had refused had something to do with my quest. But why was Titania so interested in my journey? Did she know I couldn't succeed without Brigit? And if so, why did she care?
As we hauled our packs out to the cart, the oxen snorted and seemed as keen as we were to be off. The day was bright and sunny and perfect for travelling. The snow was melting a little more every day and the wrens and robins had appeared from wherever they had spent the winter.
It was hard to concentrate on keeping Ida's box closed while doing other things, perhaps harder than I had expected. I clung to Fiachra's belief that it would become easier with time. Could she still hear my thoughts? Was she also witness to everything I said and did? Now that I had some small understanding of how my ability worked, I was beginning to realise why Ida was what she was. If indeed everything she knew came from my head, then all she knew of the world was from my tales. I had never told a tale where the hero succeeded because of his courage or where light triumphed over dark. Never had my tales culminated in a happy ending or the banishment of evil.
Caedmon had tried to tell me. The night we had sat up late in front of the fireplace after his betrothal party seemed like a lifetime ago. Was he still alive? Or had I killed him with that poorly-chosen tale about the soldier who was beaten to death by his new bride's menfolk? And what of Grainne? Did I harm her too?
How many others had I hurt? All because I had presumed to tell tales that would teach my audience to be better than they were. Why had I thought it was my place to do such a thing? Over and over people told me they wanted to hear of heroes and love and happy endings but I resolutely continued to tell my dark tales of danger and i
njury.
It was just as well I had already resolved to never tell another tale. I couldn't be trusted with them. I would never forgive myself for the havoc Ida had wrought, but at least I had been ignorant of my ability back then. I no longer had such a defence. And if there was any possibility that Ida still listened in on my thoughts, then I had to be very careful to only think such things as I would want someone else to know. Perhaps the right kind of thoughts could change her. Perhaps I could insure against the possibility that she might escape again. I could teach her honesty, courage and humanity. If she knew more of light and beauty, perhaps things would be different next time. Owain's voice intruded on my thoughts.
"I'll go settle the account," he said.
Brigit quickly offered to go with him and I was left alone with Rhiwallon for the first time since our encounter in the barn. I caught her glaring at me as she tossed a pack into the cart. She wore her travelling clothes today: long pants, her freshly restocked quiver hanging from a belt, and her red hair tucked up under a scarf.
My cheeks immediately heated and I ducked my head, pretending to search for something in my pack. The air felt thick with our silence. Suddenly Rhiwallon stomped over to stand right in front of me where I couldn't pretend I didn't see her.
"I wouldn't have betrayed you," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "I can hardly believe you would think that. I thought we were friends."
Surprised, it took me a few moments to think of a response. "I couldn't be sure. Her power was strong. She charmed Owain and he's the toughest man I know. I thought she would try to turn each of you against me. And I thought…"
"Say it." Rhiwallon's tone was withering.
"I thought that if she offered to protect you, to hide you, you might help her in return."
"She's evil, Diarmuid. She needed to be stopped. I knew that just as well as anyone did. I wouldn't have traded my own security against stopping her. I didn't come this far just for my own benefit."
"You didn't?"
Rhiwallon's glare became even frostier.
"But you didn't even believe me. I thought we just happened to be going in the same direction."
"It's a hard thing to believe when someone you barely know tells you they've brought a creature of their imagination to life. I partly believed you, just not completely. Not until I saw her. When I stood face-to-face with her and felt her power, then I believed. But by then you had stopped believing in me."
I hung my head, thoroughly ashamed. "I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say but I'm sorry about the way I treated you. That I didn't believe in you. And I'm sorry about that night in the barn." I finished in a rush. "You deserved better than that. Caedmon set it up and he wouldn't listen when I tried to tell him no."
Rhiwallon's smile was gentle and for perhaps the first time, I didn't feel like she was mocking me. "I understand. But does she know?"
"Who?"
"Brigit."
"Of course not. I've not told anyone."
"But you'll tell her sooner or later, won't you?"
"No, never."
"It's not a secret you can keep if you intend to build a future with her."
My mouth fell open and I stammered. "What- Why- I don't know what you mean."
Rhiwallon rolled her eyes. "It's obvious, Diarmuid. Anyone who has eyes can see the way you feel about her."
"Do you think she knows?"
"Probably, but she's waiting for you to make the first move."
"But what would I do?"
"Just tell her. Tell her how you feel."
"I couldn't."
"Then the two of you will part ways and you'll probably never see her again."
"Is there nothing else I can do?"
"It's time to be a man, Diarmuid. If you want her, you're going to have to tell her."
I swallowed hard and stared down at the ground. "What will you do now? Where will you go?"
Rhiwallon shrugged. "Away from here. As far as I can. Somewhere he will never look. Where even Titania won't be able to find me if he thinks to ask her."
"I wish you luck," I said. "I hope you find somewhere safe."
"Thank you, Diarmuid." Rhiwallon tossed the final pack into the cart and climbed in after it. It seemed the conversation was over.
54
Brigit
AS WE LEFT Crow's Nest, things felt strangely familiar and yet at the same time, they were so different that I wondered how I had ended up in such a situation. Once again I shared the cart with Diarmuid and Rhiwallon. Only this time, instead of being tucked into a cozy basket with a blanket that Diarmuid had wrapped snugly around me, I sat with my back against a pack and the edge of my thighs touching Rhiwallon's.
Diarmuid sat on the other side of Rhiwallon. That didn't surprise me. He would hardly want to be in a situation where he might accidentally touch me. I hardened my heart. He had hurt me enough. It was time to remember who I was: Brigit, wise woman. Or intended to be a wise woman, at least. What would Mother say when I finally arrived home? Had she been worrying about me or had the Sight showed enough for her to make sense of my strange journey?
We spoke little as the cart rumbled along and the day passed with us each absorbed in our own thoughts. My heart lifted a little at each sign of spring's approach: young shoots of grass in a sunny patch where the snow had melted, tiny new leaves on birch and beech, pale yellow catkins on hazels. The only sign of human habitation was a trail of smoke from an unseen chimney. The oxen moved slowly, pulling the cart with unusual reluctance.
We were midway between towns as the light started to fade from the sky. Owain directed the oxen away from the road and halted beside a row of shrubby birch that would provide some cover from overnight winds. I clambered out of the cart, my legs stiff after hours of sitting. Diarmuid, Owain and Rhiwallon quickly fell into their usual routine of setting up the camp. I hesitated, unsure how to contribute for as Bramble I had not been expected to do anything other than curl up in my basket and watch.
"You could make some tea," Rhiwallon said, her tone almost friendly. She had seemed almost as startled as Diarmuid to see me in my own form for the first time. Owain, on the other hand, had greeted me with a firm hug and a complete lack of surprise.
"Tea," I said. "Good idea."
A search of the area around us elicited a handful of sage and thyme. Diarmuid had already made a ring of stones for a fire pit and built up a pile of dry twigs and dead leaves. Rhiwallon had just started the fire and was tucking the flint back away in a pocket. I emptied a flask of water into a pot and nestled it amongst the blazing kindling.
Rhiwallon returned with a pair of hares before the water had even boiled. For a moment, I felt like Bramble again, curled comfortably by the fire, watching as Rhiwallon skinned and gutted the hares. As Bramble, I was always hopeful she might offer me the innards and was always disappointed when she tossed them into the fire. As Brigit, I could make a decent enough meal of the innards if necessary although I preferred the roasted meat, smoky from the fire and dripping with hot juices. Rhiwallon chopped the hares into chunks, skewered them on sticks and arranged them around the flames.
Diarmuid sat on a blanket and began removing his boots. Should I sit next to him or on the other side of the fire? The stiffening of his shoulders indicated he had noticed my nearness but he feigned intense interest in his boots. That made up my mind. If Diarmuid wanted to pretend I didn't exist, I would sit right next to him. He said nothing as I sat on the blanket, but he edged over a little to give me room. I waited a minute or two but he obviously didn't intend to speak.
"Do you still see the ravens?" I asked.
Diarmuid started and, for a brief moment, actually looked directly at me. His face was pale and haggard with deep shadows around his eyes. He hadn't slept since he had captured Ida.
"I- What- How do you know about that?"
I shrugged and looked away into the fire. It had been more of a lucky guess than anything else but Diarmuid wouldn't know that. I
was being stubborn, as usual, for what good could come of forcing his acknowledgement? But my obstinate heart wanted to know that he saw me and as a woman, not a terrier.
"The ravens are still there," he said, at last. "Everywhere I look, I see them. They are Ida, or they are from her. I suppose it doesn't matter which. Either way, they are intended to remind me that she watches me. She's always watching."
"Is she secure?" I asked.
"She's locked away as securely as I can. Whether it will be enough, I don't know."
"What will happen if she gets loose again?"
He plucked a handful of grass and shredded it restlessly. "Fiachra said she might be able to take over my body. Maybe she won't want to, though. Maybe she will want to leave again. Fiachra thought that if she became strong enough to escape again, I might not be able to restrain her. And all of this will have been for nothing."
"It's not for nothing," I said, surprised at how fierce I sounded. "You did what you had to do, regardless of what happens in the future. Maybe that's enough for now."
"Do you think so?" Diarmuid looked at me with shining eyes. "Do you really think I've done enough to make up for what she did? The people she killed. The lives she ruined. The families she destroyed. They haunt me."
"Of course they do," I said, trying to soften my usual no-nonsense tone. "That means you care. There would be something wrong with you if it didn't haunt you."
"But I can never make it up to them."
"No," I said. "You can't. But what you can do is ensure she never gets loose again."
Diarmuid nodded but made no further reply. Rhiwallon began fussing with the roasting chunks of hare, turning them so they didn't burn. Fat dripped from them and sizzled in the flames, sending up an aroma that made my mouth water. Owain returned from taking care of the oxen and eased himself down onto a blanket on the other side of the fire. Such a familiar scene from our days of travel and yet at the same time, now so strange.
I missed Bramble with an intensity that surprised me. The steady balance of four paws. The pleasure of a wagging tail. The acute hearing and sensitive nose. The sniffs and barks and growls that she communicated with. The simplicity of needing nothing more than a meal, a warm basket and a kind hand to stroke your back. The freedom of returning an affectionate caress with a nuzzle of the head or the press of nose against skin.
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