Holder of Lightning tc-1

by S L Farrell Неизвестный Автор

  It's also true that dead men don't talk, if they'd been told to look the other way and their knowledge of who gave them the order was now a danger. The Ri Gabair has the money and the knowledge and the desire, as much as anyone here.

  She smiled blandly back at the Ri. "I appreciate your efforts, Ri Mal-laghan. Your concern for my well-being is gratifying."

  The Ri laughed at that, his body shaking under the fine clothing. There, you see, Nevan-as fine a response as any Riocha could have fashioned.

  Tiarna Mac Ard has taught the girl well."

  Jenna gave the Ri the expected smile, resisting the impulse to retort. Tiarna Mac Ard may have helped, but I taught myself more by listening to the

  lies I hear around me every day, she wanted to say. But she curtsied instead, as a Riocha would, and continued to smile.

  "The RI Ard is also concerned with your well-being," O Liathain said before Jenna could escape. "I have put the Ri Ard’s garrison here in Lar Bhaile at Ri Mallaghan’s disposal."

  "That is kind of you, Tanaise Rig," Jenna answered. "Some good has come of this incident, though. I’ve discovered that the stone I hold has greater and more varied powers than I’d thought. I may be able to dis-cover who my enemies are on my own." She touched Lamh Shabhala with the scarred, patterned flesh of her right hand, looking from O Liathain to Ri Mallaghan. "And I’m certain the Ri and the Ri Ard would allow me to exact my own retribution. Wouldn’t that be interesting?"

  The smile on O Liathain’s face wavered and for a moment Jenna won-dered if she’d gone too far, but Ri Mallaghan also frowned. "The laws are the laws," Ri Mallaghan intoned. "An accusation would need proof-and proof that I as Ri can see."

  Jenna inclined her head. "I’ve heard that the Ri Mallaghan has excellent methods for obtaining proof when it’s needed," she responded.

  The Ri snorted. "Taught well, indeed," he commented to O Liathain. Cianna drifted over to them before he could say more, with Tiarna Galen Aheron of Tuath Infochla accompanying her. Cianna touched Jenna’s shoulder and nodded to O Liathain’s abbreviated bow.

  "The servants tell me we should begin moving toward the table soon, my husband," she said, her voice too fast and colored with a slight wheeze. "Let me take the Holder for a few minutes before we sit. Here, Tiarna Aheron wishes to speak with you."

  "Certainly," the Ri answered. "Holder, I will speak with you later." Jenna curtsied to the Ri and O Liathain again, and let Cianna guide her away. O Liathain’s head moved toward the Ri’s ear before they were a step away, as Galen Aheron bowed to the Ri..

  "What did you say to the Tanaise Rig?" Cianna asked quietly as they moved through the crowd. "Poor Nevan looked as if he’d swallowed a fish bone."

  "I simply suggested to him that Lamh Shabhala might have ways of uncovering treachery," Jenna said. Cianna laughed at that, the laughter trailing away in a cough. She stopped, drawing Jenna into a corner of the hall.

  "I would be careful with what you claim, Jenna," she said. "It's not good to put an enemy on alert with a bluff."

  "I don't know who my enemies are, Banrion," Jenna answered. "I thought that I might find out-and I wasn't entirely bluffing."

  "Ah," Cianna said thoughtfully, nodding. She gestured at the room. "They're all your enemies, every one of them here," she said. "Even me, Jenna. Any of us would take the cloch and become the Holder, if we thought it would gain us power."

  "I think I can trust you, Banrion. Or you wouldn't have said what you just said."

  Cianna smiled. "Thank you, Jenna. But look at them. There are more plots there than leaves in the forest, and many of them concern you. In the last cycle, my husband was nearly killed himself when one of the ceil giallnai decided that he might increase his standing by allying with one of the Connachtan families. He managed to actually draw his blade at the table before he was cut down, not five feet from the Ri. Trust is a rare commodity here, Jenna. Don't take it lightly, and don't believe that it's eternal, either. Allegiances shift, friendships fade, love is ephemeral. Be careful."

  Jenna glanced worriedly at the throng, at the faces overlaid with smiles and politeness. "How do you stand it, Banrion?" she asked. "Doesn't it drive you mad?" The crowd parted momentarily, and through the silken rift, Jenna saw Tiarna Mac Ard across the room, with her mam at his side and a quartet of the Riocha women also surrounding him. Maeve looked uneasy in the midst of the other women, her smile lopsided as her atten-tion went from one to another of them, all of them obviously much more at ease and more skilled at the game of flirtation. Maeve's hand cradled her abdomen more than once. Jenna felt Cianna's gaze shift, following her eyes.

  "There are rules even in this, Jenna. You've already learned some of them; if you want to keep the stone and also stay alive, you must continue to learn. You think Padraic Mac Ard doesn't

  understand how our society works? He does, all too well. That’s why he doesn’t marry your mam-because marriage to him is another weapon, one that often can be used only once, so he won’t unsheathe it lightly."

  "He uses my mam, then," Jenna said heatedly.

  Cianna coughed, though it might have been a laugh. "I don’t doubt that Padraic also loves her, or he wouldn’t be so openly with her-he knows that his relationship with your mam dulls the blade of the marriage weapon, because it says that his true affection is elsewhere. He does love your mam, and that may have saved you as well, Jenna."

  You said to trust no one, and I wondered… I wondered if Tiarna Mac Ard sent the assassin."

  Jenna felt more than saw Cianna shake her head. "Mac Ard would take Lamh Shabhala if he could, I agree. But I know him well, and his person-ality is more suited to the frontal attack. He can be subtle when he needs to be, but when action must be taken, he prefers to do it himself and openly. I wouldn’t entirely trust him, if I were you, but I also doubt that the assassin was his man."

  Jenna wasn’t certain she was convinced, but she nodded her head in the direction of the Ri, still in conversation with O Liathain. "The Tanaise Rig, then," Jenna said, and watched Cianna purse her lips.

  "Possibly," she said. "Hiring someone to do his killing for him is more his style, certainly-he wouldn’t want to bloody his own hands. And through the Ri Ard, he has the money and connections; the assassin could have come from the east rather than the west. The Ri Ard used an assassin himself to kill his predecessor-or at least that’s the rumor-and Nevan is more ambitious than even his father. Holding Lamh Shabhala and being Ri Ard: that would place him in a very powerful position indeed."

  "You think it was him, then?"

  Cianna shrugged. "Possibly," she repeated. "Maybe even probably. But there are other contenders here: my husband is certainly one; Tiarna Ah-eron, whose uncle is Ri of Infochla and who has been snatching any re-puted clochs he can find, buy, or steal, is another. Jenna, any of the

  Riocha here could be the one."

  Jenna's head whirled. She'd taken anduilleaf a few hours ago; the effects were already starting to fade, and her arm throbbed with a promise of pain to come. She looked out at the crowd and saw skeletons and ghouls underneath the fine clothing and polite speech.

  A gong rang. "There, we're being called to table," Cianna said. "Come, walk with me. You will sit next to me tonight-we'll let Padraic move a seat farther down."

  "Banrion?"

  Cianna smiled. "Just a little object lesson, Jenna. Everyone will notice your elevation, though no one will say anything until afterward when they're alone. Even Mac Ard will gracefully make the shift, but he'll also see the message in it: that the Holder is now more important than the one who found her, and that what happens to you will be of intense concern to me." She coughed, and cleared phlegm from her voice. "That also means no one will question too much what you do, even if you should decide to consort with a simple harper."

  Jenna felt her cheeks flush. "Banrion, I… "

  "Oh, he's handsome enough, I'll grant you, and has talent for what he does. A little dalliance with him won't hurt you as long as y
ou take the proper precautions-I'll make sure the healer sends a packet of the right herbs to you. But he can't help you, Jenna, not in this. Tell me, is it true you knew this Coelin in Ballintubber?"

  "Aye, Banrion."

  Cianna nodded. "Convenient that he should arrive here in Lar Bhaile just at this moment, don't you think?" she asked, but she gave Jenna no chance to ponder that question or to try to answer. "Come. All the tiarna are seated by now. Time to give them something to contemplate… "

  "You were wonderful. The Ri and the Banrion were rapt-did you notice?"

  Jenna could see the grin tugging at the corners of Coelin's mouth as she complimented his performance. "Aye," he said. "I did. I thought I might forget some of the words, but they came back to me in time. The captain said that I might be

  asked to sing again at an entertainment for the Tanaise Rig in five days, and he gave me a gold morceint for the evening. That's more than I saw for months in Ballintubber." The grin spread, and Jenna impulsively reached up and kissed him. She started to pull away, but his arms went around her and he brought her close, cup-ping his hand around the back of her head. The kiss was long and deep, and Jenna wanted more, but it was late and the carriages were already waiting at the gates of the keep to take the extra servers and entertainers back down into the town. "Jenna, when can I see you again?"

  Stay, she wanted to say, but she remembered Banrion Cianna's admoni-tions, and there would be her mam's questions, and the pain in her arm was getting worse. . "The day after tomorrow," she said. "You know the market in Low Town? I'll meet you there, when they ring the bells after morning services at the Mother-Creator's temple."

  "I'll be there," he promised. He kissed her again, quickly this time, and held her hand-her left hand. He didn't touch the right. His fingers pressed against her. "The day after tomorrow will seem like forever before it comes," he said, and walked quickly away toward the gates across the courtyard. Jenna watched until he reached the gates and the gardai there pushed the inner door open. He went through, and she could hear that he was whistling. She smiled.

  As she turned to go back into the keep, she saw movement at one of the windows: a shutter swinging closed. She glimpsed a face in the win-dow just before the shutters pulled tight, shadowed in the dim light of the moon and the torches around the courtyard.

  Tiarna Mac Ard's face.

  Chapter 21: A Familiar Face

  "YOU will stay here with the carriage," she told the quartet of gardai Tiarna Mac Ard had sent with her. The protest was predictable, but when she

  invoked the Banrion’s name, they went sullenly silent. You see, she wanted to tell Cianna. You taught me well. I can play this game, too.

  Low Town Market was crowded today. Wagons had come in from the surrounding farms. There was little produce-the fields had long ago been harvested, but there were horses for sale, sheep brought in for slaughter, milk and eggs, pickled vegetables, dried herbs. A spice vendor in from the port at Dun Laoghaire had set up a display, and exotic aromas from the distant lands of Ceile Mhor and Thall Mor-roinn wafted through the chill air. The sun beat down, driving away the worst of the chill. There was little breeze, and the respite from the cold had brought out most of the townsfolk. Jenna was surrounded by the movement and noise, the color and odors. Some of the tiarna from Upper Town were here as well, and they nodded to her as they passed, no doubt wondering why the Holder was walking unescorted through the city.

  Jenna moved through the market, looking among the crowds for Coe-lin. The temple bells had rung as the carriage arrived at the market, but it would be easy to miss someone. She was beginning to wonder whether Coelin had forgotten her, and she closed her right hand around the cloch, remembering how Sinna had helped her. She let her awareness drift out-ward with the stone’s energy, seeing the crowd with the power and look-ing for the spark that would be Coelin. She could sense him, close by, and started to turn even as she heard his voice.

  "Jenna!"

  She turned to see him hurrying toward her. With a grin, he swept her and spun her around once, kissing her as she laughed. "I’ll bet you thought I’d forgotten," he said, wagging a finger in front of her face. She pretended to bite at it.

  "I did not," she answered. "I had perfect confidence in you."

  He snorted. "Hah! I saw your face when you turned." He glanced around. "I’m surprised they let you come here alone. I expected to see your mam, or servants at least. Armed and surly gardai, most likely, after what happened in your bedroom."

  "Armed gardai I had," she answered. "But I sent them away." No, they’re following. . The energy she’d released before was fading slowly, but within the expanded shell of awareness she could feel one of them. She turned her head, and saw a garda ducking quickly behind the spice ven-dor's stall. "Though they don't obey well. Don't look yet, but near the spice vendor's stall… "

  "Here, let's look at this cloth. ." Coelin took her arm and guided her over to the nearest stall, pretending to show her the dyed wool there. "Ah, aye. I see. You have a shadow, but not a very good one. Ring mail and leathers makes one conspicuous. Do you really want to lose him?"

  Jenna nodded, and Coelin took her left arm.

  "Come on, then," he said.

  With Coelin leading, they moved behind the stalls and into one of the alleys. Jenna could sense the garda's sudden consternation and feel him start to move through the crowd toward the stall where they'd been, but Coelin was running through a space between two houses, across a narrow courtyard, and on into another street. He paused, looking up and down the street and behind them.

  "You've lost him," she said to him.

  "How do you know?"

  "I know," she answered.

  He didn't question that. He simply smiled at her and kissed her again.

  We're alone, then." He glanced around at the people moving along the cobbled lane, most of whom were staring openly at Jenna, too well-dressed to be an occupant of one of these small, shabby dwellings. Away from the market square, the city had turned drab and dirty and crowded.

  The central gutter was choked with refuse, rotting garbage and excrement, and the fetid smell wrinkled Jenna's nose. The people were as shabby as their surroundings, dressed in rags and scraps of clothing. A child stared her from a nearby door, her feet wrapped in muddy rags, her hair matted and wild, though her eyes were dark and clear. She smiled tentatively at Jenna, who had to force herself to return the gesture. "Well, at least we're not where anyone knows you," Coelin finished. He gave a mock, sweeping bow. "And now where would you have me take you?"

  "Somewhere other than here."

  Coelin glanced around, and she realized that he saw nothing unusual: these were the streets where he lived, too, and he didn’t see the contrast, because he hadn’t lived as she had for the last few months. Jenna could feel herself recoiling in instinctive disgust and revulsion. She could not imagine having to live here-she would rather call on the power of the cloch and destroy it, to cleanse the earth in fire and storm. And she won-dered: Is this the way Tiarna Mac Ard felt, when he first walked into our little cottage back in Ballintubber? "There’s an apothecary I need to see," she told him. "Du Val, in Cat’s Alley."

  He glanced at her curiously, then shrugged. "Let’s go this way, then, to avoid the market."

  They approached du Val’s establishment from below the market. Jenna half expected to see one of the gardai standing outside the tiny shop, but none of these men had accompanied her on her first visit. A few dozen strides from the sign, she saw a man, dressed as a freelander, come out the doorway and turn away from her toward the market.

  She stopped, her hand on Coelin’s arm. "What?" he asked.

  "That man…" She knew him. Without seeing his face, she recognized the walk, the posture, the feel of him: Ennis O’Deoradhain, whom she’d last seen fleeing through the fields just across the River Duan near Ath Iseal. Jenna held her breath, wanting to duck into shadows and suddenly wishing that she hadn’t dismissed the gardai. Her hand w
ent around Lamh Shabhala; if the man had turned, if he’d seen her and started toward her, she would have used the cloch and struck him down.

  But he didn’t turn, didn’t seem to notice her at all.

  "What about him?" Coelin asked. "Who is he?"

  Jenna shook her head. O’Deoradhain was hurrying away, already at the end of the lane where it opened into the Low Town Market. "When…after we left Ballintubber, we met that man. I think he was part of the group of Connachtans who were pursuing us." And if he’s here in Lar Bhaile, if he’s snooping around after me, then chances are he’s the one who sent the assassin. .

  "Well, let’s go after him, then," Coelin said, starting to pursue O’Deoradhain, but Jenna held

  him back.

  "No " she told him. "He's already too far away, and he may have friends with him. Let's talk to du Val."

  The shop was as pungent and dark as before, but du Val was in the front bent over one of his tables with a mortar and pestle, grinding a small pinch of plant material into a powder. The dwarfish man glanced up as Jenna and Coelin entered, and grunted.

  "It's not even been a month," he called out without preamble. "Well, this time the price is four morceints, as I told you. And six the next time."

  Jenna was glad for the dimness of the shop, so that Coelin could not see the flush that crept up her neck. "I hear you," she said. "Just get it."

  Du Val sniffed. He set the pestle on the table with a loud clunk. His ugly, craggy face seemed to leer at her for a moment, then he turned and went back into the recesses of the shop. Jenna wondered what Coelin was thinking, seeing her spend four morceints without a thought when he had been ecstatic to have received one the other night. She didn't dare look at him while they waited. Du Val returned in a few minutes with a pouch, which he extended to Jenna, palm up. When she reached to take it, he pulled his hand back. "Five morceints," he said.

  "You told me four."

  One robed shoulder lifted and fell. "1 changed my mind between then and now. Maybe the price will make you change yours about taking this, but if not,