Owaine would watch until he could no longer see the boat-that would not be long, since his eyes were shortsighted and everything quickly became a blur-then he'd go exploring before his mam called him back to the cottage up the hill. Usually, he scrambled around the clear tidal pools that collected between the black rocks, trying to catch the small bait fish that were sometimes trapped as the tide went out, or poking at the mussels and clams. Sometimes he'd come across odd pres-ents the sea had tossed up on the shore for him to find: a boot lost by some fisherman; a battered wooden float from a fishing net; strange, whorled shells with enameled, sunset-pink interiors; driftwood polished by the waves and twisted into wondrous shapes.
Today Dwaine walked to the north side of their small beach, to where the waves broke against the rocky feet of the Inishfeirm. The wind was cold; the salt spray wet his hair and made him blink. Mam wouldn't let him stay out long today; he knew she'd be calling him back to help her and his two sisters: there was butter to be churned and the chickens to be fed. He half-slid, half-crawled along the rocky shoreline, wet to his thighs He thought he heard the call of seals just beyond a screen of boulders and he clambered over to them to see. Once his brothers had said they'd seen a family of blue seals on the shore, but Swain hadn't been there that day. Blue seals occasionally visited the island, he knew, and it would be exciting to glimpse them, since they were so rare. Bragging about it after-ward to his brothers would be best, though. . Maybe he could make it sound even more exciting than it was.
Dwaine pulled himself up the surf-slick face of the last boulder. Beyond was another tiny rocky beach. He caught a blurred glimpse of black fur sparkled with blue fire, but then movement at his end of the beach caught his eye. He gasped and nearly fell from his perch.
A young woman was standing there, walking out of the water. She was naked, her black hair hanging in wet, dripping strings, her body sheened with water. She seemed exhausted and her right arm appeared to be in-jured, scarred and hanging limp at her side. She wore a silver chain around her neck, with a pendant swinging between small breasts. To Dwaine, she seemed to be perhaps a little older than his sisters.
A naked lady on the beach was going to be a far better tale than blue seals, but he wondered if anyone was going to believe him.
He must have made a noise, for her head turned and she looked at him. "Don’t be frightened," she said, the words accompanied by a soft smile. Her voice sounded hoarse, as if she hadn’t used it for a long time. She made no attempt to cover herself; she didn’t seem to notice her nudity at all. She cleared her throat. "This is Inishfeirm, isn’t it?"
He nodded, wide-eyed.
"Good. I wasn’t certain, since I couldn’t see the White Keep from this side, but that’s what they said it was. Do you have a cottage near here?"
They? Dwaine wondered who she might mean but decided not to ask. Instead, he nodded solemnly.
"What’s your name?"
"Dwaine." He blinked as the apparition took a few steps toward him. He crouched, ready to jump down from the boulder and run. The woman walked gingerly, the way Dwaine did when he sat too long with his legs under him and they were all tingly and heavy. He decided he could stay where he was. "Dwaine Geraghty. Who are you?"
"My name’s Jenna. I need to go to the White Keep. Do you know it Moister Cleurach has
Dwaine shook his head. He'd heard that name, of course-everyone on Inishfeirm knew it-but his family had little to do with the White Keep and the cloudmages. He'd seen a few of the acolytes, even talked to them a bit when they bought the fish his da brought to the market, but he'd never seen the old Moister, who-his brothers and sisters all told him-was a cross and nasty man who sometimes liked to beat the acolytes with willow branches, just for fun. They told him other more imaginative and awful things about the keep and the Brathairs and their Moister and what happened to the acolytes there, but Dwaine wasn't sure how much to believe since, after all, none of his siblings had ever actually been to the White Keep. Still, some of it might be true and Dwaine couldn't imag-ine why anyone would want to meet Moister Cleurach, who seemed to be part monster.
Of course, this woman could be a monster herself, which might explain her appearance. . But the woman smiled again, and she didn't seem dangerous at all. "Don't worry, it's all right," she said. "How about you-do you have a home near here? Is your mam there?"
"She's back there in the cottage." Dwaine pointed to the whitewashed walls just visible high up in the green hills.
"Will you take me to her?" She seemed to have realized her state for the first time, one hand covering her breasts, her scarred and stiff-looking right hand over the dark fleece at the joining of her legs. "I suppose I need some clothes… "
Being in the White Keep reminded Jenna achingly of Ennis. She almost sobbed, seeing her own tiny room again. But Moister Cleurach arrived not a minute after the wide-eyed acolyte closed the door behind himself.
"I didn't think I would see you again, frankly," he said without pre-amble.
"I'm pleased to see you again, too, Moister."
He sniffed at that. He stared at her, his eyes dark under the white-haired line of his brows. "The rumors are flying through the keep that you've returned from Thall Coill, that you appeared naked on the shore in a blaze of sorcerous light, that you
passed the Scrudu and now under-stand the deepest places within Lamh Shabhala."
One corner of her mouth lifted. "I've returned from Thall Coill. The rest. ." She shrugged.". . are just rumors."
"What happened?"
She wasn't certain that she wanted to tell him. But once she started, she found that there was a catharsis in telling him all that had happened since they'd parted ways after Glenn Aill. Moister Cleurach let her talk occasionally interjecting a question to clarify some point. An acolyte came in with a lunch of bread, fruit, and water, then left. She told him every-thing except the fact that she was pregnant.
She didn't know why she kept that back, only that it felt right to do so
Moister Cleurach listened, then grunted. "I still don't understand," he said. "Why did this An Phionos not kill you as it did Peria?"
She'd prepared a lie for that, knowing the question would come. "We fought to a draw," she said. "I wasn't able to defeat An Phionos, but nei-ther did it have the power left to kill me."
"Hmm…" Moister Cleurach ran fingers along his bearded jaw. "And you have the changeling blood, too. Like Ennis."
The mention of the name made her blink. "Aye," Jenna answered. "Or I wouldn't be here and Lamh Shabhala would be lost in the ocean."
"I doubt it." He plucked a slice of apple from the tray and chewed it thoughtfully. "Lamh Shabhala has a way of finding its own path to a Holder. By now, someone else would have found it washed up on a shore, or in the gullet of someone's fish dinner." He swallowed. "I've already sent word to Dun Kiil that you've returned."
Jenna nodded. "I thought you would. So the Banrion's back there? Is she well? Is there word about the Ri Ard and the Tuatha? Mac Ard?"
"Nothing about Mac Ard," he answered, "but we hear that the Rl Ard and his son have gone to Tuatha Gabair, Airgialla, Connachta, and Infochla, and sent messages to Locha Lein and Eoganacht as
well. Mundy Kirwan-you remember him; Ennis’ friend-is strong with the slow mag-ics, and he has felt Clochs Mor gathering near Falcarragh. I think the war comes soon; the Comhairle agrees with me. And that makes me wonder. Why did you come back here, Jenna?"
"I don’t know," she answered honestly. "I thought… I thought it was the only place I belonged right now."
"Then you’ll fight with Inish Thuaidh."
The memory of Thraisha’s foretelling came to Jenna again, as it had an too often over the last days. . You stood there alone, and you called lightning down from the skies with Lamh Shabhala, but other sky-stones were there also, held by the hard-shelled ones, and they gathered against you. I was there, too, but I was too jar away and others’ clochs were set against me and couldn’t reach you.
You looked for help, but even though those with you held sky-stones of their own, they were beset themselves, and none came to your aid. 1 saw you fall. .
"This is my home. This was Ennis’ home. And I know that my presence is the reason for the war if it comes." Jenna shrugged. "I didn’t choose this path, Moister. But it seems to be the one I have to walk."
Moister Cleurach grunted again. "Then I’ll do my best to make you ready for it," he told her. "We can start today."
She hadn’t been certain what she wanted, but Moister Cleurach certainly had no such doubts. He immediately resumed his role as Jenna’s mentor in her studies of the cloudmage art. Most of that time was spent in the library, as Moister Cleurach set Brathair Maher to pulling out dusty and half-crumbling rolls of ancient parchment. There were exercises and med-itations; reading and history lessons; the beginning of her study in the slow magics of earth and water.
Jenna fell into the routine almost gratefully. It allowed her no time to think, the work kept her mind occupied and held the grief and worry at arm’s length, at least during the days. The nights were a different matter. She didn’t sleep well, despite the exhaustion of the days and the mage-lights’ nightly call. Then the ghosts threatened to overwhelm her as she cried with her head buried in her pillow,
seeing Ennis' face or Seancoim's. She clutched her stomach where the first flutterings of life quickened. She listened to the calls of the seals far down the jagged cliffs of Inishfeirm, and wondered whether Thraisha was out there somewhere, even though she couldn't feel her with Lamh Shabhala.
But the days. . The days she could tolerate.
". . and as you see, Severii claims that even when Lamh Shabhala seems to be devoid of energy, there is still a reservoir of power within it, one that he was unable to tap. Which is what he thought was the place that would be opened through the Scrudu-"
Moister Cleurach stopped, causing Jenna-seated next to him looking at the mostly undecipherable marks on the yellowed roll of parch-ment-to glance up. An acolyte cleared his throat from the doorway of the library; behind him, another figure lurked. "Moister," the acolyte began, but Moister Cleurach was already on his feet.
"Banrion," he said. "This is a surprise."
Aithne gave a cough of laughter. "Then you don't know me well at all, Moister. Holder Jenna, it's good to see you again. I wanted to give you my condolences on the death of your friend Seancoim.
It must have been terrible, losing two people so close to you in such a short space of time." The sadness in her voice seemed genuine, as did the sympathy on her face. "And I also wanted to welcome you back." She held her hand out to
Jenna, who took it. Aithne's fingers pressed against hers. "I was afraid I would never see you again," Aithne said. "I knew when we woke that morning and found you gone that you'd taken the path to Thall Coill Come, walk with me a bit and tell me about it. Moister Cleurach’s dry reports are fine, but I'd like to hear your own words. Moister, if you don't mind… "
Jenna didn't particularly want to relive any of it again, but she could think of no way to politely refuse. Leaving Moister Cleurach and the li-brary, the Banrion walked with Jenna along the stone corridors of the White Keep, her two gardai accompanying them just out of earshot.
They walked for a few minutes, hand in hand, Aithne telling Jenna about their own trek back from Glenn Aill and the response of the Comhairle to the
news of Aron’s treachery.". . My own best guess is that my brother, Tiarna Mac Ard, and the others with them have left Inish Thuaidh and slipped the net of ships we placed around the island. They’re proba-bly in Falcarragh with the Ri Ard by now."
They’d come to the bronze doors cast in the shapes of the mage-lights: the Temple of the Founder. Aithne pushed the doors open and they en-tered. Six acolytes were there with a Brathair of the Order, who bowed to the Banrion and Jenna and quickly escorted his charges out of the room. The Banrion and Jenna walked down between the twin rows of marble columns as they exited, approaching the immense statue of Tadhg O’Coulghan. He seemed to watch them advance, his right hand raised as if he were about to cast the power of Lamh Shabhala down at them from the mage-lights swirling in the painted dome above him. They stopped just under the dome, with Tadhg looming above them.
"How long has it been?" Aithne asked.
Jenna’s brows wrinkled, puzzled. "Banrion?"
Aithne pressed her fingertips against Jenna’s abdomen, gently. Jenna flushed, and the Banrion smiled. "Sometime dry reports have buried nug-gets. You came here with nothing, and among the documents Moister Cleurach sent was a list of everything you’d been given, a quite detailed list. What was interesting to me was what wasn’t there: no sponges, no cloths. A surprising omission for a young woman who should be expect-ing her monthly bleeding. I wasn’t certain, though, until I saw you." The Banrion chuckled softly. The sound reverberated from the dome. "How long?"
"Two months, Banrion. Nearly three." Jenna sighed-with the admis-sion, a surprising sense of relief washed through her; she hadn’t realize how much it had pained her to have no one in whom to confide.
"Is Ennis the da?"
Jenna nodded. "So Moister Cleurach knows as well?"
"Actually, I doubt it. He didn’t mention anything in the reports, I didn’t speak to him about my suspicions, and he’s not… as observant about these things. I didn’t know until I saw you, and even then
I wasn't certain. Your condition isn't really visible yet, but I see a slight curve to your stomach where there was none before, and I doubt that the Order is feeding you that well." She smiled. "Combined with the rest. . The question now is what to do about it. My healer has potions that can start your bleeding again even at this point, if that is what you want."
Jenna was shaking her head before the Banrion finished. "No," she answered. "This is all I have left of Ennis. I… can't."
Aithne nodded. "I thought that would be your answer. Do you remem-ber Tiarna Kyle MacEagan of the Comhairle?" Jenna nodded, recalling the short, stocky man who with the Banrion and Kianna Ciomhsog controlled the Comhairle. "He and I have been good friends for many years," Aithne continued. "I like the man-he's a good person, wise and quick-witted. He knows when to speak and when to hold back what he knows. He's also. . unmarried."
Jenna started to protest, realizing what Aithne intended to suggest, but the Banrion held up a hand. "Let me finish," she said. "Tiarna MacEagan. . well, let us simply say that he doesn't have any interest in our gender beyond friendship. A marriage between the two of you would legitimize both you and your son or daughter. He would be a good father as well as a guide and companion for you. You would have as much leverage over him as he would have with you: he wouldn't care if, in time, you have other lovers as long as you gave him the same freedom. And he would acknowledge as his own any children that came as a result."
Twin knots of tension burned in the corners of Jenna's jaws, clamped tight as Aithne spoke. The gardai stood near the door of the room, talking softly among themselves and carefully looking away. No! she wanted to shout. No! This is not what I want. But she pressed her lips shut, taking a breath and glaring at the face of Tadhg high above. "And you, Banrion," Jenna asked. "What do you get out of this?"
Aithne nodded as if in satisfaction. "You learn well, Holder. Aye, I'll benefit from this arrangement, also. It keeps the Holder of Lamh Shabhala bound to Dun Kiil and Inish Thuaidh. It means that Tiarna MacEagan, Bantiarna Ciomhsog and I will have an even stronger hold on the Com-hairle. It means that
you will fight with us against the Ri Ard, because that time’s coming very soon. I wanted to strike first, as you recall. I still believe that would have been the best strategy, but that time’s past. The invasion will come well before the Festival of Gheimhri. There isn’t much time." She looked meaningfully at Jenna’s cloca. "There isn’t much time for you to make your decision, either, Holder. Soon enough your secret will be… obvious and then Tiarna MacEagan would no longer be able to make the offer."
"You’ve already broached this with Tiarna MacEagan?"
"No. But I’m confident his thinking will be the same as mine." The Banrion reached out and touched Jenna’s hair, stroking it gently. "He’s truly a good person, Jenna," she said. "If you allow it, he could be a loyal friend even though you never share a bed. I made certain that Moister Cleurach gave him the Cloch Mor of the fire-creature you destroyed at Glenn Aill, and he is learning to use it. He could be an excellent ally if you have political desires. I know that you say you don’t, but that may change in time. You could do far, far worse for a husband Do this now in the next few weeks, and no one will question that the child is his-it will simply come early, as some children do. But if you wait. ." Aithne shrugged.
Ennis. . Jenna’s thoughts whirled, confused. I miss you so much. . What do I do? Jenna started to speak, then stopped. She backed away from the Banrion, pacing around the base of the statue. "I can’t give you an answer," she said. "Not here. Not right now."
"You already have," Aithne answered. "You haven’t said ’no.’ Think about this conversation, Jenna. I will be here for another day, perhaps two. I’ve come to tell Moister Cleurach that he must bring the Brathairs of the Order to Dun Kiil along with the few clochs na thintri they hold so that we can prepare for the Ri Ard’s invasion. We could go back together, meet with Tiarna MacEagan, and make the announcement to the Comhairle." Aithne sighed, her face soft with sympathy. "This is a lot to put on your shoulders, which have already borne more than their share of pain. I know that, Jenna. I don’t mean this to sound as cold as it will, but Ennis is gone forever. We can’t bring him back. I think he would understand this and approve, because it’s best for you." She gestured at Lamh Shabhala. "I
know that you can hear the old Holders. Listen to them. How many of them have done the same thing I'm asking you to consider?"
Jenna remembered Banrion Cianna's words to her back in Lar Bhaile that seemed so long ago now, though it had been less than year-regarding Tiarna Mac Ard's reluctance to marry Maeve: ". . marriage to him is another weapon…" Even Ennis had said it once: ". . They would tell you that the Holder of Lamh Shabhala should use marriage as a tool, to be utilized when it's most advantageous."
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