The Well of Shades

by Juliet Marillier

  Drustan nodded gravely. “Without Deord I would quickly have run mad. I don’t know if Faolan told you, but… there is a particular reason I find confinement hard to tolerate. I possess the ability to go between forms; to transform from man to bird and back again. These creatures are, in a sense, parts of me.” He indicated the crow and the other bird, which he had told her was a crossbill, foraging in the undergrowth close to Saraid, who was showing Sorry some beetles. “It is both a gift and a curse. It was through this oddity that my brother was able to accuse me of a crime I had not committed and label me mad. Ana and I have still to confront the shadow of that when we return to the north.”

  “You’re the least mad person I’ve ever met,” Eile said. “Apart from Faolan, that is.”

  Ana grinned as her betrothed translated this. She spoke softly to him. The sunlight, filtering down through the canopy of new spring green, touched her golden hair to a brightness that seemed almost magical. Her voice was low and gentle, her gray eyes full of a deep calm. Eile wished she could talk to her directly, without the need for translation. Ana might be of royal blood and dauntingly beautiful, but there was a realness, an honesty about her that suggested they could become friends. It was ever clearer to Eile why Faolan loved this woman; who would not?

  Drustan said, “Ana says you seem unsurprised by what I have told you. Some folk find it unsettling.”

  “That you are a—what’s the right word?—a shape-shifter? I think it’s wonderful. I would so love to be able to fly. That’s a kind of freedom I can hardly imagine.”

  Ana said something to Drustan. Her tone alerted Eile to a change in the conversation. She heard the other woman say her name.

  “What?” she asked sharply.

  “Ana says it’s time we put something to you, Eile, and I agree. We wondered if you had given any thought to the future.”

  “What kind of question is that? I have a three-year-old child. Of course I’ve considered the future.”

  “What path do you see for yourself and Saraid, after White Hill?”

  “After…” Eile felt a chill creep over her, the familiar cold breath of change. “I’m not sure. I’d have to talk to Faolan.”

  Drustan and Ana exchanged a glance.

  “What?” demanded Eile, aware of something unspoken, something she wasn’t going to like.

  “Eile,” said Drustan, “if you wished to come with us to Caitt territories, Ana and I would be very happy to take you. You’re Deord’s daughter; we both had the deepest respect for him. You and Saraid could have a permanent home with us at Dreaming Glen. That is my own landholding on the west coast, a remote and beautiful location. It is a fine place for a child to grow up in, quiet, safe, full of good people. My brother changed it somewhat with his boats and his warriors, but I will restore it to its old peace. Ana and I have decided to travel down the lakes and up the coast to Dreaming Glen first, to settle in there and establish a strong base. Only then will I venture to what was my brother’s holding and set that household to rights. We’d like you to come with us. Ana would welcome the companionship. I’d be honored to have this opportunity to repay the debt we owe your father.”

  “Oh.” Eile had not expected this, even though Faolan had once or twice referred to some arrangement of the kind. “It’s a lot to offer. You don’t even know me.” There was a confusion of feelings in her. Not so long ago she would have thought this a wonderful dream come true: safety, an end to arbitrary changes, friendly people, no more desperate struggles to keep her daughter fed and warm and secure. A future: a real one. She knew these were good people; they were Faolan’s friends, weren’t they? All the wise arguments pointed to yes. Yet there was some part of her that said, instantly and without logic, no. It was a part she could not disregard. “Thank you,” she said. “Your generosity is… overwhelming. But I can’t.”

  Neither Drustan nor Ana said anything. It was obvious that Ana had understood the negative without need for translation. They looked rather sad but not surprised.

  “I’m sorry,” Eile said. “I can’t even say why; I can see this would be good for Saraid. But I know I can’t do it. You talked about repaying debts. I’ve got one of my own; if I go away, I can’t ever repay it.” She knew Faolan did not expect his silver back; she had hardly thought of the éraic in recent times. But going off and leaving him behind felt profoundly wrong.

  “You might perhaps take time to consider it,” Drustan suggested. “We’ll be staying at White Hill a little so that Ana can see her sister.”

  “And for the wedding,” Eile said, thinking how painful that was going to be for Faolan.

  “That, too, although I believe we may disappoint some people. We intend to keep our handfasting small and private. Bridei and Tuala will understand. Ana and I have no liking for grand celebrations.” And, translating when Ana spoke, “We seem to have moved beyond the need for such events. Besides, in our own eyes and in those of the gods, we know we are already true husband and wife.”

  Eile nodded, thinking what unusual folk they were and how it was a shame she would not have time to get to know them better. “I don’t need to consider it,” she said. She hoped they would not think her ungrateful. “I can’t come.”

  “That’s what we expected you to say.” That was Ana. Drustan smiled as he rendered the words into Gaelic. Then Ana said something else to him and his smile faded. They seemed to dispute whatever it was; Eile heard Ana say Faolan’s name.

  “Tell me,” she said. “What about Faolan? He did speak of the possibility that Saraid and I might stay with some friends of his; maybe it was you he meant.”

  The two of them were looking at her now. She wasn’t sure what those expressions meant. They were sorry for her? They didn’t want to upset her? They weren’t sure how much to tell? With a tight feeling in her belly, Eile glanced at Saraid to make sure she was out of easy earshot, then said, “Tell me, whatever it is.”

  “This will be best back at the house,” Drustan said. “Ana and I need to discuss it first.”

  “Now, Drustan,” said Ana in Gaelic.

  “Very well. Eile, Faolan asked us if we’d assume the role of guardians to you. He wanted us to take you north with us. He pressed us to give him that assurance before he left. He’s very concerned for your welfare.”

  Eile was momentarily unable to reply. She told herself this was entirely reasonable; that it was much better than she should have expected. She stared at the ground, willing herself to act as Ana would do under the same circumstances: like a lady. “Thank you for telling me the truth,” she said. Her voice came out tight and wounded; she couldn’t control that. “So you said yes. An obligation to my father. Faolan’s done his share and he’s passing over the responsibility.”

  “Our offer was made in a genuine wish to welcome you and your daughter into our household,” Drustan said. “Certainly we owe Deord a debt none of us can ever fully repay. But once we met you and once we knew your circumstances, Ana and I would have made our offer whether Faolan had asked or not. We thought highly of your father. We like and respect you.”

  Ana put in a few words, her grave eyes all the while fixed on Eile. Not pitying; more assessing. Eile liked that look much better than the earlier one.

  “Ana says you assume we said yes to Faolan. In fact, we gave him no answer. Ana told him the decision must be entirely up to you. If you chose not to come with us we would respect your choice, and so must he.”

  “Oh.” Eile considered this. Faolan was not the sort of man folk gave orders to. Perhaps Ana was the one exception.

  “After he left, Ana and I discussed this at some length. Ana says we should tell you that both of us believe you’ve made the right decision.”

  Ana was stamping her foot in frustration, gesturing, unable to find the words she wanted.

  “She says it’s annoying she cannot talk to you woman to woman, in private. I believe she wants to tell you something out of my hearing. I’m afraid it must wait; nobody else here i
s fluent in Gaelic.”

  They began to walk back toward the house. Eile was feeling very odd, as if she’d been on the verge of falling and had been saved by something quite unexpected. As if she’d been picked up and set back on the path, although perhaps it was a different path now. She had no idea where it led, and yet she felt better.

  “You said you’d learned about my circumstances,” she said. “How much did he tell you?” Let him not have spoken of Dalach. Or of the éraic. Or, most treacherously, of the request she had made of him, the one he said had made him feel honored. Almost certainly that was what had tipped the balance and made him decide to get rid of her.

  “He was tight-lipped with the details,” said Drustan. “It is plain you were very young when you had your daughter. Faolan told us both you and he had to leave Erin because of an ongoing threat to your safety. He told us your mother was dead; that you had experienced great hardship and dealt with it bravely, as he’d expect from Deord’s daughter. That was as much as he was prepared to tell. He believes you and Saraid will be better off with a family; with someone who can provide stability for you. He’s told you what his profession is, I imagine?”

  Eile’s lips twisted. “Officially, the king’s bodyguard. Unofficially, a bit more, but I’m not going to talk about that. A family, eh? It sounds sensible. Like the nice young man he keeps talking about, the one I’m going to meet some day.”

  Drustan glanced at her with a smile. Ana had bent down to admire some flowers; Saraid was counting the petals. “Look, Sorry,” the child said, “little stars.”

  “Drustan,” Eile said, “why do you think it’s the right choice? I don’t even know what’s going to happen at White Hill. I can’t speak the language. I can’t really do much except look after Saraid and perform servants’ work. Why bring me all the way here just for that? I mean, he did make a promise, but there’d have been easier ways to fulfill it.”

  Drustan translated for Ana; her reply was a question. “Will you tell us what the promise was?”

  “That he’d stay with me until I didn’t need him anymore.” She could not keep the regret from her voice. It was plain to her, now, that Faolan’s understanding of the promise had not been the same as hers.

  Ana spoke again.

  “She says,” said Drustan, “it’s a pity you cannot ask Faolan whether he believes he needs you. Being that man’s friend is like watching over a person lost in a maze. The turns are many and complex; he is surrounded by shadowy corners, by dead ends, by tricks and traps. Some of them are of his own making. If you would be his friend, you need to stay by him even when he orders you to leave him. It’s not an easy path. Far simpler to bid him good-bye and go your own way.”

  It made an odd sort of sense to Eile.

  “He did tell us,” Drustan added, “that you were not the kind of girl to choose the easy path.”

  THEY HAD TESTED the druid beyond pain. Day and night had blurred into a single, continuous waking. His eyes fell on the familiar and found it alien. He lost names; objects no longer made sense to him. Sound was ephemeral and insignificant, or immediate and terrifying. The call of a forest creature became a dark summons to death; the trickle of a stream echoed the draining away of intellect, of consciousness, of self. He was a stone rolling before the inevitability of the river. He was a feather borne here and there by random winds. He was a bough of rowan awaiting the touch of devouring flame. At the last, when bone and sinew had been driven and stretched and hammered, when eyes and ears no longer perceived shape and sound as before but knew only a wild continuum of being, when from a winter’s torment his mind emerged, swept clean and bare, he was a still pool: a vessel for the will of the Shining One. I am ready, the druid said.

  BRIDEI AND FAOLAN were standing on the parapet wall at White Hill with Garth keeping watch at a discreet distance. The sun was setting over the Great Glen, edging a tumble of clouds with rose and crimson. It was a measure of Faolan’s particular place in the king’s circle that Bridei had excused himself from the company of Keother, among others, to seek an immediate and confidential meeting with his newly arrived bodyguard.

  There had been no embrace; Bridei knew better than to offer one, though he considered Faolan his closest friend. Greetings were exchanged, the wish that each was in good health. Bridei provided the news of Anfreda’s arrival; Faolan offered congratulations. Then it was down to business.

  On both sides the news was worrying. Colmcille was already on the shores of Dalriada and, in Faolan’s considered opinion, likely to head for White Hill sooner rather than later. Carnach was apparently plotting some kind of coup, or at the very least a serious challenge to the king. Broichan absent; Keother and his young cousin at court. The most experienced of jugglers finds so many extra balls a challenge.

  While Faolan talked, Bridei wondered how much he could ask about his right-hand man’s journey. Had Faolan seen his family? Resolved whatever it was he’d had to deal with there? Faolan’s expression was a well-governed mask. His dark eyes were guarded. Whatever had occurred during the time away, his self-control appeared intact.

  “We must choose our priority,” Bridei said. “You and I, that is. I’ll have Aniel call a select meeting for tomorrow. Fola’s here; that’s fortunate in view of Broichan’s continuing absence. We’ll put this to them. Faolan, my instincts are pulling me in a certain direction. I want to know if you agree.”

  “Before I give you my opinion, tell me what the situation is with Broichan. If the Christians decide to make you a visit while these other issues remain unresolved, you’ll need your druid to deal with Colm. I understand Broichan disappeared, leaving no word of where he was headed.”

  “We’ve heard nothing. He seems to have vanished from Fortriu entirely. Were it not for Tuala’s visions, we’d have believed him dead. She remains confident that he’ll come back.”

  “He’d want to hurry,” observed Faolan drily.

  “Tuala’s instincts are sound. He’ll be here in time, unless these Christians possess wondrous powers of transportation.”

  “Colm knows how to sail. I can’t say the same for the rest of them.”

  Bridei folded his arms, leaning his back against the wall. “If you were in my shoes, what would you do first?” he asked quietly. “Speak freely.”

  For the first time Faolan seemed hesitant.

  “What is it?” Bridei asked.

  “Nothing. I believe we have a little time, not much, but perhaps sufficient for your druid to make his way back to White Hill before Colmcille decides to head up the Glen. Keother we can deal with; he’s here, right under our noses, and that should keep him out of trouble. The girl probably isn’t important. Keother knows she may be the next hostage. He knows we expect his best behavior. Let us hope it shames him to be the only leader not recognized for a contribution to last autumn’s war. You must still hold your victory feast. Cancel that, and you offend your chieftains and disappoint their families. It would be taken as a sign of indecision. In view of your choice not to seek the crown of Circinn, it could be seen as weakness.”

  “Go on.” Thank the gods for Faolan, Bridei thought. There was nobody else so astute, or so prepared to advise his king in total honesty. He realized anew how badly he had missed his friend.

  “I see the matter of Carnach as the greatest threat,” Faolan said, “the one crying out for our immediate attention. When I first heard of this rebellion I found it hard to believe. Carnach a traitor? Carnach whom we know and respect so well? If he’s done this, it must be with a heavy heart; he loves Fortriu and I would have sworn his loyalty to you was unflinching. But now you tell me there have been other rumors along the same lines as the one I heard, tales brought from many quarters. Someone must go and find out the truth. Not a large party of armed warriors; not an official emissary such as Tharan or Aniel. Someone who can slip by unnoticed.”

  Faolan stood relaxed, features calm. All the same, there was a tension there that Bridei could almost feel. The silence drew ou
t.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Wrong? You mean, other than the weighty matters we’ve just set out?” Faolan’s brows lifted.

  Bridei spoke carefully, choosing each word. Negotiating a conversation with Faolan on personal matters required a degree of skill that was often beyond even him. “I notice you don’t immediately volunteer your services. Both of us know this requires your particular expertise. I recognize that you’ve only just returned from a lengthy absence. But the need to go straight from one mission to the next has never stopped you before.”

  Faolan did not respond. He was staring into the distance as if he had not heard.

  “Perhaps you’re not aware,” Bridei went on, “that Ana’s and Drustan’s wedding is to take place in the near future, just before the victory feast. Broichan’s absence delayed it. I imagine, based on your attitude last autumn, that you will not wish to be at White Hill for the handfasting.”

  “I know about the wedding. I saw them at Pitnochie.” Faolan’s expression forbade further probing. “I’ll go, of course. How soon?”

  “I want you here for tomorrow’s meeting,” Bridei said. “It will be small. Only those men and women in whom I have unconditional trust. You’ll need a couple of nights’ rest before you leave. One of the fellows who brought news is still here; you may wish to hear his account.”

  “I don’t require rest. I’ll go as soon as you need me to go.”