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Authors: Juliet Marillier

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BOOK: Blade of Fortriu
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“It was my choice to travel with this number,” he said. “They’re all
handpicked. She’ll be quite safe.”
“Don’t underestimate the importance of what you’re conveying, lad,” Ged said, regarding him thoughtfully.
“When it comes to it,” said Faolan, unable to keep a certain tightness from his voice, “she’s just a woman. We’re all expendable.”
“Nonsense. Taking that young lady from White Hill to Briar Wood is just like escorting a cargo of gold pieces or a chest
of precious jewels. In fact it’s even more important, and certainly more perilous. If what you tell me is true, Alpin’s a major threat to our cause. The ties of kinship conferred by this marriage will give the fellow a status he could never have dreamed of. In addition, Ana’s personal charms are—let’s say, well above run-of-the-mill. There’s no doubt in my mind that this’ll win Alpin over. The girl’s
literally worth her weight in gold, Faolan. More, in fact, since she’s a slight thing. Expendable? Hardly. The job’s vital. That’s why Bridei gave it to you, no doubt.”
Faolan took a deep breath. His personal feelings about the commission were irrelevant. He had expressed them to Bridei in private; to speak of them elsewhere would be disloyal. He’d agreed to it and he would do it. Perfectly.
“He did, and he trusted me to judge what security was required. Ten men are sufficient. I anticipate being back at White Hill by Midsummer at the latest. The return trip, without the women, will be considerably quicker, of course.”
“Of course.” Ged was still watching him closely, as if not quite convinced by any of it. “And you’ll be eager to get back. Tell me, does the young lady know what’s
planned for the autumn?”
“It’s safer for her not to know. Strategic reasons, Bridei told her, requiring us to move in haste. She does understand that Alpin could swing either way. Wisely, she asked very few questions.”
“Hmm,” said Ged. “I find myself somewhat in sympathy with young Ana. She’s a good girl. She deserves better than this.”
Faolan said nothing.
“We can supply you, at least,” Ged
said. “Dried meat, cheeses, whatever your pack animals can carry. You do know you won’t be able to ride all the way? Parts of the track will require your men to lead the horses, and the women will have to walk. If things had been different, you could have taken her the low way, along the lakes and over by Five Sisters. Still, you wouldn’t want to run into someone’s army coming in the other direction.
A momentous season, this should be. Who’d have thought Bridei would make his move so soon, eh?”
Faolan did not respond; there was nothing to say. Within two turnings of the moon, he would be at Briar Wood settling a new bride into a stranger’s home, and Bridei would be about to lead his forces down the Great Glen toward the confrontation of their lives. That Bridei had planned it thus, had intended
all along that Faolan should not be by his side at his moment of truth, only made the whole thing harder. Best concentrate on facts. He was a hired man and he would give value for the silver they paid him.
The door creaked open; the guard looked in. “The young lady wants to speak to you, my lord.”
Ana stood in the doorway. She had been wan and bedraggled when they rode in to Abertornie some
time before. Now she wore a clean, pressed tunic and skirt in soft blue, and her fair hair was dressed in a circlet of braids, shining in the lamplight. It hardly seemed worth the bother, Faolan thought, since they had to go on in the morning.
Both men rose to their feet, Ged springing up, Faolan moving more slowly.
“Please, don’t get up,” Ana said. “This won’t take long.”
Ged settled her in
a chair and poured ale, his eyes frankly admiring. Married man or no, he was known to delight in the company of comely women, especially quickwitted ones.
“Thank you.” Ana sipped politely, set the goblet down, turned her gaze on Faolan. “It’s Darva,” she said. “She can’t go on.”
This was simple truth. Faolan had seen the serving woman when they arrived; she had more or less fallen from her horse
and been carried inside.
“She’s just not up to this,” Ana went on. “Best if she rests here, then goes back to White Hill when it’s convenient.”
“We can certainly accommodate her here at Abertornie,” Ged said. “But—”
“I hope,” Faolan said to Ana, “that you’re not about to suggest we delay our departure because of this. I had assumed you would select a companion who had at least some riding ability.”
He watched the pink rise in Ana’s cheeks; she seemed to be able to do that at will.
“Forgive me,” she said, “I thought it was you, not I, who was in charge of this expedition. You drilled me thoroughly enough before we left. How was it the most reliable of escorts neglected to check the qualifications of my companion?”
She was right, of course. This was his responsibility, and he had made an
error of judgment. He watched her face; observed the little frown between the elegantly shaped brows. It had been plain to him from the first that this royal bride did not want to go to Briar Wood any more than he did.
She was ignoring him now, addressing herself to Ged. “I was hoping,” she said, “that there might be a girl here at Abertornie who could come with us in Darva’s place. It doesn’t
matter so much about her skills as a serving woman; I can teach her those in time. She needs to be able to ride, I mean really ride, and she must be able to smile no matter how annoying things are.” As if to press her point, she turned her head toward Faolan and graced him with a smile of calculated radiance, which somehow managed to convey both warm approval and total insincerity. He could not
keep his mouth from twitching in response. Ged roared with laughter.
“I did ask your wife already,” Ana told the chieftain, “and she promised to try to find a willing girl, one who likes the idea of an adventure. We just need your approval. The only thing is, we’re leaving in the morning. She’d have to pack up quickly; she wouldn’t have much time to make up her mind.”
She had surprised Faolan
again. He had expected, at the very least, a request to stay and rest for one additional night. The men would have welcomed that.
“Setting yourselves a hard pace,” Ged grunted. “I’m sure Loura can find you a girl. We breed ’em tough around here.”
“Thank you,” Ana said. “It’s not as if I really need a serving woman, I can manage quite well by myself. I don’t have many belongings to look after,
since I was ordered to leave as much as possible behind. I need this girl principally for reasons of propriety.”
Ged grinned. “What, with this fellow in charge? None of them would dare to set a foot astray, or cast a glance where they shouldn’t. But you’re right. I already told him the escort’s too small. Three or four women to attend you, twenty men-at-arms, that would be more like it. Some
ladies would demand a washerwoman, a seamstress, and a court bard for good measure.”
“She doesn’t need the bard,” Faolan found himself saying. “The lady provides her own entertainment.”
Ana glared at him; he made sure his features showed nothing in return. Her singing voice had been small, but pure and true-pitched; he had found that, after he had silenced her with words that had come despite
him, words that he had known were cruel, the tunes remained in his head, following him even into his brief snatches of sleep. They conjured memories of older songs in another tongue, a music that belonged in a different life, one he should have forgotten. He would have begged her not to sing, but the codes he imposed upon himself forbade such honesty.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” she asked him now.
The blush had faded; her gray eyes were calm and cool as she gazed at him. “We should go on as soon as we can, since bad weather might slow us later.”
He inclined his head. “Tomorrow,” he said. “You’ll be eager to meet your new husband.”
Something flickered in her eyes. “Eager,” she echoed. “That is not the way I would express it. I have a duty to perform, and since I have been told speed is
important, I will adhere to whatever timetable is considered appropriate. That’s all there is to it.”
Faolan did not respond. Her voice had become tight and cold, a different voice from the one that had kept weariness at bay with music. Duty he did understand, as far as it went. Duty, for him, was quite a complex issue.
“It may not be so bad, lass,” Ged said, putting a hand on Ana’s knee and,
with a glance at Faolan, removing it again. “This fellow Alpin is wealthy, at least. And youngish. You may do very well for yourself.”
 
 
IT WAS DIFFICULT to tell if the new girl, Creisa, would be a help or a hindrance to the expedition. She came with her own pony and a shawl woven in the rainbow hues that set Ged’s household apart wherever they traveled. Creisa could certainly ride, and
she did not snore. It was her effect on the men of Ana’s escort that gave cause for concern. She was young, and had a freshness about her like that of a spring primrose: red cheeks, full lips, wide, longlashed brown eyes. Her figure was generous, and showed to advantage when she sat astride her pony, back straight and shoulders square, with the unconscious grace of a natural horsewoman. In the evenings
she engaged the men in conversation around the fire, keeping them from their sleep. By day she joked as they rode along, and the hand-picked escort responded, vying for her attention, until Faolan silenced them with a curt command. Then there would be a period of peace and order, until Creisa made a throwaway comment or a giggling suggestion and it all began again.
Faolan developed a little line
between his brows and a corresponding tightening of a mouth already less than relaxed. Ana found the girl’s banter and the men’s-responses amusing, harmless; all of them knew that on such a journey it could not go any further. She was sorely tempted, after Faolan’s snarls at the men, to comment that surely this pleased him better than her singing, but she held her tongue, not wishing to let him
know that the jibe had hurt her. She had sung Derelei to sleep more times than she could remember, and she missed his infant warmth, his trusting smiles. Long ago she had taught the same songs to her little sister. Music was love, family, memory. She did not know how anyone could dismiss it thus.
Abertornie had been the last friendly house, the last overnight stay within the shelter of walls.
It was deemed too dangerous to seek accommodation with the unknown inhabitants of the wild northern valleys, few as they were. An unplanned visit to the stronghold of a Caitt chieftain, especially when one traveler was a young woman of particular strategic value, might just as likely end up with the whole party being seized as hostages or worse. That risk was not worth taking for the sake of a night’s
shelter, clean clothing, or a better quality of supper.
So the travelers went on, maintaining a good speed as the moon went from new to half to full and began to wane again. Each day the way seemed to be steeper and the forests darker, the undergrowth thicker and the hillsides more precipitous. The weather assisted them, remaining mostly dry, though cold. At night, Ana and Creisa slept close
under their shared blankets, keeping each other warm.
“Better than nothing, my lady,” Creisa whispered as, outside their small shelter, the men who were off watch settled around the fire and the night creatures began their mysterious dialogues in the forest beyond. “Not that I wouldn’t rather be snuggled up with one of the fellows. That Kinet, for instance, he’s got a good set of shoulders on
him and a lovely smile; or maybe Wrad, have you seen the bold way he looks at me? When we get to where we’re going, I’ve a treat in store for someone. Can’t make up my mind which, so far.”
“Shh,” Ana hissed, torn between the need to reprimand her serving woman as a lady should, to silence such foolish talk, and a kind of envy that the girl could speak so openly, and with such evident relish,
of matters that were still a mystery to Ana herself, even at nearly nineteen years of age. “You should not speak thus, Creisa. It’s unseemly.”
“Sorry, my lady,” Creisa said in a small voice. She was silent for a little, then began again. “Of course, the quiet, closed-up ones can be the most exciting, if you can get them interested in the first place. I know which one I’d really like to spend
a night alone with. That Faolan, I reckon he’d be a stayer.”
There was something in the quality of the silence beyond the opening of their tent, after this speech, that told Ana she must produce an answer that was both quick and quelling. “Faolan is King Bridei’s personal emissary. He’s the king’s trusted friend. You will not speak of him thus again, Creisa. I hope I do not have to tell you twice.”
“No, my lady.” It was evident in Creisa’s tone that she was smiling in the darkness. “All the same—”
“Enough!” Ana snapped, loudly enough to be heard by anyone outside who happened to be listening. Creisa fell silent at last, and not long after, the sound of her breathing told Ana she had fallen asleep.
Ana herself did not sleep. She pondered Creisa’s life growing up on Ged’s home farm, working
in kitchen and vegetable gardens and, from the sound of it, forming casual alliances with any number of lusty young men. Questions came to her: wasn’t Creisa worried she might conceive a child? Would not such wanton behavior damage her chances of attracting a reliable husband? Above all, among the confusion of thoughts and feelings Creisa’s whispered foolishness had awoken in her, Ana recognized
that she was envious: envious of the ease with which Creisa spoke of the congress between man and woman, and still more envious of the fact that, if Creisa were to be believed, such congress was for her not brutal, arbitrary, a thing to be endured, but entirely pleasurable, easy and natural. For a woman of her own status, Ana thought, it could hardly ever be so simple. To wed for love, as Tuala
had done, was an opportunity rarely afforded those of the royal blood. Ana could almost wish she had wed kindly, courteous Bridei herself, as many people, the king’s druid Broichan among them, would have preferred. She had, indeed, considered that prospect seriously for a little, but only until the moment she first heard Bridei utter Tuala’s name, and Tuala his. From then on, Ana had recognized the
inevitability of things, for there was a bond between those two that transcended the ordinary. A tiny, hidden part of Ana still longed for a love like that in the grand tales of old, powerful, tender, and passionate. Before they got to Briar Wood, she told herself grimly, she’d best quash any trace of that yearning, for such a foolish fancy could only lead to grief.
BOOK: Blade of Fortriu
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