Flame of Sevenwaters (45 page)

“Maeve?” Luachan’s voice was just above a whisper. He stood at the curtain; it was drawn slightly aside, and through the narrow gap I caught his eye. “You seem upset. What did Caisin say to you?”

It stretched the bounds of propriety for us to be housed so close. Talking to a young man while the household slept around us was quite beyond anything my mother would have sanctioned. But the circumstances were extreme. I moved to seat myself on the floor beside the curtain, and after a moment Luachan sat down on the other side.

“She made me an offer,” I whispered. “Tried to bribe me into doing what she wants at this Grand Conclave. I said no.”

“What offer?”

A flush of humiliation warmed my face. I did not want to talk about this. But refusing to tell would be cowardly. “She said she could take away my scars. Make me beautiful. Give me back the use of my hands.”

After that, Luachan was silent for quite some time, long enough for me to assume the conversation was over. Then he said, “She offered that and you refused?” His tone was one of complete incredulity.

“Can’t you see how wrong that would be? What if I agreed and then something happened to Finbar? She should have known I didn’t need bribing.”

“How could she know that? You had refused to help her.”

I wanted to snap at him for being so calm and sensible, but I restrained myself. “Luachan?”

“Yes?”

“You think I should have agreed to go, don’t you? You think Finbar and I should appear at the Grand Conclave.”

A pause. “As I said, I would not tell you what to do,” Luachan murmured. “You are your own woman; that’s plain to me. But…You suggested this could wait until the next Grand Conclave. I don’t believe it can. I was told by Dioman, when we were bathing,
that the conclave is held every third year. How likely is it that in exactly three years from tomorrow, all the components of this rather odd verse will again be assembled here, ready to be brought into play at the right time? How likely is it that three years can pass without Mac Dara learning that his opponents are preparing this trap? Someone will see something. Someone will say something. How much more mischief can the Lord of the Oak work in that time? All the pieces are at hand. This may be the only chance to put them together.”

He had shocked me. “But you were hired to keep Finbar safe. That’s why you’re here. He’s only seven years old. This can’t be a simple matter of his watching whatever it is that has to happen. It can’t be as straightforward as my calming Swift the way I did earlier, even allowing for a crowd and a fire and a lot of noise. Mac Dara’s hardly going to stand there and let us do it.”

After a silence, Luachan spoke again. “So you still intend to take Finbar home in the morning?”

“Of course that’s what I intend! And I’m expecting you to come with us, since otherwise Finbar would have to lead Swift, including getting him across the bridge.” I forced myself to be honest. “We can’t do it without you.”

“Will you tell Finbar about the geis?”

“No! And you shouldn’t tell him, either.”

“Is that quite fair?”

I had thought I was already cold, but this conversation was setting a new chill in my bones. Could Luachan be right? Surely I must put Finbar’s safety ahead of everything else. But perhaps I was making the biggest mistake of my life, an error that would haunt me into my old age. I longed for Bear and Badger. Not that they would provide ready answers, but their warm, strong presence would give me the heart I so badly needed. “I know as well as you do what Finbar would say: that we have to go through with this, that it’s the way things must be done. He’s been telling me that all along. He said we should take time to find the dogs today before we went home. But the dogs are still lost.”

“Finbar is a seer. Sometimes he gets things wrong, yes, because
of his age and inexperience. But perhaps in this instance he is right; perhaps he has seen that we must all be present tomorrow or your father’s enemy cannot be defeated.”

“I won’t talk about this anymore,” I said, rising to my feet. It was uncomfortable to be reminded of Father’s council, where I had supported Luachan’s argument that the family must stand up to Mac Dara. Easy enough to do in the warmth and safety of home, with armed guards all around. “I don’t want Finbar told about the geis; he can’t understand the peril he’d be in if Mac Dara saw him. When he wakes up he’s to have something to eat—that’s if you have any supplies left—and then we’re fetching Blaze and Swift and leaving. If this darkness lingers, if there is no morning, we’ll borrow a lantern and leave anyway. And now I’m going to bed.”

I turned my back and walked over to my sleeping hammock. His voice came as the merest breath in the darkness.

“Maeve.”

“Enough,” I said.

“I failed you. I should have brought you home safely, you and Finbar. Instead, here we are. As a protector I have proven myself of very little worth.”

“My father would probably agree,” I said without turning. “But I don’t think you’ve been fully tested yet. Get us safely home tomorrow and nobody can complain that you’ve failed in your duties. Push me into facing Mac Dara and all three of us might perish. That really would be a failure.”

“Push you?” he echoed. “I don’t believe anyone could do that. Once your mind is made up, nothing can change it.”

I almost relented then, hearing the defeat in his voice. I wanted to go back to the curtain, sit down again, and offer words of comfort that might ease both Luachan’s mind and mine. Then Finbar made a little sound in his sleep, and the moment was over.

“When I said I wouldn’t talk about this anymore, I meant it,” I said. “We both need rest. By morning you’ll be seeing it the way I do. The only wise choice is to go home.”

The night passed slowly. There was no more sound from next door. I lay on my hammock, soft bedding cushioning me. Within that comfort my body was a jangle of tight parts and my mind was awash with unwelcome thoughts. I longed for Bear. Images of what might have befallen the dogs beset me, refusing to be banished, along with conflicting visions of a possible tomorrow. I could not escape the feeling that whatever happened in the morning, it would not be a simple ride home followed by a measured council in which Father or Ciarán thanked us for making the right decisions, then came up with a solution that would suit everyone. Perhaps the strange darkness would not lift. Perhaps, outside this lantern-lit place of peace, it would be night forever. Perhaps…perhaps…

At some point I must have drifted off into a light slumber, for I was jolted awake by a sound like a faint bell. I thought perhaps there had been soft voices speaking nearby not long ago, but now all was silent. After some time the bell-like sound came again: a bird was calling somewhere up in the trees that formed walls and roof to Caisin’s hall. Maybe dawn was coming. My head hurt. My limbs ached. And I needed to use the privy. I rose and went to the curtain, drawing it aside to peer into the next chamber. Luachan and Finbar were both fast asleep.

I had slept in the clothes provided for me. Though the lanterns were dimmed, there was sufficient light to find my way, so I headed out to the bathing chamber and the privy that was close by. When I was done, I found myself reluctant to return to the bedchamber and wait, alone with my thoughts, until the others woke. I would go and check on Swift.

A sound of voices drifted to me from somewhere within the house now, but there was nobody in sight. I took the path I thought we had taken to reach Swift’s enclosure, but it seemed I chose wrong, for the way wound in a circle, bringing me back to my starting point. I tried again, peering into a series of leaf-canopied spaces, all of them empty, until at last I found the area where Swift was housed. He was standing quiet, a white shadow at the far end of the enclosure. I stood awhile by the barrier, watching him and
thinking I was not ready to face a new day. Indeed, I felt ill equipped to make a decision of any kind at all. I found myself wishing I had never left Harrowfield. And yet, the voices of Uncle Bran and Aunt Liadan whispered in my ears, saying that was wrong; telling me I had work to do here, and that if I was not brave enough to do it, then nobody was.
Be true to yourself, Maeve
, Aunt Liadan said.
Confront your fears head-on,
said Uncle Bran.
What frightens you won’t go away, but you’ll learn the trick of standing up to it.

After a while Swift noticed I was there. I rolled myself over the barrier and went across to talk to him. He seemed more interested in the feed someone had left for him, and that was a good thing; if he was calm he’d be better able to make the walk back to Sevenwaters this morning. I found a place to sit and tried to achieve my own state of calm, while above the leafy canopy the sky began to brighten at last, spelling an end to the preternatural darkness. It seemed the storm that had near drowned us was past and a sunny day was dawning. I was glad of that, for another weary walk through the sodden forest did not bear thinking of. It would be hard enough getting two horses over that bridge without the complication of rain.

Now, that was odd. Where was Blaze? Where were the horses of the Fair Folk, those I had seen passing by at night? This little yard was bordered on three sides by the trunks of tall, slender trees, and on the other side was the pathway back into Caisin’s dwelling. I had been so weary and confused last night I had not thought of it, but there was no sign of any other enclosures for livestock. I could see no stables or any obvious provision for the upkeep of the many animals a household such as this must require. Fey horses might have different needs, of course. Dioman might have decided, wisely, to keep nervous Swift away from their other livestock. But I would have thought Blaze, at least, would be somewhere close by. When I saw Caisin I must ask her.

I sat there a long while, watching Swift eat, telling him some of my thoughts, not all, for I did not want him to pick up my anxiety. Eventually I fell silent, listening to the swell of birdsong from
above and thinking I must move soon, so I could be sure Finbar had breakfast before we left. Soon. But not quite yet.

“Maeve?”

Caisin’s voice startled me. I turned my head to see her standing by the barrier, a blue cloak thrown over her gown, her abundant hair confined in a jeweled net at the nape of her neck. The look on her face brought me to my feet, my heart thumping. “What is it?”

“I need to speak to you. Come closer, my dear.”

By the time I had crossed the enclosure and come out to stand beside her, I was shaking. Something had happened, something terrible. “Tell me,” I said. “What is it? Finbar—is he safe?”

“Your brother is well and eating his breakfast as we speak. Maeve, you’d best sit down.” Caisin gestured toward a bench with her long, ring-decked fingers. I sank down onto it, my stomach in knots. “I’m afraid I have ill tidings for you.”

“What tidings?” My mind filled with one unspeakable possibility after another. Mother. Father. Rhian. Deirdre or her children.

“You asked if I could find out about your dogs,” she said, and the compassion in her lovely eyes froze my heart. “I know you were very attached to them.”

Were.
“What? What’s happened to them?”

She hesitated. “It is…it is distressing news, Maeve. I hardly know how to tell you.”

“Just say it!”

“A messenger came early this morning. The folk Finbar saw were indeed Mac Dara’s henchmen. The Lord of the Oak is fond of games, and he plays them with cruel inventiveness. I do not understand his motive in this, but he has put both your friends to death.”

That wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. They were lost, perhaps hurt. Locked up. Prisoners. But not this. Bear couldn’t be dead; he couldn’t be. “No,” I heard myself say, and it felt as if I were miles away, looking down on a scene that was not real. “No, it’s not true. I don’t believe you.”

“I’m afraid there is no doubt about it, Maeve. My messenger saw what happened with his own eyes.”

“He saw it? Then why didn’t he try to stop them? Why didn’t he—” I put my head in my hands. Caisin’s arm came around me, but it provided no comfort at all. Bear. Badger. Gone. Gone forever. My fault. My doing. I had let them be taken. They had been alone and frightened, and I had not come. It was Bounder all over again.

“Weep all you want,” Caisin said. “You loved them. Beyond the usual affection between a woman and her pet, I can see.”

I let her hold me. I sobbed like a child; there was no stopping the tears. After a while I made myself draw a long breath and straighten, extracting myself from Caisin’s embrace. I wiped my eyes on my sleeve. Enough of weakness. I must ask the question. “You say your messenger was there when it happened. Tell me how it was done. How did Bear and Badger die?”

“It is best if I do not tell you that,” Caisin said. “Believe me, you would wish I had not.”

“
How did they die?
” I had not thought I could speak in such a voice: cold, level, dangerous. An iron-strong darkness was filling me up, leaving no space for soft thoughts.

“By fire. Afterward, Mac Dara cut out their hearts and ate them for supper.”