Icefall (33 page)

Orach seemed especially nervous, casting constant anxious glances at Seth, and in the twilight of the clear day I saw them together, his arm round her slender shoulders as they talked. She'd loved him once. He'd loved her back. Conal had wanted them bound to each other but she'd waited in vain and finally lost him to me. It must have been hard for her to contemplate his death without being the lover who'd guard his back or die with him; I felt for her, and was glad the duty was mine. They probably remained in a love of sorts. I knew the clann saw it and I knew they gossiped, but that didn't bother me. It made me smile. She knew and I knew she wasn't a threat.

When Seth released her and walked away, I went across, let my fingers touch hers.

~
He'll be fine
, I said. ~
He always is.

~
Course he will.

~
If I can't watch him, Orach. If I can't protect his back when we get to Kate's—

~
Don't even ask.
She nudged me fondly. ~
Of course I'll watch him for you.

‘Lay
deez!
' Jed was in a particularly hyper mood. He'd actually been whistling. ‘You'd better not be fretting your petticoats over our hero. You'll only put him off tomorrow if you start throwing your knickers at the stage.'

We both chucked clods of peat at him, and he laughed, batting them away. I couldn't help smiling. When he grinned back at me, my heart twisted. If Seth was still a little in love with Orach, it was no more than I was with Jed. Since we'd come home, it was as if his whole body had been lit from within, as if there was life in his veins again instead of dark sluggish blood. He moved differently. He was fluid and easy, and he belonged in the landscape like a tree or a rock or a pool of water. His happiness seemed to overflow into Iolaire, who laughed more easily than he had in four years.

Jed's surly standby mode, I knew, made his occasional sunniness all the more disarming. It was easy to be infected, and I think he was all that got the clann through that evening and night. He was what Seth needed at that moment; he was what we all needed.

I just really hoped he was right.

 

Rory

Rory couldn't sleep. Not that he wasn't used to roots and stones digging into his bones, to snatching sleep where and when he could, but every few minutes an image of the captive Hannah flashed in his brain, tormenting him, jerking his eyes wide open. If he drifted close to sleep, it was worse; half-dreams of her came, feeling more real than anything around him, and they weren't happy ones.

Seth said Kate wouldn't hurt her. Rory wasn't so sure; and there was Sionnach. Rory was fighting not to grieve for him yet, fighting to believe he was alive, but if he was alive, Hannah would be protecting him. He lay watching the clouds drift across the moon, and imagined the terrible risks she might take to do it.

‘Hey.'

He turned at Jed's soft voice. His brother crouched above him, smiling. Jed had calmed down a little since his manic clowning earlier, and his eyes were calm and sympathetic.

‘Can't sleep?'

Sometimes Rory thought he'd always be his brother's child: eight years old forever in Jed's mind. Sometimes that drove him crazy. Sometimes, like now, the comfort of it brought hot tears to his eyes.

Silently Jed held out a hand. Rory took it and let his brother haul him to his feet.

‘C'mon,' murmured Jed, releasing his hand. ‘Don't wake the others.'

They'd moved camp, closer to that broad expanse of machair where his father wanted them to be at dawn. Rory followed Jed's shape through the small copse of trees, then over a ridge where Orach stood guard, her eyes brilliant as she twitched a hand in acknowledgement. Beyond the ridge the ground fell away into a small gully that ran almost to the sea. Between Rory's bare toes the salt-cropped grass was damp and cool, and the night air was intense with the sea scent of tangle.

When Jed sat down, Rory didn't think twice, but slumped against him the way he used to. Jed started, but Rory felt him smile as his arm went round his shoulders. Strange feeling, when they were nearly the same height, but it was good. They sat for minutes in silence, and then Jed said, ‘I'm sorry. About Hannah.'

‘Not your fault.'

‘No. But I'm sorry.' Jed hesitated, awkward for the first time. ‘About everything.'

Swiftly Rory kissed Jed's cropped scalp. ‘Not your fault either.'

‘Yes. It was.'

Rory put his arms round Jed and hugged him hard.

‘I'll never go back to the otherworld,' said Jed quietly. ‘Never.'

‘No. But none of us will, I don't think.'

‘You're in danger. I wish you'd stayed home.'

‘You know fine I couldn't do that.'

Jed gave a low laugh as Rory pulled away. ‘Yeah. I know. But I thought I'd better throw some kind of a hissy-fit.'

‘Jeez. You're so
maternal
.'

Jed laughed again, shaking his head. ‘Somebody had to be, motherless brat.' He sobered. ‘I'm sorry about that, too.'

‘Stop being sorry about things that weren't your fault.' Rory head-butted his shoulder. ‘I'm glad you're happy. What a pain in the arse you've been.'

‘
Insolent
brat.' Jed squeezed his shoulders a little too hard.

‘Speaking of Mum. Will you be okay seeing the Lammyr?'

‘I'll be absolutely peachy seeing the Lammyr,' said Jed grimly.

‘Jed…'

‘Shush, it's okay. Joke.'

For long moments there was only the lonely cry of a night bird, and the whisper of the river, and the distant thump and hiss of the sea.

‘Don't let them wind you up,' Rory blurted.

‘Nah. Course not.'

‘Because they'll try. Look what—'

‘Listen, bruv, I know how their minds work. Mine works the same. Me and Skinshanks and Nils Laszlo: sisters under the skin.'

‘Oh, quit doing that!' Rory grabbed Jed's head and shook it. ‘You know what you've got in common with Laszlo? Self-fulfilling prophecies, that's what.'

Jed slewed his eyes sideways, and Rory thought for a moment that his face had darkened with pain, but when he looked at him again he was grinning. ‘Oh, yeah?'

‘Yeah. You believe all that bollocks about yourself, just because a Lammyr wound you up once. You see why I'm worried? Skinshanks would be laughing its head off.'

Jed twisted swiftly and wrestled Rory to the ground. ‘Aye. If your barbarian father hadn't cut it off already. And by the way, I do
not
have a Lammyr hangup any more.'

Rory giggled, aiming a few useless punches at Jed's solar plexus. Jed slapped his fists away like mosquitoes, caught his wrists and sat on him till he was squashed into submission.

‘Bloody hell, bruv. You're going to have to do better than that.' Jed bounced on his belly, making him grunt. ‘Don't let me catch you picking a fight with a Lammyr.'

‘Gerroff.'

‘No fighting. Don't get involved with them, whatever happens. Swear on your mother's grave.'

Going limp, Rory stared up at Jed's eyes. They were cold and serious now.

‘Okay.'

‘Grand!' The mockery was back in Jed's eyes, and he let Rory wriggle up.

‘Pig,' said Rory.

Jed squeezed him hard again. ‘I love you, runt. Know that?'

‘Yeah. Me too.'

‘Good. Now shut it. And maybe we'd both better get some sleep.'

*   *   *

‘Are we ready, Murlainn?' said Langfank, clapping its dry fingers. ‘Are we steady? Are we go?'

It stood in front of a phalanx of fifty or more: Rory had given up counting. At least twice that number watched from outcrops of grey rock, from the hillsides, from the edge of the dunes. The Lammyr murmured happily amongst themselves; Rory wouldn't have been surprised if they were taking bets.

Rory stood by the blue roan as he'd been ordered, his hand on its neck, more afraid than he'd wanted to feel, watching his father walk up to Langfank. Seth looked more corporeal somehow. The Lammyr was so thin, it might have been made of paper: paper made of milled steel, maybe. It couldn't wipe the empty, starving smile off its face, and it sounded a lot less obsequious than it had when it was alone in the middle of a small Sithe army.

‘We're all sorted,' said Langfank. He gestured grandly at the dense ranks of Lammyr. ‘They're forming a block over the playground. Aren't my friends clever?'

‘They'd better be,' said Seth. ‘They'd better not squawk.'

‘What about yours?' It sniffed. ‘I hope you've left your newbies behind. You can never be sure.'

‘These are my own clann,' said Seth through his teeth. ‘Obviously. Sulaire MacTorc's with the rest. If I was in the otherworld I'd be giving Kate three months' notice, but I'd really rather not do that here.'

‘We're all of one mind, Murlainn, we really are! The secrecy's part of the deal. We're here to help!' It clapped its hands. ‘So. Down to
your
part. Where's the prisoner? Come on, come on. You know the rules.'

Seth jerked his head, and Braon and Fearna between them dragged forward a wildly kicking, bound figure, dumping him next to Seth and the Lammyr. Faragaig's Captain bit down hard on his gag, mumbling unintelligible curses, but his arms were pinned securely behind his back and Fearna held him down with the tip of his sword on his belly.

‘Sorry about this, Glanadair,' Seth told him, ‘but it's you or my army. And I never met anyone who asked for it louder.'

Langfank inspected the red glowering face. ‘He looks very nice. That'll do grand, Murlainn.'

‘This oath is binding,' said Seth, shrugging off his jacket and unbuckling his sword belt. Fearna and Braon were already dragging Glanadair backwards to the edge of the arena. ‘Ten years.'

‘Not a problem.' It bounced on its heels, brimming with eagerness. ‘And don't forget, it's to the death. No sneaky cheaty.'

‘Fine. And don't even
think
about reneging once Kate's dead. Or I am.'

It giggled like a rockslip. ‘Now, I won't pretend we wouldn't be happy to dance on your corpse, Murlainn. But it's like I said. I've no affection for Kate either.'

‘Langfank, you've no affection for anybody.'

It loosened the blades in its belt, patting their edges with a fingertip. ‘True. But I confess, Murlainn: on a personal level, I'm still a bit miffed about my brother.'

‘A Lammyr's never miffed about death,' said Seth darkly.

‘Well, no. But Skinshanks was grand company. I miss his quirky sense of humour.'

‘I know you don't have principles,' sighed Seth as he half-drew his sword and examined the edge, ‘but just tell me. Do you give a toss about the outcome either way?'

It shrugged bony shoulders. ‘No, my dear. We really don't give a damn. Enough of the chat, I say.'

‘You're on, then. I—'

‘No.' Jed shoved forward.

Seth turned on his heel, exasperated. ‘What now?'

Lammyr or Sithe, every one of them stared as Jed walked to Seth's side. He raised his voice so there was no chance of anyone mishearing. ‘It's mine, Murlainn. I claim it. Its brother killed my mother and it's mine.'

Rory opened his mouth to shout, but no sound came out. His voice had dried to dust, and for a moment he had no breath. The blue roan nuzzled his neck, blew into his hair. Branndair slunk to his side, and Rory thrust numb fingers into his neck fur.

‘Oh!' Langfank brightened, grinning. ‘You!'

Seth's irritation had faded to shock. He paled. ‘No, Jed.'

‘I'm not sure this is quite kosher,' remarked Langfank to its lieutenant. ‘Is this acceptable in the rules?'

‘No!' barked Seth. ‘No, it bloody isn't!'

‘It's his blood-brother!' said the lieutenant, clasping its hands in excitement. ‘If it's not in the rules it
should
be.'

‘Absolutely no way. Out of the question.' Seth clenched his teeth and raised a fist as if he wanted to punch Jed out of the arena.

‘Is this all right with you guys?' called Langfank to its assembled Lammyr. The polite and delighted applause seemed to tell it it was.

‘Lovely!' called one from the rocks. ‘Blood-brother! That's adorable.'

‘Perfect!' wheezed another, and had a fit of coughing. Its nearest neighbour patted its back.

‘No. I don't accept this,' yelled Seth, grabbing Jed's collar. ‘The combat's mine.'

‘He claimed it.' Langfank pouted. ‘That's your rules, not mine. It's a yes from me!'

‘It's a bloody enormous
no
from me
.
'

‘Too late, brother.' Jed slapped Seth's fist off his collar. ‘Look, I've claimed it. You know how this works, right? It's a done deal. No get-out clause, so shut your trap.'

‘You
bloody
little tosser.'

‘Thank you. Shall I get on with it?'

Seth breathed hard, and in the ranks of the Sithe there was expectant silence. Iolaire's head was bent, his eyes shut, his mouth a tight line. There was nothing to be done, thought Rory, feeling nauseous. If Seth carried on this quarrel, no-one would benefit but the Lammyr.

At last his father put his hand against Jed's face.

‘Cuilean. Be careful.' He kissed his cheek and stepped back.

‘I do like being a Lammyr.' Langfank was shrugging off its coat, fully revealing the dagger at its waist and the belt of hanging blades. Unscabbarded, some had cut its flesh at the waist, and colourless blood had dribbled down to darken its trousers. ‘Speed! Strength of purpose! Decent metal, not your shit steel! But the best of it, Cuilean? I don't care which of us wins.'