Son of the Shadows (12 page)

"Are you sure this is all right?" I had asked Mother.

"We'll manage," she smiled, but there was a sorrow in her eyes these days. "You must live your life, Daughter. We'll do well enough without you for a while."

I thought to ask her what it might mean, that an Otherworld guide had led me to discover my sister's secret and set her on a path out of Sevenwaters and away from the forest. For I had no doubt that the

Fair Folk had had a hand in that, but I could not guess their motive. My mother might know, for she had more than once seen these powerful beings face-to-face and been guided by their wishes.

But I did not ask. Mother had enough to bear. Besides, it was too late. Too late for Niamh and too late for Ciaran, who was gone away, nobody knew where.

Father was not quite so ready to see me ride off, but he recognized how it was with Niamh, and reluctantly he agreed. "Don't be gone too long, sweetheart," he said, "five or six nights at most.

And go nowhere unguarded. Liam will provide armed men to see you home safely."

Before her wedding, I fashioned a fine, strong cord for my sister to wear about her neck. As I wove it I

told myself the tale of Aengus Og and the fair Caer Ibormeith, and I felt the weight of unshed tears heavy behind my eyes. Into this cord I wove one gold thread from my Uncle Conor's robe.

There were fibers there of heather and lavender, celandine and juniper; I sought to protect her as
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well as I could. There were plain linen strands from my own working attire, and a thread of blue from my mother's ancient, most beloved gown. Sean's riding cloak provided dark wool, and the leather strips that bound the ends of it were snipped from an old pair of Iubdan's working boots, a farmer's muddy boots. I fashioned all together into a cord that was fine and smooth and crafted so that it would take more than mortal strength to break it. I didn't say anything when I slipped it into Niamh's hand and neither did she. But she knew what it was for. She took the small white stone from her pocket, and threaded the cord through the little hole in it, and put it around her neck; and I lifted aside the weight of her beautiful fiery hair and tied the leather strips tightly together. When she slipped the stone under her gown, it could not be seen at all.

Since that night, when she had learned that it is men who make decisions and women who must follow them, my sister had not once mentioned Ciaran. Indeed, she had not spoken much at all.

Those had been her last tears, her last signs of weakness. I saw the bitter resentment in her eyes as she told Liam she would wed Fionn as he wished. I saw the pain on her face as she made ready her gowns and shoes and veils, as she watched the women sew her wedding dress, as she gazed out the window at the soft, summer woods of Sevenwaters. She would barely speak, even to Mother. Father tried to talk to her, but

she tightened her lips and would not hear his quiet words, as he attempted to explain to her that this was indeed best for her, that she would discover in time that the right choice had been made. After that, Father took to staying out late in the fields so he need not speak to any of us.

Sean busied himself with the men in the practice yard and gave both his sisters a wide berth.

As for me, I loved Niamh and wanted to help her. But she would not let me in. Only once, the night before her wedding, as we lay sleepless, sharing our bedchamber for the last time, she said very softly, "Liadan?"

"What is it, Niamh?"

"He said he loved me, but he went away. He lied to me, Liadan. If he had truly loved me, he would never have left me, he would not have given up so easily."

"I shouldn't think it was easy at all," I said; remembering the look on the young druid's face in the shadow of the hallway and the harsh note of pain in his voice.

"He said he would love me forever." My sister's voice was tight and cold. "All men are liars. I told him I

would be his alone. He did not deserve such a promise. I hope he suffers when he learns that I have wed another and gone far from the forest. Perhaps he will know then how betrayal feels."

"Oh, Niamh," I said, "he does love you; I am sure of it. No doubt he had his reasons for going away.

There is more to this than we know; secrets not yet told. You should not hate Ciaran for what he has done."

But she had turned her face to the wall, and I could not tell if she heard me or not.

Fionn was a man of middle years, as my uncle had said, well mannered, decisive, and accompanied by the retinue one would expect for a man of his standing. His eyes followed my sister, and he made no attempt to conceal the desire in them. But his mouth was cold. I did not like him. What the rest of my family thought was anyone's guess, for we made a convincing pretense of joyful celebration, and the wedding day was not lacking in music and flowers and feasting. The Ui Neills were a Christian household, and it was a Christian priest who spoke the words and heard the couple's vows. Aisling was there and with her Eamonn. I was relieved there was no opportunity to speak with him alone. He would have read the unhappiness in my eyes and demanded to know the cause. Conor was not there, nor any others of his kind. Underneath the jollity there was a freezing wrongness about the whole thing, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. Then we rode away to the northwest, Niamh and her husband, and the men of Tirconnell, and the six men at arms from our own household, with me in the middle,
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feeling just a little ridiculous.

The village of Littlefolds lies tucked under a hill, in a fold of the land amid thickly wooded, undulating country. It is to the west of Eamonn's estates and northwest of his border with Seamus Redbeard. Our journey had taken us, thus far, through familiar and friendly territory.

Now it was time to bid my sister farewell and turn for home. It was the third day. We had made camp on the way and had been well provided for. Niamh and I and the maidservant who accompanied her had shared a canopied tent, while the men fended for themselves. I supposed Fionn would wait until they reached Tirconnell to consummate the marriage. For my sister's sake, I hoped he would wait.

We said our farewells. There was no time, no privacy. Fionn was eager to be away. I hugged Niamh and looked into her eyes, and they were empty, like the eyes of a lovely image carved in pale stone.

"I'll come and see you," I whispered. "Just as soon as I can. Be strong, Niamh. I'll hold you in my heart."

"Good-bye, Liadan," she said in a tight little voice, and she turned so that Fionn could help her onto her horse, and they rode away without a word more. I did not weep. My tears would help nobody.

With the men of Tirconnell departed, the atmosphere thawed a little. My six men at arms had done exactly the job Liam had given them, surrounding me, grim faced, on the road so that I was protected from any possible attack; maintaining a watchful, well-armed guard at all other times. Now, as they readied horses and baggage for the return to Sevenwaters, one cracked a joke, and the others laughed, and one asked me quite gently if everything was all right and whether it would suit me to leave by midmorning. Was I tired? Could I ride maybe half a day before we stopped to rest? I said yes, for I

wanted nothing more than to be back home and to start mending the hurt of this last painful time. So I sat on a flat-topped stone and watched them as they made their orderly preparations.

The sky was heavy with clouds; it would rain before sunset.

"My lady!" It was one of the villagers, a young woman with a worn, lined face, her hair caught back in an old, green kerchief. "My lady!" She was running toward me, breathless in her haste.

Liam's men were good. Before she was anywhere near, there were two of them right beside me, hands on sword hilts. I

stood up.

"What is it? What's the matter?"

"Oh, my lady," she gasped, holding her side, "I'm so glad you haven't gone yet. I'm still in time.

It's my boy, Dan. I heard—they say you're the daughter of a great healer. My lady, Danny's got a fever on him that won't go down. He shakes and trembles and talks nonsense, and I'm afraid for him, I am so. Won't you come and cast your eye over him, just quickly before you go?"

I was already hunting around for my small pack, for I never traveled without a healer's basic supplies.

"This is not a good idea, my lady." The leader of the men at arms was frowning. "We should leave directly to reach a safe place of shelter by dusk. Liam said, straight there and straight back."

"Have you no healers of your own?" another of the men asked.

"None such as the lady here," the woman said, with a thread of hope in her voice. "They say she has magic in her hands."

"I don't like it," the leader said.

"Please, my lady. He's my only boy, and I'm out of my mind with worry, for I don't rightly know what to do for him."

"I won't be long," I told them firmly, picking up the pack and starting back toward the village.

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The men glanced at one another.

"You two go with the Lady Liadan," the leader barked. "One at each door, and let nobody in or out, save this woman and the lady herself. Eyes and ears open, weapons drawn. You, stand guard where you can see the path by the cottage. You, down the bottom of the track. Fergus and I will guard the horses.

Keep it quick, my lady, if you please. You can't be too careful these days. Lot of rabble around."

It was dark in the cottage, which was no more than a windowless hut of mud and wattle roofed with ragged thatch. A shielded candle burned by the boy's pallet. The guards did as they were told. The one at the back door I could not see; the other stood just outside the front, where he could keep a watch both on me and on the entrance. I felt the boy's forehead, touched my finger to his wrist where the blood pulsed.

"He is not so very sick that an herbal tea, administered correctly, may not help," I said. "Here, make this up, one handful in a large cup of hot water. Let it infuse till the color is a deep gold; then strain it well and let it cool until you can put a finger in comfortably. Give the boy a cupful twice a day. Don't try to make him eat; he will take food soon enough when he's ready. This summer fever is quite common; I am surprised you—"

I saw the boy's eyes change as he looked over my shoulder and beyond me, and I saw the woman back away silently, a mute apology on her worn face. I tried to rise and turn around, but as I stood up a large hand was clapped over my mouth and a muscular arm seized me around the chest, and it became clear to me that I had been neatly trapped. Iubdan's training had made sure I would not be without resources in such a situation. I sank my teeth into my captor's hand so that his grasp loosened for an instant, just long enough for me to raise my foot sharply to catch him between his legs. If I expected him to let me go, I

was wrong. He sucked in his breath; that was all. I tasted his blood. I had marked him. But he remained silent. There was no cursing, only a tightening of his grip. Where were my guards?

How had he got in?

Now even the woman was nowhere to be seen. The man began to move, trying to drag me to the back door. I made my whole body limp; he would have to carry me to get me out of there. I felt the pressure ease from my mouth, just a little, as he shifted his hold. I drew a deep breath, ready to yell for help. An instant later, there was a sickening blow on the back of my head and everything went dark.

My head was on fire. My mouth was as dry as chaff in a summer wind. There was scarce a part of my body that did not ache, for it seemed I had been dropped to the ground and left where I fell, one arm under me, my body sprawled face down on the hard earth. I was not tied up. Perhaps when I worked out what was happening, there would be some chance of escape. They had taken the little knife from my belt. That was no surprise. I lay still, eyes closed. I could hear birds calling, many birds, and a breeze in leaves, and water running over stones. Well out of doors then, somewhere in that vast, wooded area beyond the village. It was no longer full day; when I opened my eyes just a crack, I judged it was approaching dusk. How long, I wondered, before someone raised an alarm? How long before somebody came out to find me? It had been an efficient blow, calculated to put me out of action and keep me silent for long enough, without any permanent damage. In a way that was a good sign. The question was, long enough for what?

"They'll be back by sunset."

"So?"

"So who's going to tell the chief then? Who's going to explain this? Not me, that's for sure."

"Pity we can't keep it quiet. Get him called away on some mission, as far away as possible. She showing any sign of coming round?"

"Not a twitch. Sure you haven't killed her, Dog?"

"Who, me? Kill a little woman like her? With my tender heart?"

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Then there was an awful groaning sound, like a man in deathly agony. This shocked me so much I forgot to pretend and sat up quickly. A mistake. The pain in my head was so bad that a wave of nausea hit me, and for a moment all I could see was whirling stars. I held my hands against my temples, eyes shut, until the throbbing began to subside. The terrible groaning went on.

"Here," said a voice. I opened my eyes cautiously. A man was crouched next to me, in his hand a cup.

The cup was plain, dark metal. The hand that held it was even darker. I looked into the man's face, and he grinned, showing gleaming white teeth, of which one or two were missing. His face was as black as night. I stared, forgetting all my manners.

"You'll be thirsty," he said. "Here."

I took the cup of water and drained it. Things came into focus slowly. We were on a flat patch of ground by a little stream where the bushes and trees grew less densely. There were great moss-covered rocks and thick ferns on the bank. It had been raining, but we were protected by overhanging willows. There were two other men there, both now standing, hands on hips, looking down at me. All three of them were extraordinary, the stuff of fanciful tales. One had half of his skull shaved clean and the other half left alone, so the hair there was long and knotted, dark save for a streak of white at the temple. Around his neck he wore a strip of leather threaded through three great claws, perhaps a wolf's, though this would have been a bigger wolf than most men would see in their lives or wish to see. This man had a face pockmarked with small scars, and feral yellow eyes. His chin was etched with a neat pattern, the ink marked into the skin in crosshatched lozenges from lip to jawline. The second man bore markings around his wrists, as of twined serpents, and over his tunic he wore a strange garment that appeared to be fashioned of snakeskin. Again, the flesh of the face was etched and colored, this time on the brow, a design of cunningly interlocked scales and a forked, venomous tongue drawn down the ridge of the nose.