Son of the Shadows (45 page)

A man cannot be a father if he has no past and no future.

A man cannot acknowledge a son who bears the blood of a family he utterly despises. Better that he did not know. Better that nobody knew whose son this was. Son of the raven. Child of the prophecy. I

would not be tied to that, and nor should he. But there was Sean. You cannot keep secrets forever, not from a twin. He suspected. Soon enough, he would know. And now it was even more complicated. For whatever the bitter outcome of the chase through the marshes, it must blacken die reputation of the

Painted Man still further if he survived. Whatever happened, today's events would cut so deep that the men of my family, and the men of their alliance, could never consider dealing with the Painted Man again.

Unless I told the truth. And I had promised Niamh my silence.

Poor Niamh. She would be so frightened. She would feel so alone. What if she blundered off the path in her panic? What if she froze in terror again and could not be cajoled to move? I willed myself to breathe more slowly. My mind reached out, very cautiously.

Sean?

There was no response. Perhaps I had been too cautious.

Sean? Answer me. I need you, Sean!

There was nothing at all. I waited a long time with my mind open for his reply. So long, I almost began to think the unthinkable, knowing where he had been, knowing who he had been with. I felt doubt creeping into my mind. Trust, I told myself firmly. The price is trust.

Liadan? What's wrong?

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I let my breath out in a rush.

Sean! Where are you

?

At home. Where else would I be? What's wrong?

I can't say. But it is something bad, and I can't deal with it alone. You must come here to Sidhe Dubh. Come now, Sean. Bring an escort. I

—

we will be coming home with you

.

You'd better tell me, Liadan. Has something happened to Niamh?

Why do you ask that?

His response, when it came, was cautious.

I'm not Hind,, whatever you might think. Can you tell me what has happened? Shall I bring Father or Liam

?

I was shivering as I sat there and could not keep my fear from him. My every thought was shadowed with it.

No, don't bring them. Just you and a few men. I don't want Eamonn's guards riding back with us. Come quickly, Sean

.

I'm on my way

. Mercifully, he asked no further questions. And by the time he got here it would be over, one way or another.

It was nearly dusk before Eamonn returned. We were back in die hall by then, close to the massive hearth whose crackling fire cast gold light on the odd, carved pillars. The eyes of the strange creatures seemed to flicker and glow as they stared balefully down at us. There was muted noise as serving men and women brought food and drink, and took it away untouched.

Aisling gave quiet instructions. She looked pale and tired. Fionn sat at the table with his head in his hands. When at last we heard a stir outside, the sentries on the high guard posts calling and then voices in the courtyard, nobody jumped up and ran to the window to look. Instead we sat frozen, the three of us, unable after so long a wait to believe the news could be good and unwilling to advance the inevitable moment when we must be told the worst.

Eamonn was a man who did not lose control easily. You had to know him well to recognize when he was angry or upset. Even his proposal of marriage had been a model of restraint. But now, as he came quietly into the hall and with the slightest gesture of his hand caused the folk of his household to vanish, it was clear that he was exhausted almost beyond endurance. His face was bleached of color, and he looked shattered and old. Aisling sprang up to take his arm and lead him to a seat by the fire, and he shook off her solicitous grasp with a violent jerk of the arm.

That in itself showed how far stretched he was. Dark mud coated his shoes and was spattered over his clothing.

"You'd better tell us," I said grimly.

Eamonn stood before the fire with his back to us, staring into the heart of the flames.

"You have not brought my wife back." Fionn had his voice under control; his hands were clenched.

Aisling had retreated to sit by me and was keeping her mouth shut.

I

I

Eamonn put a hand over his eyes, a hand that was not quite steady, and he said in an undertone,

"The goddess help me. Who would be the bearer of such news?"

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I got up and went to stand close by him, and I took his hand in both of mine. This touch he did not shake off, and he had no choice but to look at me.

"Now, Eamonn," I said, meeting his gaze as steadily as I could, though the look in his deep, brown eyes disquieted me. "Fionn waits for news of his wife and I of my sister. We know what you have to tell cannot be good, but you must tell it."

"Oh, Liadan. Oh, Liadan, I would give much not to bring you such ill tidings."

"Tell us, Eamonn."

He took a deep, shuddering breath. "It is the worst, I'm afraid. Your sister is dead. Drowned on the way across to dry land."

"But... but.. ."

Aisling was up in a flash, her arm around my shoulders.

"Sit down, Liadan. Come, sit down."

I trembled. There was no longer any way to tell truth from fantasy. This trap I had set for myself.

"What!" Fionn rose to his feet very slowly. "What are you telling us? How could you allow this to happen? On your own land!"

"We did everything. Sent men around by the road, your own men and mine, to block their way out.

Followed behind across the bog, moving as quickly as we could. The mist was very thick, and that hampered us; but I knew they, too, would be affected by it. And Niamh would be slow, I thought, clad in a long gown and not knowing the way. They would have to talk her across, step by step.

"In that, I was right. We did catch them, but much farther across than I expected. This man is proficient at his evil works. We were closer to the far side than this when the mist lifted just a little, and there he was. The Painted Man, glancing back over his shoulder as he stepped from one safe foothold to the next.

He knew the way, all right. I never saw him look down. Not once.

"I could not see far ahead, but I glimpsed Niamh's bright hair and the gray of her cloak through the veil of mist. I could not see the man who led her. I alerted my companions and, taking my throwing knife from my belt, I quickened the pace, moving up behind my quarry until there were no more than seven paces between us. He was quite silent; he moved soft as a deer.

But up ahead, I heard Niamh's voice as she asked a question, and a man's voice answering. I weighed the knife in my hand, judging the distance to a certain point between that man's ribs. I knew he must be the first to go."

Tell me. For pity's sake, tell me

. I clenched my teeth together.

"I was gaining rapidly. The Painted Man had a knife at his belt but made no sign of taking hold of it. It was almost as if he were waiting for me to take him. I raised my knife, poised to throw, and quick as a flash he turned and made a subtle movement of his hand, and something small and shiny flew by me. I

heard the man behind me gave a little grunting sound, and there was a splash as he fell, and when I

looked forward again, the Painted Man was gone. Fury made me careless, and as I strode ahead I

almost lost my footing. I cried out after him, 'Murderer! Scum of the earth! I will put an end to your life of destruction and waste! You are marked for my knife, outlaw!' I heard him laugh, an empty, heartless sound, and then Niamh gave a scream. She had heard my voice and was struggling to get free, knowing rescue was close at hand."

His words set a chill on my heart. I could see it as clear as if it were right before me: Niamh, hearing her pursuer's voice, and desperate with the fear that she might after all not escape to
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freedom. Niamh panicking, there on the treacherous pathway. "Go on, Eamonn," I said, in a shaking voice.

"I don't know how much I should tell you."

"You'd better tell everything. For your own sake as much as ours."

"Out with it, man!" Fionn was less patient than I.

"Very well. Niamh screamed, 'No!' and there was the sound of a struggle ahead of me. The mist still hung low; it parted only in patches, here and there, and I could not see clearly. I moved on as fast as I could, careless of my own safety. Conn, who had been last of us three, came up behind me. But hasten as we might, we were too slow to save your sister. There was a shout from the man who had been in front, and then Niamh's voice again, 'Help me! Help!' For an instant, I saw the man's hand, black as coal, reach-ing out, and a flash of red, Niamh's hair as she slipped from safe footing, and I heard the sound of the—no, I will not tell that part. I saw very little, Liadan. By the time I reached the place where it had happened, there was no trace of her but the marks on the tussock where her foot had slipped and a— a patch on the surface of the mud, where she had gone under. And this."

He held out a little cord of plaited threads, gray and rose and blue, its ends bound with strips of leather.

On it hung a small, white stone with a hole in it. This cord was my own handiwork, and when I saw it I

felt the blood

II

II

drain from my face. For this, surely, Niamh would never willingly leave behind. Never, no matter where she went, no matter what orders she was given. This little token held all she had left of her family's love and Ciaran's.

"Wh-where was this, Eamonn?" I forced the words out.

"Floating on the surface, in a small patch of open water. The cord was caught on a reed. I'm sorry, Liadan. More sorry than I can possibly tell you."

Fionn cleared his throat. "What then? What of the fianna? Were they captured?"

Eamonn stared into the fire again. "It was not long before the man showed his true colors. We moved on after them to the north, and I could hear him laughing, taunting me as he fled. 'That surprised you, didn't it?' he called back at me. 'Didn't think I'd go that far, did you?' A derisive chuckle. 'Think again, Eamonn

Dubh,' he said. 'My actions are not governed by your notions of what is correct and honorable. I play

only to win, and I employ whatever strategy is required. If you would catch me, you must learn I cannot be measured by the same yardstick as other men. I took the woman only to demonstrate the weakness in your defenses. Now that I've drawn it to your attention, I'm sure it will be swiftly remedied. You see, I've done you a favor.' He went on in this vein, and all the while he managed to stay just ahead of me, however I increased my speed. We drew closer to the place where we must step onto dry land to be met by Fionn's men. But the mist was still thick, and suddenly I lost sight of them. Then there was a sound to the left of the path, like the croaking of a frog; and a sound to the right, like an answer. I made my way ahead as fast as any man could go. As I reached dry ground, the mist lifted. There were Fionn's men waiting by the road, silent. But of the Painted Man and his dark-skinned companion, there was no sign. Somehow they had slipped away and out of the bog and never passed the place where the ambush was set. How they did it, I do not know, for there is no other way."

"Excuse me." Fionn turned abruptly on his heel and strode away out of the hall. His face was gray. I

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might have felt some sympathy for him, but I could not forget my sister's bruises. If he had lost her, it was no better than he deserved.

"I'm sorry," Eamonn said again. "Words are not adequate, Liadan. Rest assured that it will be my mission to hunt these men down and see that they receive the harshest penalty. That is scant consolation to you for such a loss."

Aisling was weeping. "Oh, poor Niamh. What a terrible way to die! I can scarcely bear to think of it. We had better send word to Sevenwaters. I will arrange a messenger . .

."

"You need not." My voice was shaking. I took a deep breath and forced myself to be calm.

"Sean is already on his way; I have asked him to come."

Brother and sister looked at me and at each other, but nothing was said. It was common enough knowledge that Sean and I need not use words to reach one another, but such a skill makes even friends uneasy.

"He'll be here tomorrow," I added. "Eamonn, I have to ask you this. Are you quite sure that Niamh—that she—are you certain? After all, you did not see—could she possibly have made her way to the other side? Could you be wrong?"

Eamonn shook his head gravely. "I'm afraid not. There are no side tracks on those marshes.

There is only the one way. She could not have escaped them and survived, Liadan. This will be terrible news to break to your mother."

I nodded mutely. Terrible indeed; and all the worse for the fact that I could not tell if it were true or not.

It might be a long time before I knew. Meanwhile, the truths that I did know must remain concealed, and a cruel tale be told, which might be falsehood. For just in case Eamonn was wrong, just in case the

Painted Man had achieved the impossible yet again and taken my sister to safety, I must keep my part of the bargain.

Trust

, I said to myself, over and over.

Trust beyond all logic. That's the price. I must be crazy

.

The next day Sean came, and we told him. He took the news quietly, having perhaps expected the worst.

I conveyed to him my wish to return immediately to Sevenwaters, and I was packed and ready just after dawn the following morning. Sean refused Eamonn's offer of an escort, for, he said, the five men he had brought with him should be quite sufficient.

"It's Liadan's safety I'm thinking of," said Eamonn heavily. "This man will stop at nothing. I'd be happier if

you were better protected, at least to the borders of my own land."

Sean glanced at me, brows raised.

"Thank you, Eamonn," I said, "but I don't think you need concern yourself. Surely the Painted Man will not strike again so soon. He must know you will be on the alert for him. I'm sure we will reach home quite safely."