The Dark Mirror (49 page)

“Yes, Fola.”
There is learning
in everything
, Broichan always said. Even in being set somehow above those who see you as an inferior form of life, forever different, forever beyond acceptance.

“Also,” Fola said, “I want you to talk to Ferada and Ana about alliances through marriage, about what awaits them as chieftains’ daughters and what rules govern the choices that are made for them.”

“But—”

Fola silenced her with a look.
“I know you know all about it already. In theory. The royal descent, the importance of cross-links between the seven houses and so on. That, believe me, is far removed from a discussion with girls of your own age, whose personal futures are entirely governed by such rules.”

“If you wish. But I don’t understand why.”

The wise woman regarded Tuala closely for a little. “It is reasonable, I suppose,
that you seek an explanation,” she said. “I would be somewhat reassured if I thought you accepted that Banmerren is good for you; that we can indeed teach you something of worth.”

“I didn’t mean—”

Fola raised a hand. “Nor did you say so; but you give me sufficient clues to your state of mind, Tuala. I think there is another future you envisage for yourself that is not as priestess of the Shining
One, nor as scholar and teacher, admirably suited as you appear to be for either of those roles. You speak often of Pitnochie, with a tone of voice and a form of words that go beyond the natural homesickness that affects all of my new students. You do not speak a great deal of Bridei. But when you do, it is clear to me that he is much in your thoughts.”

Tuala said nothing. She did not know where
Fola was heading with this, nor how it related to what she had asked before.

“It’s very important that you realize what an opportunity you have been offered here, Tuala,” Fola went on gravely. “Talk to Ana and Ferada. Consider your other options, which are perhaps fewer than you realize. Think about the life we lead here and what it means for us. We may dwell within high walls, but the protection
they offer provides us with a particular kind of freedom; a freedom of the mind and spirit that is precious indeed. I do not doubt your love of the Shining One, my dear. I just want you to get things in perspective.”

“Yes, Fola. I will speak with the noble daughters.”

“Good. You may go now. Kethra tells me you like the tower. You do not think you should be housed with the others? That perhaps
you might be more readily accepted by them if that were so?”

“Maybe I would. But I do not think I could endure it long. I like to see the sky. I am accustomed to silence; to being alone.”

Fola nodded. “And you like trees,” she said. “I do seem to remember finding children under trees, long ago. Very well, off you go now. I look forward to working with you; I expect we’ll both learn something.”

WHAT MAY HAVE
seemed a simple matter to the wise woman did in fact require a certain courage. Being on the outside, excluded, could be seen as carrying its own strange sort of pride. Approaching the noble daughters outside the accepted conduct of a history class was to seek admission to a circle where she did not belong. It
was inviting humiliation.

Ana and Ferada had taken their bread and cheese out into the garden. They sat in their usual place, on a stone bench under a pear tree, with several other girls around them. It was a pretty sight: they might almost have been two manifestations of the maiden All-Flowers, Ferada representing autumn in her russet gown, her fiery hair pinned up high, her sharp features softened
by a dusting of freckles across the bridge of the nose. Ana was all springtime, with her ashen-fair locks spilling across her shoulders, her clothing the traditional tunic and straight skirt of her island people, woven in palest cream with borders the hue of forget-me-nots. She wore a silver brooch at the shoulder, pinning her shawl; it was wrought in the shape of a sea-beast, part horse,
part seal, part something else: one of the ancient signs of lineage in the Light Isles. It seemed to Tuala, watching these two and wondering what
she might say to them, that something set them apart. Whether it was their noble blood, or the advantages of education and upbringing, or the touch of the goddess herself, both looked lovely, powerful, and—for all her own reservations about Fox Girl—somehow
good. Tuala became aware that she was staring.

“Come and sit by us, Tuala,” Ana said in her soft, melodious voice. “The sun is so warm today; I think the Flamekeeper must be smiling on Fortriu.” She shifted across to make room on the bench; Ferada stayed where she was, expression mildly amused. As Tuala walked over, all the other girls got up without a word and moved away out of earshot.

“I’m
sorry,” Tuala found herself saying, “I didn’t mean to—”

“Shh,” Ana said. “Sit down; don’t mind them, they’re just silly girls. Ah!” she added triumphantly as Tuala seated herself between them. “You owe me, Ferada!”

Tuala looked from one to the other and Ana’s cheeks reddened slightly.

“A wager,” Ferada said. “How long it would take you to pluck up the courage and come over to sit with us. Unfortunately,
here at Banmerren we have nothing much to wager with. I have to wash Ana’s hair tonight, something we do for each other anyway while we’re here.”

Fox Girl was sounding almost human. It was surprising; she had maintained her distance up till now, save in the history class.

“I heard you were going to court,” Tuala ventured. “When your father returns.”

Ferada grimaced. “Inevitable,” she said.
“We’re here for a while, shut in behind high walls, and there for a while, being polite to men our families think suitable. I don’t know which is worse, really.”

“But you’ll be wanting to see your family,” Tuala said, surprised. “Your mother and little brothers.”

Ferada raised her brows. “Would you be in a hurry to see Uric and Bedo if they were your brothers? Frogs in the bed, shouts and shrieks
when you’re trying to study, weak jokes about which of the men you like best?”

Tuala smiled despite herself. “I thought they were fine little boys,” she said. “They made me laugh.”

“Didn’t you threaten to turn Bedo into a newt? I’m sure that’s what he told me.”

“I may have said something like that,” Tuala replied. “He knew it was a joke. Eventually.”

Ana laughed. “Little brothers would be
nice,” she said. “I have only much older ones. And a sister.” Abruptly, she was solemn. “She’ll be nearly eleven now. She probably doesn’t even remember me.”

“Hmm,” said Ferada, breaking off a piece of bread and tossing it to a thrush that waited on the grass. “Big brothers can be a worry; wouldn’t you agree, Tuala?”

“I don’t know,” Tuala said. “I have neither brothers nor sisters.” There was
a picture of the forest people in her mind, girl with cobweb hair and pale jewels on her fingers, boy all of nuts and berries and creepers. If folk like those were her family, it was no wonder the other girls looked at her askance.

“You do really,” Ferada said. “You have Bridei. A foster brother.”

There was a little silence.

“I need to ask you something,” Tuala said.

“Go on, then.” Ferada’s
interest was caught; there was a speculative glint in her eye.

“Fola wanted me to find out about—about what’s expected for young women such as yourselves. With marriages and alliances.”

“Why would you need to ask us?” Ana was amazed. “Fola should hear you in history class. You already know more than the rest of us put together.”

“That’s not what she means,” said Ferada. “She’s talking about
the bits that elderly male tutors don’t tell.”

“You can’t mean—” Ana flushed again, her cheeks turning rose pink.

Ferada gave a crooked smile, glancing sideways at her friend. “I doubt very much if Fola intends us to provide expert tuition in matters of the bedchamber,” she said drily “It’s more about what’s expected of us, and others like us. Do you think?”

Tuala nodded. “That’s what she said.
I know both of you are daughters of the royal line; that Lady Dreseida is a cousin of King Drust, the child of his mother’s sister, and that Ana is descended from a more distant branch of the royal line, the one that rules in the Light Isles. That means your sons would have a claim to kingship one day; it restricts who you can marry.”

“And it limits our other choices,” Ferada said glumly. “Be
glad you have the option of staying at Banmerren, Tuala. You may be shut off from the outside world here, but it’s a whole lot better than being a royal brood mare. That may seem like having power, when so much depends on us, but there’s no real power in it. When it comes to it, the men make the decisions; all we are is breeders.”

“We don’t do so badly,” Ana put in. “It is a life of privilege
compared with the hard work of a farmer’s wife or the lot of a servant.”

“How can you say that?” Ferada was outraged. “You’re captive here, stuck at Drust’s court for years and years, and you can’t go anywhere unless you’re surrounded by big men with knives. How long is it since you saw your family?”

Ana looked down at her hands. “A long time,” she said. “They do not come here. I imagine my
cousin is afraid any who visit may become hostages in their turn. My presence here has kept my kinsmen compliant. It has done what it was meant to do.”

“You always seem so calm,” Tuala ventured, choosing her words carefully. “As if you didn’t mind being a prisoner.”

“There is no point in complaining,” Ana said. “I was sad at first, sad and frightened. I missed my little sister terribly. But
they have been kind, the king and queen. And it helps to be able to spend time here at Banmerren. I like learning. I like the other girls’ company, Ferada’s in particular.”

“And you need not have those large guards always lurking somewhere close by when you’re in here,” Ferada said drily.

“Indeed, cannot,” agreed Ana. “There are times when the rule banning all men save druids from this sanctuary
is most welcome.”

“Ana?” Tuala asked.

“Mm?”

“What if your cousin . . . what if he . . .?” It was too terrible to say this in full; the whole situation seemed, indeed, quite unbelievable.

“Difficult question.” It was Ferada who replied; Ana had folded her hands together in her lap, her gray eyes suddenly shadowed. “What if her cousin decides to stop being so obedient? Decides to attack Drust
the Bull or ally himself with an enemy such as the Gaels, maybe? I wouldn’t like to venture a response, save to say that if I were a hostage I’d be a great deal less sanguine about it than Ana is.”

“I don’t think they’d kill me,” Ana said in a small voice. “But I suppose it is possible; if they are not prepared to make good that threat, then there’s little point in holding me here in Fortriu.
It is hard to believe that they would do it. Queen Rhian has been very good to me.”

“You’re safe as long as your cousin believes they’d carry it out,” Ferada said. “That makes it fortunate he doesn’t visit. One look at the way you’re
treated at Caer Pridne, for all the guards, and he’d realize the king couldn’t bring himself to lay a finger on you.”

Tuala could not tell if Ferada believed her
own words, or had made this speech to reassure her friend. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It is very difficult for you. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“I’ve accepted it,” said Ana. “Our ancestry makes us significant, not only as what my friend here calls royal brood mares, but also as pieces to be deployed to advantage in the game of political strategy. I learned this early. For me, the time as a hostage
may not last much longer. I’m deemed to be of marriageable years now, and it’s likely to be more useful to King Drust to wed me to a dangerous chieftain or petty king whom he wishes to placate. Then I suppose he will take new hostages.”

“How can you be so calm about it?” Ferada exclaimed. “This makes me so angry sometimes I could scream, if ladies were permitted to do something so uncouth. We
have so much to offer, so much we could give—and because of the accident of our birth, we have no free choices at all.”

“Shh,” warned Ana. “Don’t let Kethra hear you talking about accidents of birth. It sounds dangerously like an insult to the gods. We must accept the lives they give us, Ferada. We must work within the pathway they allot us.”

“Hmm,” said Ferada, her lips twisting in a humorless
smile. “To get back to your query, Tuala, we’re about to return to court for another round of introductions to men our families deem suitable future prospects for us. There aren’t many to choose from. They must be high born, healthy, of good character, and steadfast practitioners of the ancient faith of Fortriu. In other words, they must be in all ways fit to father a future monarch. I’ve yet
to meet a single one I could bear to have touch me, let alone do what a husband does to his wife. Most of them look me up and down like a choice cut of meat. They can’t help themselves.”

“That’s a little unfair,” Ana said, frowning. “There are worthy men among them.”

“Worthy!” Ferada gave a snort of derisive laughter. “Who wants worthy? Never mind. I know there’s no choice in the matter. If
there were, I would tell my parents I want nobody. I would make my own life as Fola has done.”