The Dowry Blade (22 page)

‘What she told us was the truth – wasn’t it?’ Brede was suddenly assailed by doubts.

‘Yes, she told you the truth, I’m sure of that. What I’m not sure of is why.’

Brede stayed silent for a long time. Eachan at last turned his head fully to look at her.

She would not meet his gaze.

‘This could have been my sister,’ she said quietly, gesturing at Jodis’ broken body. ‘It could have been me; it could have been any one of Wing Clan. But it was Jodis, and it was Jodis because she tried to help me, and because I didn’t trust her. I didn’t tell her everything, even when she asked.’

Chapter Twenty-Three

Brede returned to Grainne’s chambers to find Riordan on guard, and silence and darkness within. She slipped quietly through the main room to the door of Grainne’s bedchamber. It stood open, and she saw two recumbent forms on the bed, Grainne held close within Sorcha’s naked arms. Brede stood motionless for several minutes, and then moved an experimental hand across the threshold. She met gentle resistance. Wards. She turned away, seeking her own bed, desperate to put the distance of sleep between herself and the morning’s events.

Sleep, and dreams of Falda’s hand-fasting, a quiet affair: their mother’s Marshland birth had meant that Falda and Carolan must ask permission of the Clan.

Brede smarted at her sister’s humiliation, bristling at her side during the protracted deliberations, but Falda put her arms about her, laughing,

‘No one is going to say no, it’s just a game.’

And no one had said no, because Falda, for all her mixed blood, was Wing Clan to her core. Brede dreamt the dancing, Falda and Carolan skipping joyfully about ,yelling promises to each other, and then Brede dreamt Falda, eight months pregnant, staggering as a horse barrelled into her in the darkness and confusion of the last gather, and then Falda surrounded by dozens of children, Falda lying in the straw of a horse stall, her face ruined and a bloody gash in her neck.

Brede woke to the soft touch of Sorcha’s lips against her eyelids. She stirred, confused, as Sorcha’s lips caressed upward to the wound in her scalp. She heard the faint hum of Sorcha’s song purring into her throat, and the wound tingled under Sorcha’s mouth, shaping words against her skin, healing the torn flesh. The stirring spread through her body, waking, warming, exciting. Brede lifted her head slightly, lips against Sorcha’s throat, feeling the vibration there. Sorcha sighed and the humming faltered. Sorcha lowered her head slowly, so that she could see Brede’s face.

‘I’m running low on herbs,’ she whispered. Brede stopped her with a kiss. Sorcha twisted away laughing and reached for Brede’s injured shoulder. The humming resumed, a little louder, the words a shade more distinct. A sudden surge of feeling in the torn nerves, and Brede’s newly mobile hand caught at Sorcha’s shirt front, winding fingers into cloth, pulling Sorcha close once more. Sorcha’s hand slipped from shoulder to breast, and Brede’s found places to kiss that had Sorcha giggling.

‘I have to get more herbs,’ she whispered. Brede let the cloth between her fingers slip a little.

‘I thought you didn’t need them anymore?’

Sorcha sighed.

‘I can’t be awake all day and night. It takes drugs to keep her out of pain when I’m not there and – she’s been lying to me about how much she’s using.’

Brede reached to stroke Sorcha’s face, aware that she was close to tears.

‘I’ll take care of her, go and get whatever it is you need.’

‘I won’t be long,’ Sorcha promised, and before Brede could acknowledge her words she vanished, as abruptly as a snuffed candle. Brede’s reaching fingers refused to acknowledge the absence of her warm skin. She scrambled for her sword, and held the hilt tight between both hands, trying for something of which she was certain. She sat staring at the space where Sorcha had been, and then she shook herself, pulled on clothes, and walked swiftly into the main chamber, checking the doors, the windows, even the fireplace, with a thoroughness she knew to be unwarranted.

Grainne stirred from sleep, and moaned.

Brede started at the sound and went to the bedchamber door. Grainne’s eyes opened, and Brede straightened to attention.

‘Is that you, Ahern’s daughter? Come talk to me.’

Brede pulled a stool through from the outer room and perched beside Grainne with the sword across her knees.

Grainne forced herself into a half-sitting position so that she could see Brede’s face. Her eyes grazed the sword, and a half smile twisted her lip.

‘You don’t trust me, do you?’

‘Madam?’

‘It is hard to be close to Sorcha and not be with her.’

Brede sighed, and dropped her eyes to the blade across her knees. The silence dragged and she realised that Grainne expected her to speak.

‘Sometimes I wish she wasn’t here at all.’

Grainne nodded.

‘Sorcha has a tendency to flirtation; I’ve seen her making eyes at you across the back of my visitors.’ Brede kept her eyes down, hot to the roots of her hair. ‘It is not kind,’ Grainne observed, ‘to you, to Sorcha or to me.’

‘What do you want of me?’ Brede asked, goaded into risking a glance at Grainne’s face.

‘You’re deaf and blind to everything but Sorcha. You watch her every move; you contrive to touch her at any opportunity.’ Brede sat stiffly silent. ‘I trust you with my life, Brede.’ Brede turned the sword over, restless under Grainne’s scrutiny.

‘You are still alive,’ she said at last.

‘But the Plains woman is not. I told you that I want anyone who raises their hand against me alive.’

‘Is this because I am a Plains woman? Do you think I am implicated?’

‘No. I think perhaps Doran – she was his servant, and he was amongst those who brought her down.’

Brede hesitated, wondering whether to tell Grainne the little she knew of Jodis.

‘I could not protect you and her.’

Grainne laughed.

‘You were not protecting me, Brede, your first thought was for Sorcha, I saw you. It was only chance you brought me down. Where would you have been if you’d been forced to choose between us?’

‘That isn’t so,’ Brede protested softly, ignoring the accusation, her mind full of the broken body on the walkway. ‘If I could have reached her, I’d have protected Jodis.’

‘You knew her?’

‘We’d met.’

‘And did she know what your duties here were?’

‘No.’

‘And did she ever come within these walls?’

‘Not for me, but she sold Eachan the horse you rode this morning, she may have come in then.’

Grainne stared thoughtfully at Brede’s down-turned face.

A footstep in the outer room. Brede was at the door in a moment.

Sorcha stepped back from the sword, a song half sung. Brede lowered the sword, and stepped back. Sorcha watched the blade-tip touch the floor. She gathered up the herbs she had dropped, without speaking. Brede’s hand tangled with hers, silent reassurance. Sorcha returned the quiet embrace of fingers, almost furtive. She was suddenly aware of Grainne’s eyes upon her. She turned to face her; one hand still caught in Brede’s.

‘This is not for you,’ Sorcha said sharply.

Grainne’s eyes widened in surprise and she jerked her head at Brede, dismissing her.

Grainne waited for Sorcha to come close enough and caught at her shaking hand.

‘That was careless.’

Sorcha shook her head.

‘Brede was closer to death than I; doubly careless. I didn’t expect her to be in here with you. How did she come through the wards?’

‘I invited her.’

‘What were you talking about?’

‘The Plains woman. Trust. You.’

Sorcha shook her head again, the tremor in her hands gone. She mixed the new herbs in the proper proportions. She handed Grainne the drugged wine.

‘Drink,’ she said gently. Grainne took a steady swallow, watching Sorcha over the rim of the cup. Sorcha kissed Grainne on the brow, so close that no more than breath was required, certain that Brede would not overhear.

‘Stop interfering, Grainne, it is hard enough already.’

Grainne grabbed at Sorcha’s hand, preventing her from moving away with an unexpected strength.

‘For my sake, Sorcha, bed her and have done. You are putting my life at risk with this. You can’t concentrate.’

Sorcha forced her wrist out of Grainne’s grip.

‘You have no right,’ she said sharply. ‘You have no claim on me that gives you the right to speak to me like this.’ Rage took her across the room without even thinking where she was going.

Sorcha shut the door from Grainne’s chamber firmly, and leant against the solidity of the wood. Brede glanced up to see her setting wards.

‘What are you doing that for?’ she asked.

Sorcha shook her head.

‘Giving in to my temper,’ she said, pulling the binding from her hair and shaking it loose.

‘Grainne has made you angry?’

Sorcha nodded. Brede breathed deeply, filling her lungs with the scent of herbs. ‘How is it possible?’ Brede asked softly. ‘Is this friendship of thirty years at risk?’

Sorcha laughed.

‘I wouldn’t go that far. It is only that I am –’

‘Tired, hungry, lonely, burdened, frightened..?’

Sorcha raised an eyebrow; half tempted to argue with Brede too.

‘Yes; but more than all of those. I am failing Grainne, and failing you.’

‘Grainne said that, but it was me she was blaming. I don’t know how to be the person she thinks I should be. She set me to guard, but she expects more; she thinks I’ll discover her enemy, but I’ve no idea how.’

‘She can’t expect –’

‘If I were to solve this riddle for Grainne – I think – perhaps – I hope – you will stop looking haunted, perhaps you’ll stop look at the world askance – maybe you will look straight at me; maybe Grainne will release us.’

‘Do I not look straight at you?’

‘No. Everything you do is warped by worrying about Grainne – but Grainne sees you look askance because you are thinking about me. And she is right, Sorcha – I think the same – I
do
the same. I can hardly think of anything but the glorious smell of your hair.’

‘Brede –’

‘My preferred suspect is Madoc, but he wasn’t here and I can see no cause although Jodis was bonded to Doran, who is Madoc’s man – I think Jodis’ stones were meant for me, but Grainne’s paranoia is catching. I’m suspicious of everyone, even you. Bewitched, so I am. Tegan tried to tell me, and I didn’t believe her, but how can I ignore Grainne, who has known you thirty years, and knows why you do not look that age, who
knows
you can disappear into thin air?’ Brede let go of Sorcha’s hand and stepped away. ‘You scare me,’ she said abruptly.’What do you want of me? You can’t need me; I’m useless to Grainne, and to you. You have isolated me,’ Brede took a shaky breath, incapable of finishing that thought, burdened as it was with so much. ‘But for what purpose?’

Faint voices on the stairs prevented Sorcha from any answer. She turned swiftly and went in to Grainne. Brede bit down on her uneasiness and went out to the stairs, and found Tegan.

‘How is Grainne?’ Tegan asked.

‘Looking for someone to blame.’

Tegan frowned. ‘I’ll need to see her later, there’s something I must check first – but I’ve a message for you, from Eachan. He says you might find something of interest at West Gate Inn. Does that make sense to you?’

‘Not necessarily.’ Brede frowned, trying to fathom Eachan.

‘Why did Grainne choose you?’ Tegan asked. ‘Why didn’t she ask me?’

‘She did ask you, Tegan. She said that she wanted the use of your eyes, remember? She wanted you out there looking.’

‘That’s true, but she’s not listening to what I see.’ Tegan held Brede’s gaze for a while. ‘You’ve been avoiding us these last months. We are of the same household; we have the same employer. We need to talk more.’ She hesitated. ‘We are still friends?’

Brede clasped Tegan to her, in an easy, light grip. ‘Don’t be such an idiot,’ she said softly. ‘I’m long past doubting you.’

Tegan gazed into her eyes, and rested a hand against Brede’s face.

‘And Eachan says you have issue to take with Madoc.’

‘I have.’

‘Have a care. That one was always trouble.’

‘I’ll remember that.’ Brede said dryly. The door opened softly behind her and Tegan glanced across catching sight of Sorcha.

‘I must go,’ Tegan said, and kissed Brede lightly on the mouth, then pulled away, and took the stairs two at a time.

‘What was that?’ Sorcha asked.

‘I’m not sure,’ Brede admitted. She reached for Sorcha, pulling her into her arms, seeking reassurance, holding her far closer and with greater urgency than she had held Tegan.

‘Well,’ said Sorcha, ‘you lose no time, one lover kissed and another embraced, in the time it takes to spit.’

‘But are you my lover?’

‘I hope so,’ Sorcha answered. ‘Is Tegan?’

‘No,’ Brede said, dismissing that almost closeness from her mind. ‘Whereas,’ she said, holding Sorcha even tighter, ‘I have reason to make plans, where you’re concerned.’

‘As do I. Grainne has – suggested – we take some leave.’

‘Now?’ Brede asked, perturbed.

‘Immediately. She wants to be undisturbed by us.’

‘Are you happy with that?’

‘How can I be? It is insanity. But she is the Queen.’

‘And what shall we do with this unwanted freedom?’ Brede asked.

Sorcha blinked. ‘There is a festival on. We could dance? We could – we could sing, get drunk – spend some of our wages –’

‘Can you think of nothing better than that?’

‘I’d be glad to take Macsen out.’

Brede frowned, not sure that she was being teased.

‘I’ll go see about his gear, then, shall I?’ she asked, starting for the stairs.

Sorcha allowed her a few steps before calling after her, ‘I’ll meet you in the stables.’

Brede stopped, and looked back at her.

‘I must make sure Grainne is as well as she can be. I shouldn’t leave her, whatever she says, but if she insists, I can’t enjoy myself if I’m worrying about her.’ Ask Eachan if he knows any inns with comfortable beds.’

‘Why should I do that?’ Brede asked, irritably.

‘I thought you’d want a comfortable bed, if we’re to be in it for as long as I plan,’ Sorcha whispered.

Brede watched her go, her words settling into her mind, blanketing, smoothing, and disguising the uncertain ground beneath.