The Last Quarrel (The Complete Edition) (5 page)

“Would you rather I told my father you made me do it?” Cavan asked.

Niall scrambled up the ladder as Cavan began opening cupboard doors and drawers at random. There were cooking pots, spoons and knives and food but nothing that looked like butchered children.

“Find anything upstairs?” Cavan called.

“A few old dresses but nothing a child’s size.” Niall scrambled back down the ladder with relief.

Cavan flopped down onto the hard wooden chair. “She was no witch,” he said bitterly.

“Maybe she killed them elsewhere. Maybe this was just the place she used to trick them and then she smuggled them out of the city with magic,” Eamon suggested.

“Do you really think that?”

“No,” Eamon admitted.

Cavan buried his head in his hands.
My father just murdered a woman and I helped him do it. How can Aroaril ever forgive me? How can I forgive myself?

“Highness, it wasn’t your fault. There was nothing you could do,” Eamon said.

Cavan looked up. “I could have stood up to my father.”

The looks on their faces were the only answer he needed.

“Well, there is something I can do now,” he said.

“Go along to the chapel dedication, so we’re not late and word doesn’t get back to your father?” Niall asked hopefully.

“If Widow Eithne didn’t take those children, then somebody else did. We’re going to find them and drag them before my father,” Cavan said determinedly, pushing himself to his feet.

“An excellent idea, highness. But can we do the chapel thing first?”

“Can you feel any magic has been used here?” Fallon asked sharply.

Padraig gestured expansively, waving his left arm so wide that Devlin was forced to duck before he was hit.

“My son, magic is an expensive business. It costs the wizard an enormous amount. I feel we should talk about payment before I talk any further. You had your men haul me out of my home and drag me all the way here like a common thief. One of my best robes was completely ruined by those oafs. Worse, you never let me see my grandson. You’re lucky I don’t turn you all into earthworms and watch you wriggle!”

Fallon looked at the dirty green robe and patched cloak the old man was wearing, stained with food, wine and at least three other things he didn’t want to think about. “Is that right, Gall?” he asked.

“He was passed out in front of his house and we had to dump two buckets of water on him before he woke up,” Gallagher said calmly.

“You owe the Duke a duty. Half of everything you make is his. Perhaps I should ask around and see how much you have earned these last few moons, and how much the Duke has been given,” Fallon said harshly.

Padraig belched. “Everyone cheats the Duke. He knows that.”

“I’ll tell Bridgit you’ve been spending your money on drink, rather than food,” Fallon threatened.

Padraig’s eyes narrowed. “Now that is fighting dirty, son. I never expected something so low from the likes of you.”

“Times are hard. And I’m not your son.”

Padraig sighed. “How about a hot meal from Bridgit and a nice bottle of something and we call it even?”

“How about a plate of stew from Brendan’s wife and a mug of ale?”

“Done!” Padraig clasped Fallon’s hand and waved it up and down.

Fallon pulled his hand away. The closer you got to the old wizard, the worse he smelled. His long grey hair looked as though it hadn’t been washed in moons, while there seemed to be strange objects caught in his tangled beard. His eyes seemed to wander about independently of one another and his bulbous nose had the reddish tinge of the serious drinker. It was a mark of how sick Kerrin had been lately that he looked so bad. Bridgit usually made sure he had clean clothes and something to eat.

“Start doing whatever you need to do. Tell me if there was magic used.” Fallon pointed him towards the stern cabin on the ship.

“Wind must be up tonight. The waves are rocking this ship terribly,” Padraig announced as he weaved his way towards the cabin.

“We’re not moving,” Fallon sighed. The sails were down and the ship was lodged fast in the ground. Just to make sure, he had ordered the anchor dug into the ground and ropes from the decks tied to long metal pegs Brendan had hammered into the sand.

“He’ll have a hard time finding his arse with both hands and a map,” Devlin said in wonderment. “How is he going to tell if magic has been used?”

“Tell me again, Sister, why we needed him,” Fallon invited.

“There is a difference between the natural magic that men and women like Padraig can use, and the magic that those favored of Aroaril can wield,” she replied tiredly. “I am just like you. I can neither sense nor use the natural magic that is around us. I can only use what Aroaril gives me, in exchange for prayers and study and good works. The priests of Zorva are like the men and women of the church in that, but are otherwise the opposite of us. They are given power in exchange for blood – human sacrifice. That leaves a mark on everything it touches. There was none of that here, as I said, but someone could have been using natural magic. I just cannot feel that. It is one thing I cannot ask from Aroaril, although he gives me many things, as he gives gifts to us all.”

“Hmmph,” Gallagher snorted. “I’ll go and see what the drunk is doing. He’s probably trying to eat the Duke’s last meal.”

They watched him stride away.

“Why doesn’t he like me?” Sister Rosaleen asked softly.

“It’s not you, Sister,” Devlin said gently. “Gallagher lost his wife and daughter in childbirth and then his sons were lost to fever while he was caught in a storm. He blames Aroaril for it.”

“That is terrible. The poor man: no wonder he carries so much pain. But he needs to open his heart to Aroaril, for only that way can he find peace. I shall speak to him.”

“You will do no such thing!” Fallon growled, catching her arm. “He will talk when he is good and ready and not before. We are his friends and he will tell us when he is ready to find peace.”

Rosaleen glared at Fallon and he let go of her arm but stepped closer to her.

“Sister, please, I beg you. Don’t reopen old wounds. Trust us – we know him best. I promise we will bring him to you when he is ready.”

Rosaleen sighed. “You promise you will get him talking, let him know that I can guide him back to peace?”

“Of course, Sister.”

“Well then. I shall take my leave. I shall pray for answers to this mystery.”

Fallon and Devlin watcher her step down the ladder that Brendan had rigged at the side of the boat.

“Fallon, remind me – how long ago did Gall’s boys die?” Devlin asked softly.

“A good five years,” Fallon admitted.

“And how often do we talk about it with him?”

“We never have.”

“Aye, that was what I thought. Sister might be waiting a while then.”

“Just a little while,” Fallon said.

They watched Padraig reel out of the cabin, stagger across the deck and fall into the hold with a splash.

“I really don’t think he could find his arse,” Devlin said.

“Let’s get him out of there. He’s not finished yet,” Fallon sighed.

Padraig thawed out in Brendan’s smithy with a mug of beer and a bowl of stew, mopping up the last of the gravy with a hunk of bread. Brendan’s wife Nola had brought out the food and drink but forbidden the old wizard from stepping inside their home.

“We’d never get the smell out,” she told him.

Padraig had not seemed concerned in the slightest by that and instead launched into the food. “Delicious,” he mumbled through a full mouth. “Shame about my robe though. Fallon, maybe you could ask Bridgit to whip me up a new one. Nothing much, just some gold fringes and a nice bright color –”

“That was the first wash your robe had in moons,” Fallon interrupted. “When it dries out it’ll be fine. Now, was there any magic?

Padraig went to belch, covered his mouth, then raised himself slightly in his seat and let go with a thunderous fart.

“That would singe the beard off Aroaril! What have you been eating?” Devlin gasped.

“Not too sure,” Padraig admitted. “After I have a bottle or two, it gets a little misty. Fallon, has my daughter brought me anything strange to eat recently?”

“The magic!” Fallon snarled, thumping the anvil.

“Nothing,” Padraig said.

“Anywhere?”

“What part of
nothing
don’t you understand? There was no magic used on that ship.”

“And you are sure?” Fallon insisted.

Padraig put down his plate and mug. “Listen, son,” he said hoarsely. “I have been around magic all my life. Dragons used to take me flying when I was a boy. I once worked in Berry, before it all went to shit on me. The older I get, the harder it is to use it, the more I long for it, the more I dream about it, the more I have to drown my sorrows in whatever I can find. Once I could move mountains. Now I struggle to move my own bowels. Do you know what that does to you? When you lose the one thing in your life that means everything to you?”

“I know some of what you speak,” Fallon admitted at last. He had known Padraig for more than twenty years and in that time always he had played the old fool. He had never heard him speak like this.

“Then trust me. I know magic. I can smell it out better than I can a full bottle on a table full of empties. And I tell you now, there was none used on that ship.”

The four of them left him to wrap himself in an old blanket by the remains of Brendan’s fire.

“Do you trust him?” Devlin asked.

“Aye. I do now,” Fallon admitted.

“Then what happened to the Duke’s ship?”

“I don’t know. Yet. But tomorrow I’ll ride to tell the Duchess and tell her what we’ve found. After I explain to Bridgit why Kerrin was down the water with me.”

“What about the poachers who’ve been stealing my lambs? I thought you were going to look for them tonight?” Devlin protested.

“There are more important things to do now,” Fallon said.

Fallon took a deep breath as he got closer to his house but refused to slow his pace. After all, he had jumped into a dark hold that might have contained selkies, so he told himself this was nothing. He reached for the door handle but it was pulled open from the inside.

Bridgit stepped out, closing the door behind her and stood there, arms crossed. She was not a tall woman and, at close to forty summers, not as slim as when they had first married. She had never been seen as the most beautiful woman in the village by anyone but Fallon, who was still convinced of that. Her face did light up when she smiled, but now she was frowning at him. Her blonde hair was tousled and her green eyes flashed a warning Fallon knew only too well.

“I didn’t know that was going to happen,” he protested. “You know I’d never knowingly put him in danger.”

“You shouldn’t have taken him down to see the Duke anyway,” she said heatedly. “He’s going to have nightmares tonight and guess who will have to sit up with him?”

“I will. I’ll tell him what happened,” Fallon offered.

“Fallon, your blarney might have pulled the wool over my eyes twenty years ago but I know you too well now,” she interrupted. “You took him down there and then you told him to run home and he’s just got over that cough. After getting all worked up and running as well he will be coughing again tonight and I’ll be the one making a poultice for his chest and having to pay Sister Rosaleen to say prayers for him, then sitting up all night listening to him cough and to you snore.”

“I do not snore!” Fallon protested.

“But you know he will be coughing!” she pounced.

Fallon sighed. “I am sorry. But you know I would give my life to protect him, to protect both of you. And if you are worried about his chest then let me train him. I’ll be careful and in a few moons you won’t know the difference.”

“We have been over this often enough. He is not strong enough.”

Fallon rolled his eyes. “That’s the whole point!”

“If you want to be sleeping downstairs on the floor, then you are going the right way,” she warned.

Fallon sighed. She had threatened that often enough but never followed through. Still, he had plans for the night, so decided to change his attack. “As always you are right. I won’t do that again. I promise he won’t get anywhere near selkies or witches or anything strange ever again. The only shame about the whole thing is the Duke is missing and I never got the chance to present the most beautiful woman in Baltimore to him. Although maybe that was for the best – he might have wanted to steal you away!”

Bridgit shook her head. “What did I say about your blarney? Your eyes must be failing if you think I’m the most beautiful woman in Baltimore.”

“I don’t just think it. I know it,” he said, stepping closer and holding her close.

She resisted for a moment then snuggled into him. “Do you know what happened?” she asked.

“Well, I know it wasn’t selkies. Rosaleen and Padraig went over the ship with me and neither found any magic. But it all looks suspicious. I found a strange crossbow bolt and I think someone is trying to make it look like a mystery to cover their tracks. This could be my chance, Bridge. All these years I have trained and worked, to be ready to show what I can do, and then this happens!”

She pulled away from him. “Oh no,” she said firmly. “This is not something you want to be involved in.”

“I don’t have a choice!” Fallon protested.

“But you do. You could hand it over to Captain Hagen at Lunster castle, not keep it for yourself.”

Fallon was spared the need to reply by Gallagher clearing his throat behind them.

“What is it, Gall?” Fallon turned, with a little relief.

“There’s a few boys had too much to drink and they’re getting out of control,” Gallagher said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, down towards the village meeting hall.

“I have to go. I’ll be back soon and we’ll talk then,” Fallon told her.

“We will indeed,” she agreed.

Fallon grabbed his shillelagh, which always sat behind the door, and winked at her. The comforting weight of the wooden club gave him instant confidence. He always practiced with the sword but he actually used the traditional wooden Gaelish club. As long as his leg and as thick as his wrist, it was the perfect weapon to keep the peace.

“How bad?” he asked Gallagher as they walked back down the slope.

“Pretty bad. It all started as boasting about killing selkies, then it turned ugly. It’s those idiot brothers Sean and Seamus and two of their cousins come over from the village of Killarney. They are looking for a fight and not letting anyone leave the meeting hall. Do you want me to go and get Brendan and Devlin?”

Fallon shook his head. He knew Brendan would stand by him but the big smith hated violence. Devlin on the other hand was more likely to say something to start a fight. “The day I can’t take those two idiots Sean and Seamus is the day I hang up the Duke’s tunic. Besides, if I deal with it then it’s a matter for the Duke. If we rouse the whole village against them then there’ll just be bad blood between Baltimore and Killarney.”

He could hear the noise when they were twenty yards away from the hall, drunken singing and swearing and shouting. He was not the only one, either. People were poking heads out of their houses and looking towards the meeting hall.

“Go back inside! Nothing to worry about!” Fallon called out as he walked past. Most believed him and went back into their houses – some of the more curious ones followed him down at a distance, eager to see what was happening.

“We should charge for this. You could make a sweet profit on it,” Gallagher said dryly.

The meeting hall was in many ways the heart of the village. Women gathered there during the day so their children could meet and play and they could talk while they worked, while men gathered there in the evening, to drink ale and talk away the day’s work. Sometimes they drank too much and that was when Fallon was called.