The Well of Shades (33 page)

The messenger dismissed, the three men exchanged looks that spoke more than words could convey.

“Why would Keother bring this young woman?” Aniel murmured. “She’s Ana’s sister,
I presume. It’s as good as
asking us to take her hostage, especially after his failure to provide so much as a single warrior for our endeavor against the Gaels.”

“Keother is no fool,” said Tharan. “He’s up to something. What’s his motive? Is he trying to placate you, Bridei?”

“We’ll be in a better position to assess that when we meet him face to face,” Bridei said. “He’ll have to be received
with appropriate formality and allocated the best chambers. Tuala will have to move Talorgen and Brethana. And there’s the question of Ana.”

“Mm,” said Aniel. “I wonder if the young lady’s come simply in hopes of attending her sister’s wedding? We’d best dispatch a messenger to Pitnochie.”

“Indeed,” Bridei said. “With Keother on our doorstep, a wedding is most certainly called for. I don’t imagine
Drustan and Ana will have any objections. The current situation cannot continue indefinitely, or we’d give her cousin entirely reasonable grounds for complaint. That the formal handfasting has been delayed while Drustan and Ana live in every other respect as man and wife is… unconventional. Unexpected visit or no, they must marry before they travel back to Briar Wood.”

“We’ll be needing a druid,”
said Tharan. “Do you believe Broichan will return in time, Bridei?” His tone was delicate; it was a difficult issue. Theories abounded at court on where the king’s druid had vanished to, and why. Some of them were foolish, others verging on scurrilous. The longer Broichan stayed away, the more imaginative the gossip grew.

“We must summon another druid. There’s a man at Abertornie, a lone mage
by the name of Amnost. He should be prepared to travel if we provide safeguards.” Bridei did not mention Broichan. Nonetheless, his foster father’s absence loomed large. Tuala remained confident Broichan would return when the time was right. It seemed to Bridei there could be no better time than this,
and that if his foster father did not come now, perhaps the rumor that he had perished alone
in the forest was true. It had been a harsh winter.

“Very well,” Aniel said. “A written message to Lady Ana, I think. Tell me what you want in it, Bridei, and I’ll do the scribing and dispatch it with a reliable man today. A verbal message to Loura at Abertornie, asking her to bring this Amnost when she and her children come to court.” The recognition due to Ged of Abertornie, who had fallen
in the last great battle for Dalriada, was to be given to his wife and son. There was still time to get a message to them before they rode out from home.

“And I’ll warn Tuala to expect still more visitors,” said Bridei.

It was not a good time. Occupied as he had been with preparations for the gathering, the king was well aware of how exhausted his wife was and how Broichan’s absence had given
her an additional burden in the final stages of her pregnancy: dealing with Derelei’s budding abilities. Bridei felt a constant, nagging ache in his belly that he knew was worry about his wife. He feared the rigors of childbirth, the poisonous tongues of visitors to court, the weight Tuala carried as mistress of the royal household at such an important time. The look in her eyes concerned him more
than he would ever tell her. He saw that she felt tired, anxious, perhaps guilty. That this last was without foundation made no difference. Broichan was a grown man. The decision to leave had been his alone. That did not stop Tuala from believing it was her fault for confronting the druid with her unwelcome vision of kinship.

Let her be well
, Bridei asked the gods as he made his way to his private
quarters with his guard Dovran an arm’s length behind.
Let her come through this safely. Let the child be born whole and sound. That is all I ask
. He knew in his heart the power the dark god held over him; his own past disobedience and the penalty that might at
any time be demanded in compensation.
Not now
, he thought.
And if it must come, strike me, not them. Not my dear ones
.

He had hoped to
find Tuala resting, but she was in the small reception chamber with two older women: Tharan’s wife, Dorica, and Rhian, widow of the previous king, Drust the Bull. Dorica stood as the king came in. Rhian inclined her head.

“Bridei,” said Tuala with a wan smile. “We’ve just been making some plans, moving folk around a little and ensuring everything’s in place for such an influx of guests. I have
a feeling I won’t be able to help for much longer.”

“What are you saying? Have your pains begun?” He was alarmed.

“Not yet, but I think it will be within a day or so. Elda has predicted it will be tomorrow night. I hope Fola will be here in time.”

“Now, my lady,” Dorica said, “you just forget about supplies and bedchambers and keeping folk entertained, and concentrate on yourself for a little.
We have everything under control, and more helpers coming in from the settlement. You’re not to worry.”

“Indeed not.” Queen Rhian rose to her feet, a plump, dignified figure. “I’ve done this more times than you can possibly imagine, Tuala.”

“I have to tell you the king of the Light Isles is on his way,” Bridei said, “and with him Ana’s younger sister. They’re at Caer Pridne. It looks as if a
wedding’s in order.” He saw Tuala’s brave attempt at a smile, and went to sit by her side, holding her hand. Dorica and Rhian made their farewells and left the royal apartments. Dovran pulled the door closed. He would remain on duty outside.

“I’m sorry, Bridei,” Tuala said, touching her husband’s cheek. “I want to be more help. This is such a difficult time for you. But I’m so tired. And worried
about Derelei. Thank the gods Bedo and Uric have turned their hands to a spot of nursemaiding, if it can be called that. We owe those lads a great deal. The little ones are so exhausted
at the end of the day they fall into their beds the moment they’ve finished their supper. Derelei is simply too weary to think of attempting more perilous pursuits than running, climbing, and riding down steep
slopes on makeshift vehicles. Still, with the weather improving, Talorgen’s sons are going to want to return to more manly pursuits such as hunting and practicing their combat skills, I imagine.”

“Derelei will need careful watching with so many folk here,” Bridei said. “I won’t express a wish that Broichan return, though I know he’s the one we need. We should speak to Fola of our concerns when
she comes.”

Tuala nodded gravely. “I shrink from the idea of sending our son away,” she said. “He’s too little. But he’s a danger to all of us until he’s old enough to understand the need to curb his gift. If he can turn his friend into a dog over the temporary possession of a ball, what havoc could he wreak in a hall full of the most powerful folk in Fortriu, should something happen to displease
him?”

“Worse,” said Bridei, “what might the unscrupulous seek to use him for, should they witness the raw power at his disposal?”

“I’ve tried to show him how to harness it.” Tuala sounded miserable. “My lack of formal training makes it difficult, as does the need to keep what we’re doing relatively covert. I’m barely beginning to learn the extent of my own abilities. No wonder I cannot exert
proper discipline over Derelei’s.”

“With both Fola and Ferada coming to court,” said Bridei, “you’ll have expert advice and practical help. Leave the household arrangements to Dorica; between them, she and Queen Rhian can cope with whatever is required. You need not do anything but rest, keep well, and prepare for our child’s birth. Tomorrow, you said? Do you think the prediction is accurate?”

“Apparently Elda’s never been wrong before,” Tuala said. “I’m sorry, in a way. I’d have liked to take an active part in planning Ana’s wedding.”

Bridei smiled. “If this visit by Keother means Ana and Drustan are handfasted and away from White Hill before Faolan gets back, it can only be to the good. I gave him an undertaking that I’d try to ensure they were gone before his return.”

“Poor Faolan.
It would be altogether too sad if he arrived at White Hill just in time to see his beloved wed another man. He was not at all himself when they came back from the north. I had never thought to see him so unmanned.”

“I don’t expect him back so soon,” Bridei said. “His missions were various and complex, his return to this shore dependent on clement weather and the availability of passage. As for
his devotion to Ana, I saw how that had changed him, and I think what awaited him on his home shore might have wrought still more changes. There was a dark secret there, something only Drustan and Ana were privy to.”

“Is it possible he, too, will not return?” Tuala’s voice was small; she leaned her head on Bridei’s shoulder, holding his arm, and he was reminded of the way she had embraced him
when they were children and sharing bedtime stories.

“He, too?” he queried. “I thought you possessed an unshakable faith that Broichan would stroll up the hill one day, cloak swirling in the breeze, ready to pick up the tools of his trade as if he’d never been away.”

“I do,” she said simply. “What I don’t know is how long it will take. I see him sometimes in visions. He is always in the woods
and always alone, though I think voices speak to him. I see in his eyes a longing to return to his family and an acknowledgment that, until the gods give him leave, he cannot. As for Faolan, he has made no appearance in my visions, but I believe we need him back as urgently as we do Broichan. It’s a time of risk. Nobody deals with the protection of the king as well as Faolan does.”

“I have Garth
and Dovran, and many good folk who watch out for me,” he told her.

“All the same, there are dangers. Bridei, what about this girl, Ana’s sister? What do you plan to do? She’d be about sixteen or seventeen, wouldn’t she?”

“I’ll have to keep her here. I’m sorry, I realize it’s distasteful to you, but I see no choice in the matter. Her cousin’s behavior has been such that I’d be a fool not to make
her a hostage. Indeed, I believe it possible that Keother has anticipated such a demand and forestalled it by bringing the girl before we asked for her. Why else would they come?”

“Perhaps to see how Ana is,” Tuala said. He heard the disapproval in her tone, and it wounded him. “They’ve received your message about her betrothal to Drustan, I presume, and have journeyed here to acknowledge that.
It’s years since Ana saw them. How can we watch that reunion and then present them with the news that Ana’s sister is to replace her as your hostage? It’s like slapping your close friend in the face, Bridei. I understand the need for safeguards. I know why hostages are necessary. But this is a cruel sort of wedding gift.”

He sat silent a little. Then he said, “You think that? You think me cruel?”

“No, dear one. It is the decision that is cruel. If there is some other way, you should find it. At least wait until we meet Keother and the girl, and assess their reason for making this long journey. You owe that to Ana. After all, your first choice of husband for her proved to be quite a misguided one. It’s fortunate both for Ana and for you, as king of Fortriu, that she did not wed Alpin, but
came home with his brother instead.”

“Very well; I will delay my decision until we speak with Keother. As for Ana and Drustan, a message will go to Pitnochie today. Ana’s not stupid, Tuala. She’s going to know what’s coming.”

“All the same,” she said, “let us delay the decision until
there is no other choice. Who knows what travelers may make their way up the Glen this spring? My mirror has
shown me many images: a bright light, a billowing sail, a little child with a doll made out of rags. All coming from the west. I saw the great serpent, too, raising its head from the lake to watch them pass in wonder. Our little daughter here,” she laid a hand on her swollen belly, “will see strange sights before summer is over.”

“W
ELCOME
, K
EOTHER.
” BRIDEI stood on
the steps before White Hill’s main doorway as the king of the Light Isles rode into the courtyard with his entourage. Keother was a tall man with thick fair hair and impressive shoulders. He had brought a great number of attendants; Bridei wondered how many vessels had been required to carry the party from the islands to the shore of Fortriu.

His eyes moved to the women. There was no question
which of them was Ana’s sister. Breda had the same flawless features and rippling golden hair, though there was a subtle difference in the expression. She glanced at him, eyes cool, and favored him with a slight, formal nod.

“Lady Breda,” Bridei said, “welcome. You’ll be weary from the ride, no doubt. Please come inside. I regret that my wife is unable to greet you now. The arrival of our second
child is imminent.”

Folk craned their necks for a better look as the party from the Light Isles dismounted and swept indoors, surrounded by their own guards and the dignitaries of Bridei’s household. Everyone knew the risk this vassal king was taking in presenting both himself and his young cousin at the court of the monarch of Fortriu. The relationship between overlord and island king had long
been awkward, though Ana’s time as hostage had kept Keother in check during the early years of Bridei’s reign. Now Ana was to be married, and to a chieftain of the Caitt, a tribe that, for
all it bore the same blood and spoke the same tongue as both Fortriu and the Light Isles, had ever been a law unto itself. With Ana out of the picture, Keother appeared to be stepping into an open trap.