Flame of Sevenwaters (19 page)

“But my fey heritage is of that darker kind, as is Cathal’s? What kind of a being does that make me? Is that what you were going to ask?”

He did not sound at all angry or offended, merely a little sad.

“I was, but now it seems impertinent. I apologize.”

“Not at all, Maeve. It is rare for me to conduct such a conversation, that is true, but I know you will betray no confidences. Your gift with animals extends, I think, to men and women as well. To troubled small boys. Also to a troubled half man who will never be chief druid. From my father, I inherited the ability to be a leader. Loyalty to Sevenwaters. The capacity to love and to have my heart broken. From my mother I inherited the long life of the Fair Folk, and a certain gift with…you might call it magic, or spellcraft, or sorcery. These days I make little use of that craft. I chose to follow the path of light when I returned here some years ago, after the great battle in which both your father and your uncle Bran fought so bravely. Making that choice did not mean I lost my other abilities. They are considerable. They are perilous. Cathal possesses similar gifts, perhaps greater than mine, for his lineage includes a third element, the blood of the Sea People. Between us, we could wield a mighty magic.”

My eyes were popping out of my head. I summoned a calm tone. “You mean you could defeat Mac Dara, you and Cathal together? Drive him away from Sevenwaters forever?”

“No war is won without losses,” Ciarán said. “Cathal places his wife and children above everything. Clodagh’s love transformed his life. I do not think he will take any step that might endanger his dear ones. There is no doubt what Mac Dara wants—if
he cannot bring Cathal back by fair means or foul, he will pursue Cathal’s son. He has no conscience. He stole Finbar away. He would have discarded the changeling child without a second thought. Those are two drops in a whole well of ill deeds, of which the Disappearance is one of the cruelest and the most public. Could we drive him away? Maybe. Maybe not. A failed attempt could have disastrous consequences. It might leave Sevenwaters, and your father, in far worse strife than would be created by taking no action at all.”

This seemed a deeply unsatisfactory answer. “Even the most powerful tyrant must have a weak spot,” I mused, putting one hand casually down by my side, where Bear might perhaps creep close enough to sniff it. He was right by the corner of the walled garden, head down, eyes on me, tail tentatively wagging. It was a minor miracle.

“I agree, Maeve. The challenge is finding that weak spot before the damage becomes irreparable.”

“Is Mac Dara so very powerful? Cathal and Clodagh managed to save Finbar from his clutches. And when Cathal was trapped in the Otherworld, Clodagh rescued him. I don’t remember my sister as being in any way magical, only rather strong-minded.”

Ciarán smiled. “Mac Dara underestimated his son’s talent, and his patience. He overlooked Cathal’s preparedness to harness the goodwill of what Mac Dara would consider lesser races, the Old Ones in particular. He did not understand Clodagh’s remarkable inner strength, nor her…I am not sure what to call it, but your sister has a power that comes from deep down. She’s a remarkable maker and mender. She has a gift that runs very close to natural magic. Her enemy didn’t see that. A great error on his part.” He hesitated. “Cathal and Clodagh escaped, yes, and Finbar does not seem harmed by his experience. But Mac Dara is not defeated. They won a small battle. The war is yet to come.”

A cold nose nudged my hand. “Warm hearth,” I murmured, not looking at the dog. “Full belly. Kind hands and quiet.” And, when a tongue came out to lick, “Good boy, Bear.”

Ciarán smiled. “That name suits the creature.” He, too, kept his
voice to a murmur. “Did you say you wanted to check the other dog was not injured? If you think he will come close enough, perhaps I could hold him while you look.”

“Isn’t the other one a female?” As I moved my hand to rub Bear gently behind the ears, I risked a glance toward Badger. She was standing in the open, a few steps out from the tiny hut that housed the privy. She looked a little shaky on her legs, but I could see no obvious wounds. And on second glance…“You’re right,” I said. “Badger’s a boy. I won’t try to touch him yet; I’ll wait until he’s prepared to come close to me. Otherwise it’s a dive and grab, and that would likely send both of them running straight back into the forest. Whatever has befallen them, it has frightened them half to death. That’s it, Bear, good boy.”

Ciarán rose to his feet, keeping the movement slow and steady. Bear froze under my hand, a growl rumbling in his throat.

“Ssst!” I made my warning sound, and to my intense surprise, the dog fell immediately silent. Badger stayed where he was, following his companion’s lead.

“We’ll talk again soon,” Ciarán said quietly. “You mentioned Mac Dara’s weak spot. I, too, have been considering that, since a remark of Finbar’s put the idea into my mind. I have an idea of where to start looking. I should do so sooner rather than later, I believe. At some point your father must have another talk with Cruinn of Tirconnell. He must tell him the most thorough and lengthy search anyone could set in place has failed to find any trace of the four men still missing. I fear even the most splendid horse in all Erin will be insufficient to calm Cruinn’s rage. Thank you for talking to me, Maeve.”

“And you,” I said. “You’re a stranger to these dogs, yet they seem to trust you. Perhaps you don’t know how remarkable that is.”

“There is something remarkable here, yes. But it has nothing to do with me.” With that cryptic utterance, my uncle walked around the corner of the cottage and out of sight.

Later, when Emrys had headed off to the keep and Rhian had returned to the house, I got up, told Bear to stay, and went indoors
myself. My handmaid was up to the wrists in a sticky mess of boiled barley and shredded chicken, for Emrys had been given a plucked and gutted bird to bring down for us—Mother was not prepared to leave us entirely to our own devices. No doubt Rhian’s efforts would result in a tasty meal, however unappetizing the mixture might look at present.

“May I take some of that now?” I asked her, glancing back toward the door, which I had left open.

“Their share’s on the shelf.” Rhian jerked her head toward a platter of chicken flesh set aside. “I saw they’d come up close; thought I’d better not draw attention to myself. I did set a water bowl out the front.”

“Thank you.” Her cheeks were looking flushed, and perhaps not only from her labors over the fire. “Emrys stayed a long time today.”

“Huh! The man’s transparent, the way he tries out his supposed charms on me. It never worked at Harrowfield, so why should it be any different now?”

“Don’t ask me,” I said, thinking I could see a new brightness in her eyes. “I know nothing about men. Emrys may not be very handsome, with those big ears, but I’d have thought he’d be a reasonable catch for someone. A man who’s kind with horses would be kind with women, too. Of course, he’s pretty quiet. You’d have to do all the talking. But you’re good at that.”

“Stop it!” Rhian flicked a cloth in my direction, grinning. “It’s a sign of how desperate things are that I bother stopping to chat with the man when I take him his food and drink in the afternoons. A fellow’s scarcely at his most appealing when he’s all over sweat and stinks of horse. Now off with you and feed your babies out there. I think I see one of them just beyond the door. Next thing the two of them will be sleeping on your bed and you’ll be on the floor.”

I set the platter down just outside the door, then sat close by it on the step. Tonight’s supper could not be seized and carried away, as it was all shreds. If the dogs wanted to eat, they’d need to do it within an arm’s length of me.

I had seen Bear close to the doorway earlier, but when I came out he had retreated to the corner of the house. He would not eat before Badger. I sat in silence, making sure I looked away from them, over to the field where Swift was grazing quietly, tired out from his afternoon’s work with Emrys. The yearling was making steady progress after the setback of the journey. He walked calmly on the leading rope now, even beyond the familiar field. He was prepared to submit to various indignities such as having his hooves inspected. It might not be long before he could go back to the stables, provided Duald understood he must be trained with kindness. I was going to have to talk to Father.

Bear crept up to the platter, seized a sliver of chicken, padded back to his companion. He dropped the meat at Badger’s feet. A snatch, a gulp, and the morsel was gone. Scarcely one mouthful.

“Bear. Come.” I pushed the platter a little farther in their direction, not turning.

The silence drew out, punctuated only by the sleepy conversation of hens as they settled for the night, their coop now closed against the fox. It was all a bit upside down, I thought, staring pointedly away from the spot where someone was moving the platter around as if applying an enthusiastic tongue. Lock in the chickens over there and leave the fox hungry; share a chicken with hungry dogs over here. There was no right and wrong about it, only a choice about survival.

“Well, then,” I murmured, “the two of you have fallen on your feet at last. You look as if you’re overdue for a bit of good luck.”

The food was gone, the platter empty. Someone was lapping noisily from the water bowl. Not Bear; he had come to hunker down beside me, as close as he could get without quite touching. Badger lifted his dripping muzzle and lowered himself to sit. He was perhaps six paces away, his eyes always on the other dog. “Good, Bear. Good, Badger. You are safe here. As safe as you can be.”

“Safe,” echoed Rhian from beyond the open door. As she spoke the dogs raised their heads in unison, but did not move. “Spoiled, she means. Where I grew up, the best the dogs got was a handful of fish guts thrown their way when the boats came in. And they
had to fight for that. No lovely ladies coaxing them with tasty morsels of meat and bowls of rabbit stew. All I can say is, the two of you better be on your best manners when she lets you inside. I’m not sleeping with a pack of smelly, flea-ridden good-for-nothings. Catch a rat or two, and I might start to think you’re earning your keep.”

“They’re still right near me,” I said. “And Bear’s letting me stroke him.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” said Rhian. “They feel it, the same as Swift does. The touch, or whatever it is you have. They know they can trust you. The question is, can you trust them not to take over the house and have the two of us running around after them?”

“Bear’s already responding to my commands. Badger may be more difficult, but all he needs is time. As for flea-ridden, we’ll give them a bath before they come inside.”

Rhian had come out onto the step, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Easy, Bear,” I murmured. Then, “What?” as I realized my handmaid had turned a particular expression on me. Our mutual understanding could occasionally be somewhat awkward.

“You have a new look in your eye,” Rhian said, in uncanny echo of what I had felt on seeing her come in from her sojourn with Emrys. “A new brightness in your face. You look…happy.”

“Is that so amazing?”

“It is, that a little thing like a dog can bring such a change.”

“It’s not the dog himself, though he is a fine creature. They both are. It’s that they are learning so quickly and that I may really be able to help them. Having a purpose makes me content, Rhian. That’s all it is.” She was right, of course. I had not felt such a surge of well-being since the days back at Harrowfield when Swift was young, and we began to discover what a remarkable creature we had on our hands. “Yes, all right, you’re remarkable, too,” I muttered in Bear’s ear. “And your friend, once he learns to trust me a bit more. Now I’m fetching you a couple of sacks, so you can sleep out here and guard the door. No coming in until you’ve had that bath.”

CHAPTER 7

F allen leaves crunched under my shoes as I walked. Overhead, the green canopy still cast its shade, but that shade was less deep than before, with autumn’s touch loosening the summer garments of the oaks and setting shivers through birch and elder. The air was cool and crisp; I had a shawl tied around my shoulders.

I had assured Rhian that I could manage quite well without her on the walk up to the keep, and that if I needed an escort on the way back I would ask for one. She didn’t like me to go off into the forest alone in case I should be faced with a challenge that required a functioning pair of hands. She imagined a pack of wolves, maybe, and the need to climb a tree with speed. Or a fall into a hole and a broken leg. Rhian also knew I valued my independence, so when I had said Bear and Badger were more than adequate as a safeguard, and that it was not as if this was an unfamiliar path or a walk by night, she had raised no arguments. Besides, though neither of us had mentioned it, Emrys would be at the nemetons later working with Swift, and he did rather like it when Rhian was there in person to give him his refreshments. If
anyone was getting spoiled, maybe it was a certain love-struck groom.

This was the first time I had taken the dogs to the keep with me, but we had been practicing against this possibility. They had walked halfway there and back again with me and Rhian several times now. They had learned to stay quiet and calm while Emrys or Donal worked with Swift in the field or on the tracks around the clearing. They had learned not to bark at the cows or the druids. As for sleeping arrangements, I had not been displaced from my bed as Rhian had anticipated. Bear would have slept inside readily, but Badger did not like to be in the cottage when the door was closed. When night fell and Rhian began to secure our abode with shutters and bolts, he always went out to lie on the old sacks beyond the door. Bear would generally cast a sad-eyed look in my direction as he followed, but he would not leave Badger on his own. I had never before seen a dog with eyes of such a remarkable color as Bear’s, a mellow, lustrous gold-brown. Against his black coat, now glossy with good care, they were striking indeed.