Flame of Sevenwaters (44 page)

“Maeve—”

“You need time, of course,” Caisin said quietly, cutting off whatever Luachan had been going to say. “This is a hard choice for you. You and your sisters have been trained to family loyalty, and of course that loyalty might call you to protect this young brother above all other things. I ask you to consider a wider view. This could save your father’s land and his position. It could bring about a time of great change. A new age.”

When the age begins to turn…
“You didn’t answer my question about fire,” I managed. It felt equally impossible to accept and refuse. How could I risk Finbar? But how could I turn down a chance to end Mac Dara’s reign? “The geis mentions burning. In your plans, where does that part come in? You know, I suppose, how much fire disturbs even a placid horse.” I found I was shivering, and wrapped my arms around myself. Finbar had spoken of fire when he told the story of the two dragons. But that story had ended halfway through, before we got to the burning.

“I do not believe it means, literally, that our adversary would burn. There is always a fire at the Grand Conclave; that meeting is our most significant gathering. You must be accustomed to ritual fire, since your family is scrupulous in its observance of the old ways.”

“I have not lived at Sevenwaters for ten years. But I do have cause to remember the use of fire for ceremonies, yes.”

“Of course,” she said calmly. “You look cold, Maeve. Will you drink a little of my cordial to restore your spirits and help you with this decision? I promise the draught will not harm you. Besides, you have already sampled it, out in the forest.”

The shivering was getting worse; I felt as if I were on a steep slope, sliding downward with no way back. “Very well,” I said. “A sip or two.” She was right—I had already tasted the potion and it had helped me considerably. I needed a clear head for this.

I had thought Caisin would snap her fingers to summon a lackey of some kind, but she got up and went out, surprising me.
And Luachan surprised me even more, removing the outer tunic he was wearing and coming to wrap it around my shoulders.

“You’re shaking,” he said. “This is too much to ask of you.”

“How can I make such a choice? I can’t risk Finbar; it’s wrong. I feel it in my bones. But if this really is the only chance to defeat Mac Dara…It can’t be. It can’t be all down to me; that’s simply ridiculous.”

“The terms of a geis can often seem somewhat ridiculous,” Luachan said. “Look at the tale of Cú Chulainn. But, odd as the details may be, the intention is entirely serious. If the verse is accurate, it seems this may spell out the end of an age, no less.” His voice was not quite steady. It seemed he, too, was overwhelmed at the immensity of this.

“If Caisin is wrong, I could die,” I said. “Finbar could die. And Mac Dara could stay right where he is, wielding power over the fey folk of Sevenwaters and tormenting the human folk until my father’s authority is quite gone.”

“That is the worst that could happen.”

“It’s too risky. At the very least, I’d want to consult Father and Ciarán before saying yes to it. We should go home, tell them about this, and if they decide we should go ahead, then we could come back in time for this Grand Conclave. Though I really doubt that my parents would let Finbar do that, no matter what depended on it.”
I want to keep him close,
Mother had said of Finbar.
To wrap him up, never to let him out of my sight.

“Would you go ahead with it if your brother were not required to be present for the fulfilment of the geis?” Luachan laid his hand over mine on the table. “Gods, you’re ice-cold! You should go off to bed and forget this until morning.”

“In the unlikely chance that I can sleep after this, my dreams will doubtless be full of Mac Dara. Luachan, what do you think we should do? Tell me honestly. Tell me what you would do if you were me.”

After a moment he said, “I can’t. I can’t put myself in your shoes. I know that you are brave and forthright, and that you don’t like other folk to make your choices for you. All I can say is that in any decision you must weigh the danger against the prize.”

“I don’t seem to be able to do that this time. Both seem monstrous, too big to contemplate.” I wondered that he had not suggested I seek the wisdom of the gods. As a druid, surely that must come first for him. Perhaps he knew how little faith I had in any deity.

“You don’t need me to remind you,” Luachan said, “that you’ve faced a monstrous challenge once before and come through it with admirable courage. Not unscathed, of course, but still fighting bravely on.”

This remark confused me. I was not sure whether I cared for it or not. The silence was just becoming awkward when Caisin returned, bearing a plain earthenware jug and three cups on a tray. The style of these, I thought, was calculated to make her potion look as innocuous as possible, like mead or ale brewed by a country wife.

She poured it and passed the cups. We sipped in silence, then she said, “I am sure you have more questions for me, Maeve.”

“Only one right now.” The cordial had set some fire in my veins. “You spoke before about there not being much time to make the decision. How much time exactly? When is the Grand Conclave?”

Caisin turned her lambent eyes on me. “It is tomorrow.”

“
Tomorrow?
” Luachan and I spoke as one.

“You understand, I am sure, why I must see your arrival in our midst at this particular time, with your horse and your brother, as no less than an act of the gods. This is meant to be.”

Struggling with the enormity of it, I said, “Or someone might have made it happen this way. Swift would not have jumped the wall and fled from his field without reason. Someone might have manipulated all of us—set it up so Finbar ran after the horse and the dogs and I followed, since there was no time to fetch help. Brought us all into the Otherworld. Lured my brother to the oak tree and put him in an enchanted sleep until I got there. Left Swift wandering where you would find him. Stolen the dogs…” Something in the quality of the silence made me falter to a stop.

“I hope you are not suggesting
I
would have done such a thing,” Caisin said, folding her hands before her on the table. “And I can assure you that none of those who are of like mind with me would have acted thus, if only because it placed both
you and your brother at risk of capture by our mutual adversary.”

“I did wonder why, when you found me and Bear out in the woods, you did not lead us straight to Finbar. If you believed Mac Dara might take us…”

“At that time I did not know about the horse or about your unusual gift. Believe me, I have come to regret my decision deeply. But you must remember that this world is not like yours. Our ways will never be fully comprehensible to you.”

Nor ours to you, I thought. As an explanation, it had been more than a little lacking. “What if Mac Dara did it?” I asked. “He may be several steps ahead of you and determined to destroy us before the geis can be fulfilled. Perhaps he knew Finbar would go after the horse and I would follow him.”

“If this were his doing,” Caisin said, “you would already be in his grip, Maeve, and your brother with you. He would not have left you wandering where I could come to your rescue. He would have ensured your brother’s sleep was eternal.”

Somewhere inside me, a little girl was whimpering,
I want to go home
. I knew that child from long ago, and I ordered her to hold her tongue.

“I’m not doing this,” I said, trying for the kind of tone Aunt Liadan might use. “Not tomorrow. It’s too soon for me to weigh up the rights and wrongs of it. Why can’t it wait until the next Grand Conclave, whenever that is?” And when nobody offered a response, I added, “I can’t make a decision like this on my own. I need to talk to my parents and Uncle Ciarán. I need to take Finbar home.”

Still Caisin said nothing. I wondered if she thought I was not in earnest.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I mean it. I won’t do it.”

“Young man,” Caisin said quietly, “will you leave us for a little? Perhaps you could see if Finbar is sleeping soundly.”

What was this? If she thought she was going to persuade me more easily if I didn’t have Luachan for support, she thought wrong.

“Maeve?” Luachan had risen, but seemed reluctant to leave me.

“All right, go,” I said somewhat ungraciously. I did think he
could have spoken up, supporting my decision. Surely he didn’t believe I should go through with this?

When he was gone, Caisin leaned forward and took my hands in hers. She fixed her eyes on mine. “I wonder if it has occurred to you, my dear,” she said, “that I might have something to offer you? Something that could make an immense difference in your life?”

I sat mute, unable to guess what she was going to say, but fairly sure I would not like it.

“Of course, your…difficulty”—a subtle glance down at my hands here, and I wondered if she’d been going to say
deformity—
“is part of the reason why you are so valuable to us all, since the nature of it is woven into the geis. I could see you thought that strange, since this is a verse from long ago, before the time of your father’s father. But ours is a different world, Maeve, although it exists alongside your own. Such curses have their own ways of working out, long and intricate ways, and so it has been with this one. To bring about Mac Dara’s downfall, we do indeed require a young woman with hands that cannot hold.” She moved her fingers gently over the scarred flesh of my palm, making me flinch. People generally did not touch me there unless they had to, and the curious intimacy of the gesture unnerved me.

“It was a sad thing to happen,” Caisin murmured. “And you only a child, not much older than your brother is now. A cruel thing. Your pretty face, your lovely hair. And these hands.”

“It was a long time ago. I cope well enough. My lady, whatever it is you’re trying to tell me, it won’t change my mind. I’m taking Finbar home in the morning.”

“Oh, Maeve. Has it not occurred to you, as it would to any other human girl in your circumstances, that you might make a bargain with me?”

I felt a sensation like a trickle of ice water down my spine. “My decision is made,” I said, withdrawing my hands.

“Perhaps you do not understand just how much I can offer you. If you assist us with this, I can restore your face to beauty. I can render your hands not only unblemished, but as useful as if they had never been burned. Ah”—as I opened my mouth to deliver
an outraged refusal—“do not be so quick to throw this back in my face. Think what it would mean. A fine marriage and children of your own. I see how much you love your young brother, and I think you would not be averse to motherhood. Undamaged, you might well wed a nobleman or prince and hold a position of considerable influence. Best of all, this would give you the ability to do what your…misfortune…has denied you: riding, dancing, playing music, everything from picking flowers to ordering the work of a great household as your mother does. Cannot you imagine stroking your baby’s soft skin? Embracing your lover?”

“Stop it!” I snarled, putting my maimed hands over my ears. “I won’t listen! Do you imagine I would place Finbar at such risk, and Swift, too, on the strength of a promise to make me beautiful? That’s simply wrong! If I were to agree to this, it would be for one reason only: to restore Sevenwaters to the peaceful, well-governed place it was before Mac Dara came here. To make it safe for my family. To make it safe for everyone, your kind included. Your so-called bargain is an insult!”

Gods, this hurt. It was bad enough that Caisin believed I could be so easily corrupted, that she thought me so shallow. Still worse was the longing inside me to say yes, for I did want this. I wanted it so badly it felt as if my heart was being ripped in two. In my mind was that strange night when the Fair Folk had ridden by as my brother and I hid in the forest. I had watched as a perfect version of myself danced with a man, their steps graceful and fine, their eyes only for each other. I had yearned to be that woman. Deep inside, I still did.

“My answer remains the same,” I said. There was a little image of Aunt Liadan in my mind now, telling me to be true to myself. I rose to my feet. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, my lady. Now I must go to bed. We’ll be leaving first thing in the morning.”

“Perhaps,” said Caisin, “you should ask your brother what he thinks.”

CHAPTER 13

S leep proved impossible. My belly was a churning mass of anxiety. My body was filled with the urge for action. But there was nothing I could do, not now. The household went quiet. Lights were dimmed. The sounds of voices and music faded as, I assumed, folk went off to bed. Did the Fair Folk sleep as humankind did? I supposed the answer must be yes, or they would not have been able to offer us these comfortably furnished quarters.

Within my chamber I paced, torn by indecision, furious with myself for considering, even for an instant, how wonderful it would be to become magically whole and perfect. To have the use of my hands. How could I not long for that? To ride. To throw a ball for a dog. To hold a baby. I had thought myself beyond wishing the past could be changed, but it seemed that was not so. Silently, so as not to disturb Luachan and Finbar, whose doorway was covered only by a light hanging, I walked to and fro, fighting my own weakness.
In the morning we’ll fetch Blaze and Swift, and we’ll go straight home,
I told myself.
Finbar can ride Blaze. Luachan can lead Swift. And I’ll walk, since there’s nothing wrong with my legs.
I prayed that Ciarán would be back at the nemetons when we got there, for it seemed to me he might be the only one wise enough to offer sound guidance.