Heir to Sevenwaters (40 page)

“You mean for protection? I thought you said these charms had no such power.”

He was laying each item down on the ground beside him as he severed the threads that bound it to the garment: a tawny feather, a white stone, a strip of leather. “Maybe they do, maybe they don’t,” he said. “You must take them anyway.”

“But what about you?”

“I can look after myself.” He took another object from the cloak and set it down. It looked like a tiny plait of hair. “I let them kill Aidan. I won’t let them harm you as well, not if there’s anything I can do to prevent it.”

I watched him, finding the haunted look on his face and the furious intensity in his eyes so disturbing that I could hardly begin to absorb the remarkable speech he had just made: not a declaration of love, but more than an expression of physical desire, surely. Whatever it was, it had lit a shining lamp within me. It seemed wrong that, at the same time, I could feel the raw sorrow of Aidan’s death and this warm glow of hope.

“Cathal,” I said, “you say
them
. But who? An ordinary man couldn’t alter his appearance like that, to make himself look almost exactly like you. You say
these people
. You mean folk of the Otherworld? The Tuatha De?” I shivered, cold with the knowledge that at dusk today I would be standing in front of just such folk to plead for my brother’s release. I hesitated, then added, “I’ve seen someone a little like that man before. In the forest, the very first day I met you. A person in a gray cloak, watching me from under the trees. It scared me, but I came around to thinking I’d imagined the whole thing. But then, on the night before Deirdre’s wedding, I saw him again. Out in the courtyard, where you were.”

Cathal’s long fingers stilled, a miniature cross made from rowan wood held between them. It was bound with green thread. “Thus confirming your suspicion that I was up to no good. But you didn’t report it to your father.”

“It was only that, a suspicion. I could have imagined it. I did tell him later, after Glencarnagh was attacked. I’m sorry, Cathal. I thought . . .”

“You did what seemed right. I should have been honest from the first, I suppose. I feel a revulsion for this so-called talent I have inherited.” He waved a hand in the general direction of the pond. “That has made me shy away from anything hinting at the uncanny. Far easier to keep well clear of such things, I thought. Yes, I believe there was someone there in the courtyard that night. Watching me. Keeping an eye on which friend was close to me, which girl my eyes fell on most often, how I might be twisted and turned.”

“Who would do this? And why?”

“That I cannot say, save that they are not human forces. They have dogged me a long time, Clodagh, since I was around twelve years old. Not all the time; they choose their moments. At Whiteshore it was happening more and more often—tricks to separate me from my companions, ploys to lure me off the track. Shadowy forms; mysterious voices. Their presence gave me even stronger reason to accompany Aidan”—his voice cracked as he spoke his friend’s name—“to Inis Eala. It should be far enough away from Whiteshore, I thought, to put me beyond the reach of those mischievous forces.”

“And was it?” A glimmer of understanding came to me. This was what he had meant when he spoke of his presence at Sevenwaters bringing danger down on the rest of us.

“So it seemed. They never troubled me there. Folk say there is a kind of protection over the island. Johnny told me that one of your father’s uncles used to live there, a man of great spiritual strength, and that the cave where he dwelt is under the watch of benign forces. It seems this influence spreads out over the whole of Inis Eala.”

“So you were safe while you stayed on the island, but since you came to Sevenwaters these forces have started pursuing you again.” It did not seem likely. Could he be imagining the whole thing? Had these mysterious pursuers arisen from his childhood unhappiness and made themselves real in his mind? For folk to delude themselves thus was not unknown. But not Cathal, surely. He was too rational, too capable.

“I had heard that Sevenwaters was an uncanny place,” Cathal said. “Just the kind of place, I thought, where these powers would gather around me once more. And they did. That day when we rode out with the children, they drew me off the path. It wasn’t my own double that lured me. It was you.”

I stared at him. “Me?” I said. “But I was with the others all the time, Sibeal and Doran and . . . Aidan.” Oh, it hurt to speak his name. I could see him before me, his brown eyes gentle, his smile sweet. I could hear the ringing notes of a harp.

“The girl I saw was as close to you in appearance as that assassin was to me. Good enough to deceive at a distance, though I doubt I would be taken in now. I followed, surprised to see you on your own and thinking you might be in trouble. At some point within the forest, you—or at least the girl who resembled you—vanished. It was an experiment; a test. They chose right. They learned, that day, that if you were in danger I would break any rule to rescue you.”

A curious feeling was coming over me. This was like the opening of a box of surprises, with each layer that unfolded exposing another, trickier one beneath. Cathal a seer; the Fair Folk pursuing him, leading him astray, perhaps endangering all those close to him; Cathal caring enough about me to put my safety before his own future. It explained many things, but not the crucial question of
why
. Why would the Fair Folk be so interested in Cathal? What could that possibly have to do with the snatching of Finbar and my mission to bring him home?

“You were afraid,” I said, recalling the shadows I had seen in his eyes as we crossed the river and as we camped in the forest at night. “If they’ve been tormenting you for years and years, you were crazy to come with me.”

“They knew I would come,” he said with frightening simplicity.

“This was what they wanted? Are you saying . . . Cathal, are you telling me it was no accident that you and I met in the forest? That the whole thing was controlled by the Fair Folk, to bring you here with me? But that would mean we were just . . . puppets. It would mean we had no free choices at all.” This notion was almost impossible to accept. “Why would they do that? They wouldn’t attach you to me as a protector. These folk have a facility with magic. They could make the path to Mac Dara’s hall as easy or difficult for me as they pleased. Besides, you say they’ve been pursuing you since long before you had anything to do with Sevenwaters. What reason could there be for that?”

Cathal grimaced. “I have a theory, but I’m by no means certain it’s correct. I hope very much that it isn’t. It is not a thing I can speak of here. If we get back safely I’ll tell you about it. Who would have thought the prospect of an honest talk could seem so enticing and so impossible?”

“Cathal.”

“Yes, Clodagh?” He had finished unpicking the objects from the cloak, and now he gathered them up into a small heap.

“Are you saying you believe that even Finbar’s abduction wouldn’t have happened if you had not been at Sevenwaters? That he was taken in order to ensure you came here with me?” It seemed the sort of theory that would only be invented by a man with a grossly inflated idea of his own importance in the scheme of things. I might be prepared to believe Cathal deluded, misguided, but I knew he was not the arrogant person I had once thought him. Besides, I could think of no good reason for the Fair Folk to punish my parents, who had long been wise custodians of the forest and staunch supporters of the old faith. I considered the idea that my family was involved in this only because . . . because Cathal felt something for me that was a great deal more significant that I had ever believed. A man does not follow a woman into a realm where he believes he will be under threat unless he feels more for her than simple lust.
They learned, that day, that if you were in danger I would break any rule to rescue you.

“It makes sense,” Cathal said quietly. “They know you. They know your family. They had confidence that you would undertake this journey to set things right. You’ve seen already how these folk can manipulate our perceptions, Clodagh. I imagine they found it easy enough to ensure you recognized Becan for what he is while the rest of your family saw only a wooden manikin. Somehow they made sure you and I would meet in the forest. My instincts told me where the portal was. I cannot explain to you how I knew, only that I was quite certain there was a river in that quarter and that crossing it would bring us into the Otherworld. Those who pursue us seem to know me as well as they know you. They knew I would not let you undertake such a perilous quest alone. All the way, at every stage of our journey, they have put you in danger so I would stay by your side. Even those folk last night, who came to the gate and showed you a child just like your brother—what was that but a blatant attempt to draw you out of this safe place while I slept? If they had taken you away I would have followed, even if your trail led me so deep into the Otherworld that there was no way out. That may be exactly what they want.”

I answered as I knew I had to, though the thought of going on without him made me feel sick. “When they come for me later, you’d best stay here and wait until I’ve got Finbar,” I said. “Then we can go home together. The last thing I want is to put you in danger, Cathal. In any more danger, I mean. What can they want with you?”

But he only shrugged. “Put these in your bag,” he said. “Wrap a garment around them, then stow them at the bottom.”

I rolled the little items into a spare stocking and put them deep in my pack. I wondered if there was any real possibility that Cathal’s bizarre theory was correct. Was my place in this whole course of events merely that of a pawn? Was it of no consequence what decisions I made, what choices I took? I did not think I could accept that. Besides, I had a nagging feeling that somewhere in my memory there was a key to all of this, a key I needed to find before it was too late. “Cathal, why did you run away from Sevenwaters when you weren’t guilty of anything? Surely it would have been better to tell Johnny the full story.”

“And make my affliction common knowledge?” His tone was bitter. I glanced at him. Aidan’s death had put a new darkness in his eyes. If I had thought his look haunted once or twice before, it was nothing to this.

“I don’t want my father’s legacy,” he said. “If I could wipe away the stain of him forever, I would do so. Besides, with each day that passed I was more certain that my presence at Sevenwaters was bringing down disaster on you and your family. I could not in all conscience remain there any longer.”

“By not speaking out about this,” I said, “you’ve played into these folk’s hands. You’ve done exactly what they wanted you to do. That’s if your theory is correct. One thing I don’t understand is how the attack on Glencarnagh fits into this. Cathal, when you saw that vision, what exactly was it that made you suspect Illann?”

“Before I saw the attack, I was shown glimpses of other things. You brushing your sister’s hair. Illann showing Deirdre a map. Illann addressing a group of men, some of whom I thought I saw later amongst those who attacked your father’s property. The pieces, put together in a certain way, at least suggested the possibility that Illann might be implicated. I thought it fair to warn you, since you were a potential source of information to your sister. It may bear no relation to this other matter.”

“If we’re being manipulated, you and me,” I said miserably, “I suppose these visions might contain whatever the Fair Folk choose to put in them. They might show us things just to stir up trouble. That old woman, Willow, said Mac Dara was mischievous, didn’t she?”

Memory stirred. Willow’s stories, which had seemed to upset Cathal so much: the clurichauns, Wolf-child . . . There had been something about Mac Dara, too, but when I tried to recall it, it slipped away.

Cathal bowed his head. “Aidan’s dead,” he said. “I can’t allow myself to hope that was a lie. I know in my bones that it’s true.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel worse.”

He said nothing.

“I didn’t tell you,” I said, “but just before you came up to see me, the day Finbar was taken, I contacted Deirdre to tell her about the birth. And . . . and she asked me some unexpected questions. They weren’t very specific, but they did concern Father’s dilemma with the northern chieftains, the sort of thing Deirdre has never been interested in before. So perhaps your vision was true; perhaps she and Illann were somehow involved. If the Fair Folk have a grand plan involving you, that attack really doesn’t seem to fit.”

“If it’s a worldly plot, Johnny and Lord Sean will sort it out between them. I hope I was wrong about your sister. That would be hard for you. Clodagh?”

“Mm?”

“I can’t stay here while you go off to confront this Mac Dara. It would run against every instinct that’s in me. I can’t let you do this on your own.” He sounded wretched.

I looked up and saw his face quite unguarded. He was white as chalk, his lips set tight, but love blazed in his eyes, fierce and uncompromising. For a moment it stopped my heart. I moved across to kneel by him and wrap my arms around him, pressing my cheek against his. “I want you to be safe,” I whispered. “If they mean you harm, you mustn’t come with me.”

“If my theory’s right,” he murmured against my hair, “you won’t be able to do it unless I’m there.”

“Let me try. I’m a daughter of Sevenwaters, after all. There have been hundreds of years of goodwill between us and the Tuatha De. Surely that can’t be erased so quickly.”

“Shh,” Cathal whispered. “Let’s not talk about this now. Let’s not talk at all.” His hand moved against my hair, then traced a tender line down temple, cheek, neck, his thumb pausing where the blood pulsed close under the skin. His touch was like a bard’s on his instrument, and it awakened a deep and mysterious music in my body. I sighed and nestled closer. We sat like that a long while, touching gently, not letting the spark between us rise to a flame, for now was not the time for that. If all went well, when we got back to Sevenwaters we would have all the time we wanted. A lifetime if we were lucky. I knew, as Cathal held me, that no objection anyone could raise was going to keep me from being with him. I had a good precedent: Father had approved of Muirrin’s marriage to Evan, an Inis Eala man who was neither high born nor rich in worldly goods. Evan had been considered suitable because he was a skillful healer and the son of a family friend, and because he and Muirrin loved each other. That, in the end, would be the argument Father would heed most, since he and Mother had been fortunate enough to wed for love themselves.