Máister Kirwan’s office was a small chamber high in one of the southern towers. The dawn caressed the rough-hewn beams of the ceiling with yellow-gold fingers. When Máister Kirwan moved the scrolls on his desk aside as he sat, motes of dust rose to spark in the shafts of new sunlight. “Sit,” he said sharply, the first word he’d spoken to them since they’d entered the White Keep, and pointed to two high-backed and uncomfortable-looking chairs against the walls. Thady sat as if his legs had just been chopped out from underneath him, the wood creaking under the sudden weight. Meriel forced herself to sit more slowly, as if she were attending one of her mam’s interminable state dinners back at Dún Kiil, but she very carefully kept her gaze away from Máister Kirwan’s eyes and she couldn’t seem to stop her chin from trembling. She told herself it was the chill from the water.
The Máister fingered the Cloch Mór around his neck, grunting to himself. A soft knock came from the door to the chamber, and another of the teachers entered: Siúr Alexia Meagher. Her clochmion stone glittered like a small diamond against her white clóca as she nodded to Máister Kirwan. “Ah, Siúr, thank you for coming. You know these two.”
“I do, indeed.” Siúr Meagher sniffed, looking down the length of her thin nose at them. The long length of her braided brown hair swayed as she turned back to Máister Kirwan. She rubbed her arthritic hands together as if trying to warm them, grimacing as she did so; after clenching her fingers a few times, her left hand closed over the stone at her breast. She closed her eyes and sighed, then her eyes opened again. “I’m ready, Máister.”
“Good.” Máister Kirwan took a long breath, steepling his hands before his face and resting his chin on his thumbs. “Now, I suppose you knowledgeable acolytes also know what Siúr Meagher holds?” He looked hard at Meriel.
“A clochmion,” Meriel answered. “One of the minor stones. I don’t know what it does, though.”
Meriel saw Siúr Meagher give a slight nod to Máister Kirwan as she answered. A faint smile touched the man’s lips. “Aye, you don’t. An-tUasal MacCoughlin, do
you
know what power this clochmion has?”
Thady shook his head. “No, Máister,” he began, but Siúr Meagher cleared her throat. Thady glanced at her, startled; Siúr Meagher lifted her right hand, a forefinger raised warningly. Meriel heard Thady sigh. “I really don’t
know,
” he said, staring at the Siúr. “But the rumor among the acolytes is that Siúr Meagher has a truth-stone, that it can tell her when someone’s lying. Evidently,” he added, his gaze going back to Máister Kirwan, “that’s more than a rumor.”
“Indeed it is,” Máister Kirwan answered. “Frankly, Siúr Meagher might possess a clochmion, but she holds a power that some holders of a Cloch Mór might wish they had. The two of you will bear that in mind as you answer me. Now ...” Maister Kirwan leaned back in his chair. “Thady MacCoughlin, exactly how did you come to be outside the keep before First Bell?”
Thady glanced again at Siúr Meagher before answering. “I woke up to use the chamber pot,” he answered. “Kharidi, my roommate, well, he was snoring, and once I woke up I couldn’t get back to sleep ...” He stopped; Meriel saw tiny muscles tug at the corners of Siúr Meagher’s lips and wondered what the woman heard in Thady’s comments. “Our room is close to the Hall of the Low Tower. I heard the door to the Women’s Wing open. I thought I might see who else was up, so I went to see.”
“And?”
Thady’s eyes flicked toward Meriel. “It was her.”
“And what did you do then?”
Meriel could see a blush rising up Thady’s neck as a corresponding irritation welled inside her. Thady’s tale certainly didn’t match what he’d told her down on the beach. “I thought I might follow Meriel and see where she was going, so I went back to my room, dressed quietly, and followed.”
Meriel turned to Thady, feeling the heat rising to her cheeks again. “You sneak! You told me you were just ‘wandering around’ and heard the seals,” she retorted, not caring that she was interrupting Máister Kirwan.
Acting like your mam’s daughter
... that’s what her da would have said.
“That’s enough,” Máister Kirwan snapped at her, though Meriel thought she saw him smother a laugh. “Your turn will come, Bantiarna MacEagan, and we’ll see how well you fare.” Meriel shut her mouth, cutting off her protest though she could feel her forehead bristling in a scowl. Máister Kirwan nodded to Thady. “Please continue.”
Thady kept his face firmly pointed at the Máister. “She was gone by the time I came out, but I heard footsteps at the bottom of the tower, so I figured she was heading for the Acolyte’s Exit—that’s what we call it, Máister—so I just headed down that way. When I came out, I caught sight of her just starting to head down the beach trail. She was well ahead of me, already. That trail’s difficult enough in the daytime, so I thought she was just going to look at the water from the top of the path. I decided to wait there for a while for her to come back up. I waited a long time, maybe half a stripe of the candle or more before I realized that she must have gone down farther than I thought. I wondered whether she was in some trouble, so I started down myself. I went slowly, looking for her all the time and expecting to see her at one of the grazing fields for the sheep, but I never saw her. I went all the way down to the water, but I still couldn’t see her anywhere. I didn’t know where she was.”
Siúr Meagher raised her eyebrows, and Thady hurried to amend the statement. “But I found her clothes, fairly quickly, and I figured she’d gone into the water.”
“And what were you intending to do if you
had
found her?” Máister Kirwan asked. His eyes glittered under the shadow of his thick-hedged brow, his chin lifted slightly.
“Nothing,” Thady answered, but again Siúr Meagher cleared her throat. Thady’s head swiveled toward her and back again. “I wasn’t intending to
hurt
her or anything,” he said hurriedly. “I just thought . . . I thought we could talk, that’s all.” His eyes flicked over to Siúr Meagher and back; Siúr Meagher said nothing.
“And did you call out for her then and announce that you were there, or did you go down toward the water, knowing she was unclothed and hoping to see her in that state?” Máister Kirwan asked.
The blush rose over Thady’s face like a swift tide and his gaze dropped to his hands folded on his lap. “I went down to the water, Máister, ’tis true, but when I looked I couldn’t see her at all, only a family of blue seals, and I started to get worried, especially knowing who she is. I started back up the trail to get someone, but then the seals started making a commotion and I came back. That’s when I saw her . . .” He stopped, but Meriel could hear in the way his voice trailed off that there was more. She knew Máister Kirwan and Siúr Meagher heard it as well, and her stomach twisted and burned.
Please, Mother-Creator—don’t let Thady have seen Dhegli and me together. Please
...
Máister Kirwan cocked his head and leaned forward. “And?” he prompted.
Thady looked at Siúr Meagher. “It’s nothing,” he said. “Really. I was mistaken.”
“I’ll make that decision,” Máister Kirwan answered. “What were you mistaken about?”
Thady’s face was blotched with red. “I thought . . . I thought for a moment when I first saw her that there was someone there with her, a young man. But when I looked again, he was gone.” Thady’s hands lifted, palms up. “I was mistaken in that, Máister. I had a good view of the beach; if there had really been someone else there, I would have noticed him. There was only Meriel. No one else.”
Meriel felt the knot in her stomach loosen a bit. Máister Kirwan seemed satisfied with that, leaning back in his chair and nodding. He didn’t ask the additional question that she might have asked:
“Did you see Meriel clothed or naked?”
Instead, he grunted and turned his attention to her. “Did An-tUasal MacCoughlin harm you in any way, or make you feel threatened?”
Meriel shook her head. “No, Máister. I was ... startled when I saw him, that’s all. But he ... he behaved as he should.”
Thady gave a relieved exhalation. From the corner of her vision, Meriel saw Siúr Meagher nod to Máister Kirwan, who grunted. “An-tUasal MacCoughlin, you may leave us, then. It’s well past First Bell and the others have already eaten, so you’ve missed breakfast. In fact, you will miss
all
your meals today, I think. Perhaps a little hunger in your belly will help you sleep better tonight. You’ll report to Bráthair O’Therreagh today—you’ll assist him in cleaning out the midden. You may go now.”
Thady grimaced, biting his lower lip, but said nothing. He rose, bowed to Máister Kirwan, and left the room without looking at Meriel again.
“The young man seems to be rather infatuated with you, Bantiarna MacEagan.” Meriel’s eyes widened with Máister Kirwan’s statement. “You’re surprised?” he continued. “You shouldn’t be. These things happen, especially at your age. Especially with someone of your lineage.”
“I’m not infatuated with
him
.” She denied it emphatically, then glanced at Siúr Meagher, who was smiling. “All right, aye, I find him interesting and attractive, but that’s still not ‘infatuated.’ Does that satisfy you, Siúr? Thady’s been helpful to me when others haven’t and I’m grateful. I don’t care that the others call him just a tuathánach—that’s what my mam’s family was, once. But that’s all. I haven’t done anything else.”
“Good.” A half smile lifted one side of Máister Kirwan’s mouth. “Jenna would have my—” He paused. Started again. “Banrion MacEagan would be upset if she found out you were involved in a serious romance here.”
“You needn’t worry about that with Thady, Máister,” Meriel answered, but she glanced over at Siúr Meagher as she said it. The woman still wore that amused expression, but said nothing. Her hand, with their arthritis-swollen joints, remained clasped around the clochmion on its chain.
“When I last corresponded with the Banrion, she told me to be especially watchful with you regarding the Saimhóir; understandably, I think, given your family history. This isn’t the first time you’ve gone ...
swimming
at night, is it?”
The burning in her stomach returned. Meriel saw Siúr Meagher’s fingers tighten around her clochmion. “ ’Tis the very first time, Máister,” Meriel answered with as much conviction as she could muster. Siúr Meagher snorted as if stifling a laugh. Máister Kirwan
did
chuckle, shaking his head.
“Well, I must admit that I would have made that test, too,” he said to her. “But I’m afraid that Siúr Meagher’s cloch works quite well. In fact, your mam can do the same—it’s one of the many abilities of Lámh Shábhála, as well.” Meriel’s eyebrows lifted; that bit of information explained several events in her childhood.
She’d climbed up on the chair to reach her mam’s favorite vase, the one with the glittering golden threads in the glaze, but the vase had slipped out of her hands and shattered loudly on the floor. Her nurse at the time, who was sleeping near the fire, awoke with a snort. Worse, her mam happened to be in the next room, taking her tea and talking with one of the tiarna on the Comhairle. The Banrion came hurrying into the room at the bright explosion of noise. “I didn’t do it, Mam.” Meriel blubbered, unable to stop the tears. “The cat must have knocked it over.” Her mam’s right hand was touching Lámh Shábhála, and she simply glared until Meriel dropped her head in shame.
“Are you hurt?” her mam asked. Meriel shook her head. She didn’t dare look up. “What happened here?” her mam had asked the nurse, her voice icy.
“I . . . I didn’t see it, Banrion,” the woman stammered. “I turned my back for just a moment, and—”
“That’s enough,” Jenna snapped, and Meriel glanced up to see anger on her mam’s face, but thankfully directed at the nurse rather than her. Jenna’s disfigured right hand dropped away from the cloch, and she rubbed at the marked skin. “Just . . . clean up this mess.” Without another word to either of them, she’d turned to return to her meeting. That night, Meriel was given no supper, a new nurse attendant came in to put her to bed, and she didn’t see her mam for another day or more. . . .
“Meriel, I asked you a question,” Máister Kirwan said, interrupting her reverie. Meriel blinked. “This wasn’t the first time, was it?”
Meriel grimaced, lowering her head as she had that day long ago. A drop of cold water dripped from the end of a strand of hair onto her lap. “No, Máister. Not the first time. I heard the Saimhóir down on the beach nearly a month ago, and I went down to see them. My da, he told me some about Mam and the seals and I love looking at the Saimhóir, so I thought ...”
“You went in the water with them?”
A nod.
“As
one
of them? As your mam is reputed to have done?”
Meriel nodded again.
“The young man Thady saw—he was Saimhóir, wasn’t he? What’s his name?” Máister Kirwan asked.
Meriel’s head came up. Her lower lip trembled. She remembered the exciting brush of fur against fur, the disorienting moment of transformation and his smile, the touch of his fingers against her skin and the way she shuddered deliciously in response . . . “Dhegli,” she said. “He can keep the human form for only a few hours, as I can keep the Saimhóir.”
She thought he would ask the obvious next question, the one she didn’t want to answer. He didn’t. His gaze drifted away from her toward the window and the sun that was beginning to lift above the sloping shoulders of Mt. Inish and the fog from the valley. Máister Kirwan seemed lost in reverie, his long fingers stroking the facets of the Cloch Mór around his neck. Meriel squirmed in her chair, the fist that held her stomach tightening and twisting. Finally he turned back to her. “Meriel, I don’t expect any more excursions like this from you while you’re here with the Order. If we find you outside the keep again without permission, you will be immediately dismissed from the Order and sent back to Dún Kiil. I don’t think I need to tell you how your parents would react to that.”