Roberson, Jennifer - Cheysuli 07 (44 page)

 
          
Even
now, as Sean led the way into the central hall and waved him into a chair and
handed down a cup of Erinnish liquor, Keely's expression was stiff. "Does
Brennan want this?"

 
          
Aidan
sipped, blinked surprise at the bite of the liquor, then raised the cup in
tribute to Sean. All as he looked at Keely. "Not this
particularly
," he said, "but he wants me married,
aye."

 
          
A
faint line etched itself between her brows. " 'Not this particularly,'
" she quoted. "An odd thing to say. Does that mean my oldest
rujholli
argues against my
daughter?"

 
          
Sean
snorted. "I doubt he'd be such a fool. 'Twould be a good match." He
ignored the black glance Keely cast him and contented himself with settling his
large body into a rough, iron-bound chair. Blond beard parted slightly to
exhibit white teeth. "You married into Erinn, and Erinn into Homana. He'd
hardly be a man for saying the lass isn't worthy of it."

 
          
Keely,
who remained standing very near Aidan's chair, tapped a booted right foot
briefly. "No," she conceded. "All right, then, kinsman—what is
your meaning?"

 
          
Aidan
did not answer at once, distracted by his surroundings. Kilore was not a place
of much refinement. Certainly nothing like Homana-Mujhar, or even Hart's castle
in Lestra. It was, first and foremost, a fortress. The casements were tall but
very narrow, more like arrow-loups than windows, and the cavernous ceiling was
broken up only by greenish, studded beams as big around as a man. Illumination
was negligible, save for the blazing fire in the massive fireplace.

 
          
"Well?"
Keely prodded.

 
          
Recalling
her question, Aidan smiled. "He merely said he wants me married." The
smile stretched into an ironic downward hook. "It is suggested the Lion
might be happier with one more male in line to plant a rump in the wooden
lap."

 
          
Keely's
mouth twisted. "How like him," she said lightly, then turned away
from Aidan. She took up from a nearby table the cup Sean had poured her, then
perched herself on the edge. "And does Aileen say the same?"

 
          
"She
says I should have more time." Aidan shrugged. "I doubt it will make
a difference. The Mujhar is in good health, and my
jehan
is young enough to rule for decades after. If I take a
cheysula
now and get a son on her, or wait
ten more years, I doubt the Lion would notice."

 
          
Keely's
gaze was steady. Pointedly, she said. "And yet you are here."

 
          
Sean
stirred in his chair. "Lass, the lad's not a child. Could be he's
ready
for a wife." Brown eyes
warmed. "Though perhaps he'll think better of it once he's met our
lass."

 
          
Aidan
smiled back. He liked Sean very much. "Is she much like her
jehana
?"

 
          
Sean's
brows rose. "Like us both, lad… a full plate, you might say."

 
          
"She
has a mind of her own," Keely declared. "No daughter of mine will
ever sit behind a man when her place is
beside
him."

 
          
Sean
nodded blandly. "No daughter of yours would dare such a thing, with you to
set her straight."

 
          
Aidan
laughed into his cup. "Aye, well… I did not set out for Shona. I went to
Solinde first—"

 
          
"Blythe,"
Keely said at once. She nodded consideringly. "There has been a
Solindish-born Queen of Homana before… but very long ago." She frowned
faintly. "Though there was grief of it—Electra betrayed Carillon by
becoming Tynstar's light woman."

 
          
"
And
bore him a child. Strahan."
Aidan sighed, thinking of Strahan's son. "It does not matter so much any
more… Blythe is not at the moment ready for marriage, to me or to anyone
else." He frowned consideringly into his cup, then sorted out his words.
Quietly he told them the story of what had happened.

 
          
Softly,
yet with a great malignancy, Keely cursed Lochiel when Aidan was done. And the
man who had sired him.

 
          
"So,"
she said viciously, "this time they strike at
Solinde
. If they cannot take Homana directly, they will try another
way." She slammed down the cup. Wine sloshed over the rim. "To murder
a helpless infant…" Three long, stiff strides carried her toward the
fireplace. All Aidan saw was her back, and its eloquent rigidity. After a
moment she turned. "It will be worse for Blythe."

 
          
Neither
man spoke, transfixed by her intensity.

 
          
"Worse,"
Keely repeated. "For me, it was force. But Blythe bedded him
willingly
—" Keely's face spasmed.
"She will hate herself for that."

 
          
Sean
stirred, stretching out a hand. "Lass—"

 
          
Keely
shook her head. "You were right to leave her, Aidan. She will want nothing
to do with marriage for now. Perhaps for some time to come. And if there is a
child—" The lines of her face altered. She looked older, and tired.
"She will have to make her choice, just as I did. Although, in the end,
the gods saw to it themselves…" Keely sighed and thrust splayed fingers
into her hair, stripping loosened loops back from her cheeks. "If Hart has
any sense, he will show her the proper way of performing
i'toshaa-ni
."

 
          
Aidan
smiled faintly. "Hart has sense." He shifted forward in his chair.
"Aye, I came to speak of Shona and marriage; even so, I am not
convinced
she is the only alternative…
if we do not suit, I will not insist on it." He thought of his parents.
"I know better."

 
          
Keely's
expression was odd. "I thought that long finished. In her letters, Aileen
says they do well enough—"

 
          
Aidan,
who had no desire to bog himself down in a convoluted discussion of the
feelings between his parents, interrupted smoothly. "Let us say I would
prefer a match well-suited from the beginning. As yours was."

 
          
Keely
and Sean exchanged glances. Sean grinned crookedly, but swallowed more liquor
rather than say anything. Keely's manner was brusque. "Aye, well… it speaks
well of you that you are willing to consider Shona's feelings instead of
politics. Aileen's doing, I'd wager; Brennan thinks too much of the Lion."

 
          
"A
common curse, among our kin." Aidan relaxed back 'into the big
copper-bound chair, hooking the foot of his goblet over his belt buckle. He was
weary from the journey, but it was a good weariness. What he felt most was a
deep, abiding contentment. It came, he sensed, from Kilore herself… and the
couple who lived with her.

 
          
Keely
smiled for the first time since he had met her. "You look more suited to
Kilore than Homana-Mujhar, or even Clankeep. There may be more of Erinn in your
blood than Homana."

 
          
He
smiled back, unoffended. "My
jehana
has said that once or twice… until I come back from Clankeep, and
then
she says I am naught but Cheysuli,
prickly pride and all."

 
          
Sean
grunted. "I am in a better place to judge, I'm thinking, not being
biased." He ignored Keely's skeptical grunt. "And 'tis too soon to
know… how long d'ye plan to stay?"

 
          
Aidan
opened his mouth to answer—he thought to stay until he and Shona knew if there
was a chance, or no—but was interrupted by a treble voice piercing the hall as
the big door, opened by a servant, disgorged an angry boy.

 
          
"
'Tis n't
fair
!" he cried,
marching across to hall to stop in front of his father. " 'Tis n't fair
at all
. She hasn't the right to be
ordering me around, this way and that—and
no
right at all
to take the bow away!"

 
          
He
was blond, like both his parents, and his eyes were Keely's blue. His skin was
very fair, as Sean's must have been before wind and time had weathered it. If
there was any Cheysuli in him, Aidan could not see it.

 
          
"The
bow," Sean said blankly.

 
          
"
My
bow," the boy declared, and then
had the grace to look abashed. "At least, 'twould be my bow if you saw fit
to let me have one." He slanted a blue-eyed glance at his mother.
"Shona has a bow."

 
          
Keely
nodded gravely. "Shona is somewhat older."

 
          
"But
she's a
girl
," Riordan declared.

 
          
Sean
grinned. "A lad with eyes in his head, is it?" He sat forward in his
chair, shifting a body much larger than that of his son's. Aidan wondered
fleetingly which branch of the Houses Riordan would emulate: the broad bulk of
his father's, or the slender fitness of his mother's. "When you're a mite
older, lad, you'll be having your own bow. If Shona's told you no, 'tis because
she tends your welfare."

 
          
"
'Tis n't," Riordan retorted. " 'Tis because she thinks she's
better
."

 
          
Keely
sighed. It was, somewhat obviously, an old argument. "A Cheysuli warbow is
not something a boy should play with, Riordan—"

 
          
"I
wasn't playing with it," he declared. "I was trying to shoot at a
target, just as Shona does—just as
you
do—but she caught me at it and took the bow away." He sighed aggrievedly.
" 'Tis bad enough already… now they'll be saying I'm a coward afraid of
his sister."

 
          
"
Who
will?" Sean asked.

 
          
The
small face was downcast. "All the other boys."

 
          
Sean
and Keely exchanged a glance. The interplay was subtle: Sean's arched brow,
Keely's lifted shoulder.

 
          
"
'Tis something we should be tending to, then, I'm thinking," Sean said
quietly. "Tomorrow we'll see to finding you a bow—a boy's bow, Riordan,
not a Cheysuli warbow—and we'll set out to learn the proper way. I'll not be
having them say you're a coward, but neither will I be having a boy too small
for a warbow chance hurting someone else."

 
          
Riordan,
who had been all set to argue, saw he would lose even that much if he
protested. So he did not. He merely grinned at both his parents, slanted a
briefly curious glance at Aidan, then headed out of the room. His posture was
one of irrepressible exuberance.

 
          
"Nine,"
Keely said, before Aidan could ask. "And spoiled near to rotting by a much
too permissive
jehan
."

 
          
Sean
sat back in his chair, smiling blandly. "Aye, well… I
am
the Lord of Erinn. Who is there to stop me?"

 
          
Aidan
watched the door thump closed. "Nine," he mused. "Too young yet
for
lir
-sickness, or any signs of
it."

 
          
Keely's
mouth twisted. "He may never require a
lir
.
The Erinnish blood, I have discovered, is thicker than our own… Shona has none
of my gifts, and Riordan may miss as well." She flicked an unreadable
glance at Sean. "But as it is Erinn he will inherit, there may be no
need."

 
          
Aidan
did not answer. Keely had schooled her tone into a negligent matter-of-factness,
but his
kivarna
told him the truth.
She had hoped Shona would share her own unique gifts, thereby asserting the
Cheysuli portion of her heritage. The girl had not; now Keely hoped—and
probably prayed—Riordan would make up the difference. It was true that in Erinn
the need was not so great as in Homana—Aidan's grandsire, Niall, had gained a
lir
so late it made his claim to the
Lion tenuous in the eyes of the clans—but undoubtedly Keely wanted to leave the
mark of their race in Erinn's history. It was a natural desire; he felt it in
himself. But for Keely, the need was stronger.