Taminy (57 page)

“What
happened?” they asked her escort, and the reply set up an outraged refrain: “They
tried to kill her! The Cyne tried to have her killed!”

The
crowd became a mob, howling over the treachery. Some of them followed Taminy from
the castle, some of them turned to assault the gates of the inner curtain.

From
the midst of the empty Cyne’s Market, the Ren Catahn looked back over his
shoulder at the wild scene framed by Mertuile’s outer gates. Wyth saw his teeth
flash in a great brilliant smile. “By the Kiss! I’d not ask for a better
rearguard than that.”

They
moved on then, swiftly, into the dark eve of the Cyne’s jubilee.

Know that each soul is molded in the nature
of the Spirit; that each being is pure and holy at its birth. The souls will
vary only as they acquire virtue or vice in the World of Shadow and Light. Yet,
at birth are all souls pure.

— Prayers and Meditations of Osraed Ochan

Cyne
Colfre Malcuim closed the window of his salon and drew his jacket more tightly
around him. Watching him, Daimhin Feich mirrored the movement. Normally, he
would have savored the landward breeze, for at this hour, it carried the scents
of the marketplace—baked goods and ciders and spices. This morning, it bore
only the ragged sounds of protest, the sounds of the mob that snarled at their
gates. Through the night they had been there—hounds at a hare’s hole—while
their Cyne cowered within.

“How
did it happen, Daimhin? Explain to me how this happened.”

Feich,
his eyes sunken hollows in his snow-field face, did not look at his Cyne. “If
you’d be more specific, sire-”

“How
did she betray us? You said you were certain of her.”

He
made himself smile. “I thought I had convinced her of my love. I thought I had
convinced her of her own desire. I
had
convinced her. She rejected both. Obviously, she felt this creature she
worships to be more important than those things.”

“The
Meri is not a ‘creature,’” Colfre said quickly and glanced about him as if
expecting demons to erupt from the floor. “She is divine. How much more proof
of that do you need?”

“No
more, I think, if by divine you mean supernaturally powerful.”

“Yet
you tried to kill her.” Colfre muttered. “You set that pack of-of fanatics on
her.”

“They
set themselves upon her. And after she denounced you, after that demonstration
of her power ... I was afraid. Afraid for your life—afraid for all our lives. I
believe she may live closer to chill hell than the Eibhilin realm.”

Colfre
gaped at him. “Don’t say that! Dear God, she might still be able to hear you.
Why do you say that?”

“What
I saw.” He shook himself, remembering.

“What?”
asked Colfre. “What did you see?”

“A
door into hell. A bright, horrible portal into-” He shook his head, lacking
words.

A
noise interrupted, and a lackey entered the chamber, bowing. “Pardon, sire, but
Cwen Toireasa wishes to confer with you privately. She’s in the lower hall.”

“The
lower hall?” Colfre repeated. “Why there? That’s hardly private.”

The
lackey bowed again, nervously. “I don’t know, sire. That’s what she said—the
lower hall.”

The
Cyne nodded. “I’ll come directly.”

The
lackey bowed a third time and left the room.

“What
do we do now?” Colfre asked. “You’re my Durweard, advise me. What do we do?”

“Let
me think. Speak to the Cwen. When you’re finished with that, perhaps I’ll have
some advice to give you.”

Face
bleak, Colfre went to his Cwen.

oOo

In
the lower hall, Colfre found, not only the Cwen, but Airleas. Both were dressed
for travel, and through the open front doors of the hall he could see a waiting
carriage.

“Airleas
and I are leaving Mertuile,” Toireasa announced. Her voice trembled slightly,
but Colfre didn’t wonder at it. With the castle surrounded by a rabble, she
might well be nervous.

He
nodded, feeling just a little bleaker. “Yes, I agree it would be a good idea
for you and Airleas to be elsewhere until this situation is ... in hand. Where
do you propose to go? Ochanshrine would no doubt welcome you.”

The
Cwen’s smile was ironic. “I doubt that. I propose to go to go Nairne or, if not
there, wherever it is Taminy has gone. I don’t intend to come back.”

Colfre
felt as if every drop of blood had been squeezed from his body. “What? What are
you saying?”

In
answer, she raised her left hand and showed him her palm. The mark was there, star-shaped
and slightly aglow—the same mark those others had shown with such disastrous
results.

There
was not enough air in his lungs for a gasp; instead, he swayed and wished he
could sit down. “You’re ... you’re one of them. A-a Taminist.”

“If
that’s what you would call us, yes.”

“And
Airleas?” He looked to his son with fear clogging his throat. The boy displayed
his palm and Colfre’s legs began to quake. “No. Dear God, no. Not Airleas, too.”

Toireasa
took a step toward him, putting herself between him and the boy. “You could
join us, if you would.”

“I
can’t. I am still Cyne of Caraid-land-”

“How
much longer? So many of your people hate you. So many distrust you. Whose side
were you really on? You befriended Taminy, all the while ingratiating yourself
with Ladhar and his pack of trained wolves. What in the name of the Spirit
where you thinking?”

He
swallowed painfully. “That I could be Osric.”

“You
care so much for that?”

“The
system tied my hands. I couldn’t rule the way I wanted to. The way my Ancestor ruled-”

“That
was six hundred years ago! Malcuim was a barbarian. It took the Meri and Osraed
Ochan to tame him, tutor him, make him the Cyne he became. Before that, he was
no more than the most powerful of a clutch of petty Chieftains. That, I think,
because he built his castle in a more strategic location.”

He
gaped at her. “What do you know about any of this? You’re a woman. A Cwen. What
possesses you to fill your head with such things?”

“The
desire to know—to understand.” She smiled, viciously, he thought. “I know
Taminy-a-Cuinn. I’ve seen what a woman can do.”

“So
you’ll become one of them. An outlaw. A heretic.”

“I’m
already one of them. And heresy is a matter of viewpoint. You believed in her.”

He
still did. The realization made him quake. “Yes, but-”

“Come
with us, Colfre. Reconcile yourself with her. Beg her forgiveness for what you
allowed Feich and Cadder to do. She’ll accept you. And Caraid-land will still
accept you as its Cyne.”

A
part of him wanted to do that. But it was a small part, trapped within a cage
of habitual desire. Colfre set his jaw. “Under her regime, the station of Cyne
would have little meaning. I would not rule. I’d be a mere figurehead ... like
my grandfather. Everyone would know I was a mere puppet—a toy.” He would do
anything to avoid the humiliation of that—to be Cyne in name only, nursemaided
by a committee, directed by another’s will—no, that was not acceptable. “I must
be Cyne of Caraid-land. I want no other existence.”

“Then
there’s nothing more to be said. Good-bye, Colfre. You’ll no doubt wish to
divorce me; I’ve left my written agreement to that in my chambers.” She turned
to their son, who had watched the encounter with un-childlike solemnity. “Come,
Airleas, it’s time for us to go.”

“They
won’t let you out,” said Colfre.

“Your
soldiers?”

“No,
the mob. They’ll kill you. They’ll kill Airleas.”

She
shook her head. “No, Colfre. They won’t harm us. We bear the mark. We’re of the
New Covenant. They’ll let us pass. But you are trapped here. By your own will.”
She turned away then, gathered Airleas to her side and left him.

The
boy turned his head for the briefest moment as he stepped through the door,
fixing Colfre with his dark Hillwild eyes. “Good-bye, father,” he said, and was
gone.

I won’t let you! I won’t let you take my son
!
He wanted to scream it aloud, but there was no strength left in him. The
quivering of his legs increased, forcing him to sit. He sank to the floor in
the center of the Malcuim crest, head to his knees. Servants came and went.
None stopped to ask him if he was all right or why he hunched there, rocking
like a drowsing infant. It was there that his Durweard found him hours later.

oOo

“The
course is clear, sire,” Daimhin Feich said, “you must show strength, now, or
all is lost.” He couldn’t be sure he was getting through, for Colfre would not
look at him, would not take his eyes from the cup of wine that had been set
before him.

“I
hated Toireasa when she gave birth to Airleas,” the Cyne said at last. “At
times, I convinced myself I hated the boy as well. Did you know that? Did you
suspect that your old friend was such a monster that he could hate his own wife
and son?”

Taken
aback, Daimhin could only murmur, “No, lord. I had no idea.”

“I
looked at him and saw my mother—saw the taint of Hillwild blood that infects
the Malcuim line. Ciaran was a fool to sell his unborn sons’ birthrights for
peace. The Hillwild should have been eradicated or driven so far into the
Gyldan-baenn that they’d never come out again. Let them pollute Deasach blood.”
He paused, ruminating. “But it wasn’t her fault, you see. It wasn’t Airleas’s.
It was me.” He poked a thumb at his chest. “I was the one with the taint. Not
Toireasa.”

“The
Hillwild are a rebellious people,” Daimhin agreed. “A hard people, and wild.
But they are fierce in battle, and have their own honor. You could ask for no
better soldiers in the field.”

Colfre
gave his Durweard a wry glance. “So your great experience in battle tells you,
eh, Daimhin? It’s been two generations since Caraid-land has had blood spilled
on her soil. What would you know of Hillwild valor?”

“What
my father and grandfather have told me.”

“Hm.
And now you’d have us raise an army to go off and fight those wily warriors in
their own territory? Where are you going to raise this army, Durweard Feich?
Out of the Sea? Out of the graves of our ancestors? The people outside those
gates will not suffer an army to be gathered.”

“We
have the royal guard-”

“Many
of which have defected.”

Daimhin
was losing his patience. “I’m aware. There are yet enough to mount a fighting
force.”

“To
what purpose?”

“To
go to Halig-liath and bring back the Riagan and the Cwen.”

Colfre
shook his head. “No. It’s futile. Halig-liath is a fortress nearly as
impregnable as Mertuile.”

“Not
if we attack from the ridge. We can raise an army from the House Feich, alone.
Not everyone is in thrall to Taminy-Osmaer. We must bring back your heir.”

Colfre’s
head drooped toward his wine cup. “I have no heir. I have no Cwen. I have no
life.”

“Sire!”
Daimhin threw back his chair and stood, pounding his fists on the table. “I can’t
abide this talk! You are Cyne Colfre Malcuim—Malcuim, damn you! You are still
the sovereign ruler of Caraid-land, still in power in Creiddylad, still in
residence in Mertuile. Supporters will flock to you—already, they are doing so.
You saw the vote—there are Eiric loyal to you, Ministers and even Osraed. The
Ministers, alone, should be able to raise up an army.” He didn’t mention that
he’d already commissioned them to do so.

Colfre
shook his head. “No army. I will shed no blood.”

“You
were ready to shed Deasach blood. What of your bold campaign to press her
borders?”

“A
madman’s daydream. That was a different Cyne Colfre.”

“No.
I’ll not hear you speak that way of yourself.”

When
Colfre made no reply, Daimhin went around the table to his side and bodily
pushed back his chair. Dropping to one knee before his Cyne, he boldly grasped
the royal’s arms and shook him. “Colfre Malcuim, you have been my Cyne, my
lord, my mentor and, above all, my friend. It bleeds me dry to see you like
this. That woman has sucked the light from your soul. Do you need any further
proof of her evil?”

“That
woman? Do you speak of Toireasa or Taminy?”

“Taminy,
of course. Toireasa is merely bewicked by her. If we could eliminate the evil-”

“You
can’t eliminate her, Daimhin. They won’t let you.”

Daimhin
stared at his Cyne’s ravished face. Damn, but he had sunk so far ...”Perhaps
They have nothing to do with it. If she is evil-”

Colfre
tried to cover his ears. “Stop! Cease chattering to me about her evil. She isn’t
evil. She’s light upon light. Only I—I am too much a creature of darkness to be
able to look on her. She blinds me, burns me, withers me.”

“You
cannot let yourself fall into despair.”

“Too
late. I have fallen. Leave me.”

“No.”

Colfre
surprised him, breaking his hold and pushing him forcefully away. “Leave me
alone, Daimhin. Go away. I need time to think.”

Shaking
with rage and frustration, Daimhin did as bidden. He, too, needed time to
think.

oOo

Silver-tailed
clouds galloped the skies, driven by a brisk whip of wind. The tallest peaks of
the Gyldan-baenn tried to snare them as they passed, but only a few paused to
graze the high slopes. From her window on the southern side of Halig-liath,
Taminy watched them. They carried autumn on their backs, late summer thunder in
their hooves. She smiled. She liked autumn.

“Good
to see you smile, Lady.”

She
turned. The Ren Catahn stood just within the door. He was one of the few people
who could catch her unawares, and only if he put his mind to it.

“How
long have you been standing there?” she asked him.

“Not
long. I didn’t want to interrupt your thoughts.”