He sniffed at that. He stared at her, his eyes dark under the white-haired line of his brows. "The rumors are flying through the keep that you've returned from Thall Coill, that you appeared naked on the shore in a blaze of sorcerous light, that you
passed the Scrudu and now under-stand the deepest places within Lamh Shabhala."
One corner of her mouth lifted. "I've returned from Thall Coill. The rest. ." She shrugged.". . are just rumors."
"What happened?"
She wasn't certain that she wanted to tell him. But once she started, she found that there was a catharsis in telling him all that had happened since they'd parted ways after Glenn Aill. Moister Cleurach let her talk occasionally interjecting a question to clarify some point. An acolyte came in with a lunch of bread, fruit, and water, then left. She told him every-thing except the fact that she was pregnant.
She didn't know why she kept that back, only that it felt right to do so
Moister Cleurach listened, then grunted. "I still don't understand," he said. "Why did this An Phionos not kill you as it did Peria?"
She'd prepared a lie for that, knowing the question would come. "We fought to a draw," she said. "I wasn't able to defeat An Phionos, but nei-ther did it have the power left to kill me."
"Hmm…" Moister Cleurach ran fingers along his bearded jaw. "And you have the changeling blood, too. Like Ennis."
The mention of the name made her blink. "Aye," Jenna answered. "Or I wouldn't be here and Lamh Shabhala would be lost in the ocean."
"I doubt it." He plucked a slice of apple from the tray and chewed it thoughtfully. "Lamh Shabhala has a way of finding its own path to a Holder. By now, someone else would have found it washed up on a shore, or in the gullet of someone's fish dinner." He swallowed. "I've already sent word to Dun Kiil that you've returned."
Jenna nodded. "I thought you would. So the Banrion's back there? Is she well? Is there word about the Ri Ard and the Tuatha? Mac Ard?"
"Nothing about Mac Ard," he answered, "but we hear that the Rl Ard and his son have gone to Tuatha Gabair, Airgialla, Connachta, and Infochla, and sent messages to Locha Lein and Eoganacht as
well. Mundy Kirwan-you remember him; Ennis’ friend-is strong with the slow mag-ics, and he has felt Clochs Mor gathering near Falcarragh. I think the war comes soon; the Comhairle agrees with me. And that makes me wonder. Why did you come back here, Jenna?"
"I don’t know," she answered honestly. "I thought… I thought it was the only place I belonged right now."
"Then you’ll fight with Inish Thuaidh."
The memory of Thraisha’s foretelling came to Jenna again, as it had an too often over the last days. . You stood there alone, and you called lightning down from the skies with Lamh Shabhala, but other sky-stones were there also, held by the hard-shelled ones, and they gathered against you. I was there, too, but I was too jar away and others’ clochs were set against me and couldn’t reach you. You looked for help, but even though those with you held sky-stones of their own, they were beset themselves, and none came to your aid. 1 saw you fall. .
"This is my home. This was Ennis’ home. And I know that my presence is the reason for the war if it comes." Jenna shrugged. "I didn’t choose this path, Moister. But it seems to be the one I have to walk."
Moister Cleurach grunted again. "Then I’ll do my best to make you ready for it," he told her. "We can start today."
She hadn’t been certain what she wanted, but Moister Cleurach certainly had no such doubts. He immediately resumed his role as Jenna’s mentor in her studies of the cloudmage art. Most of that time was spent in the library, as Moister Cleurach set Brathair Maher to pulling out dusty and half-crumbling rolls of ancient parchment. There were exercises and med-itations; reading and history lessons; the beginning of her study in the slow magics of earth and water.
Jenna fell into the routine almost gratefully. It allowed her no time to think, the work kept her mind occupied and held the grief and worry at arm’s length, at least during the days. The nights were a different matter. She didn’t sleep well, despite the exhaustion of the days and the mage-lights’ nightly call. Then the ghosts threatened to overwhelm her as she cried with her head buried in her pillow,
seeing Ennis' face or Seancoim's. She clutched her stomach where the first flutterings of life quickened. She listened to the calls of the seals far down the jagged cliffs of Inishfeirm, and wondered whether Thraisha was out there somewhere, even though she couldn't feel her with Lamh Shabhala.
But the days. . The days she could tolerate.
". . and as you see, Severii claims that even when Lamh Shabhala seems to be devoid of energy, there is still a reservoir of power within it, one that he was unable to tap. Which is what he thought was the place that would be opened through the Scrudu-"
Moister Cleurach stopped, causing Jenna-seated next to him looking at the mostly undecipherable marks on the yellowed roll of parch-ment-to glance up. An acolyte cleared his throat from the doorway of the library; behind him, another figure lurked. "Moister," the acolyte began, but Moister Cleurach was already on his feet.
"Banrion," he said. "This is a surprise."
Aithne gave a cough of laughter. "Then you don't know me well at all, Moister. Holder Jenna, it's good to see you again. I wanted to give you my condolences on the death of your friend Seancoim.
It must have been terrible, losing two people so close to you in such a short space of time." The sadness in her voice seemed genuine, as did the sympathy on her face. "And I also wanted to welcome you back." She held her hand out to
Jenna, who took it. Aithne's fingers pressed against hers. "I was afraid I would never see you again," Aithne said. "I knew when we woke that morning and found you gone that you'd taken the path to Thall Coill Come, walk with me a bit and tell me about it. Moister Cleurach’s dry reports are fine, but I'd like to hear your own words. Moister, if you don't mind… "
Jenna didn't particularly want to relive any of it again, but she could think of no way to politely refuse. Leaving Moister Cleurach and the li-brary, the Banrion walked with Jenna along the stone corridors of the White Keep, her two gardai accompanying them just out of earshot.
They walked for a few minutes, hand in hand, Aithne telling Jenna about their own trek back from Glenn Aill and the response of the Comhairle to the
news of Aron’s treachery.". . My own best guess is that my brother, Tiarna Mac Ard, and the others with them have left Inish Thuaidh and slipped the net of ships we placed around the island. They’re proba-bly in Falcarragh with the Ri Ard by now."
They’d come to the bronze doors cast in the shapes of the mage-lights: the Temple of the Founder. Aithne pushed the doors open and they en-tered. Six acolytes were there with a Brathair of the Order, who bowed to the Banrion and Jenna and quickly escorted his charges out of the room. The Banrion and Jenna walked down between the twin rows of marble columns as they exited, approaching the immense statue of Tadhg O’Coulghan. He seemed to watch them advance, his right hand raised as if he were about to cast the power of Lamh Shabhala down at them from the mage-lights swirling in the painted dome above him. They stopped just under the dome, with Tadhg looming above them.
"How long has it been?" Aithne asked.
Jenna’s brows wrinkled, puzzled. "Banrion?"
Aithne pressed her fingertips against Jenna’s abdomen, gently. Jenna flushed, and the Banrion smiled. "Sometime dry reports have buried nug-gets. You came here with nothing, and among the documents Moister Cleurach sent was a list of everything you’d been given, a quite detailed list. What was interesting to me was what wasn’t there: no sponges, no cloths. A surprising omission for a young woman who should be expect-ing her monthly bleeding. I wasn’t certain, though, until I saw you." The Banrion chuckled softly. The sound reverberated from the dome. "How long?"