"I would be careful with what you claim, Jenna," she said. "It's not good to put an enemy on alert with a bluff."
"I don't know who my enemies are, Banrion," Jenna answered. "I thought that I might find out-and I wasn't entirely bluffing."
"Ah," Cianna said thoughtfully, nodding. She gestured at the room. "They're all your enemies, every one of them here," she said. "Even me, Jenna. Any of us would take the cloch and become the Holder, if we thought it would gain us power."
"I think I can trust you, Banrion. Or you wouldn't have said what you just said."
Cianna smiled. "Thank you, Jenna. But look at them. There are more plots there than leaves in the forest, and many of them concern you. In the last cycle, my husband was nearly killed himself when one of the ceil giallnai decided that he might increase his standing by allying with one of the Connachtan families. He managed to actually draw his blade at the table before he was cut down, not five feet from the Ri. Trust is a rare commodity here, Jenna. Don't take it lightly, and don't believe that it's eternal, either. Allegiances shift, friendships fade, love is ephemeral. Be careful."
Jenna glanced worriedly at the throng, at the faces overlaid with smiles and politeness. "How do you stand it, Banrion?" she asked. "Doesn't it drive you mad?" The crowd parted momentarily, and through the silken rift, Jenna saw Tiarna Mac Ard across the room, with her mam at his side and a quartet of the Riocha women also surrounding him. Maeve looked uneasy in the midst of the other women, her smile lopsided as her atten-tion went from one to another of them, all of them obviously much more at ease and more skilled at the game of flirtation. Maeve's hand cradled her abdomen more than once. Jenna felt Cianna's gaze shift, following her eyes.
"There are rules even in this, Jenna. You've already learned some of them; if you want to keep the stone and also stay alive, you must continue to learn. You think Padraic Mac Ard doesn't
understand how our society works? He does, all too well. That’s why he doesn’t marry your mam-because marriage to him is another weapon, one that often can be used only once, so he won’t unsheathe it lightly."
"He uses my mam, then," Jenna said heatedly.
Cianna coughed, though it might have been a laugh. "I don’t doubt that Padraic also loves her, or he wouldn’t be so openly with her-he knows that his relationship with your mam dulls the blade of the marriage weapon, because it says that his true affection is elsewhere. He does love your mam, and that may have saved you as well, Jenna."
You said to trust no one, and I wondered… I wondered if Tiarna Mac Ard sent the assassin."
Jenna felt more than saw Cianna shake her head. "Mac Ard would take Lamh Shabhala if he could, I agree. But I know him well, and his person-ality is more suited to the frontal attack. He can be subtle when he needs to be, but when action must be taken, he prefers to do it himself and openly. I wouldn’t entirely trust him, if I were you, but I also doubt that the assassin was his man."
Jenna wasn’t certain she was convinced, but she nodded her head in the direction of the Ri, still in conversation with O Liathain. "The Tanaise Rig, then," Jenna said, and watched Cianna purse her lips.
"Possibly," she said. "Hiring someone to do his killing for him is more his style, certainly-he wouldn’t want to bloody his own hands. And through the Ri Ard, he has the money and connections; the assassin could have come from the east rather than the west. The Ri Ard used an assassin himself to kill his predecessor-or at least that’s the rumor-and Nevan is more ambitious than even his father. Holding Lamh Shabhala and being Ri Ard: that would place him in a very powerful position indeed."
"You think it was him, then?"
Cianna shrugged. "Possibly," she repeated. "Maybe even probably. But there are other contenders here: my husband is certainly one; Tiarna Ah-eron, whose uncle is Ri of Infochla and who has been snatching any re-puted clochs he can find, buy, or steal, is another. Jenna, any of the
Riocha here could be the one."
Jenna's head whirled. She'd taken anduilleaf a few hours ago; the effects were already starting to fade, and her arm throbbed with a promise of pain to come. She looked out at the crowd and saw skeletons and ghouls underneath the fine clothing and polite speech.
A gong rang. "There, we're being called to table," Cianna said. "Come, walk with me. You will sit next to me tonight-we'll let Padraic move a seat farther down."
"Banrion?"
Cianna smiled. "Just a little object lesson, Jenna. Everyone will notice your elevation, though no one will say anything until afterward when they're alone. Even Mac Ard will gracefully make the shift, but he'll also see the message in it: that the Holder is now more important than the one who found her, and that what happens to you will be of intense concern to me." She coughed, and cleared phlegm from her voice. "That also means no one will question too much what you do, even if you should decide to consort with a simple harper."
Jenna felt her cheeks flush. "Banrion, I… "
"Oh, he's handsome enough, I'll grant you, and has talent for what he does. A little dalliance with him won't hurt you as long as you take the proper precautions-I'll make sure the healer sends a packet of the right herbs to you. But he can't help you, Jenna, not in this. Tell me, is it true you knew this Coelin in Ballintubber?"
"Aye, Banrion."
Cianna nodded. "Convenient that he should arrive here in Lar Bhaile just at this moment, don't you think?" she asked, but she gave Jenna no chance to ponder that question or to try to answer. "Come. All the tiarna are seated by now. Time to give them something to contemplate… "
"You were wonderful. The Ri and the Banrion were rapt-did you notice?"
Jenna could see the grin tugging at the corners of Coelin's mouth as she complimented his performance. "Aye," he said. "I did. I thought I might forget some of the words, but they came back to me in time. The captain said that I might be
asked to sing again at an entertainment for the Tanaise Rig in five days, and he gave me a gold morceint for the evening. That's more than I saw for months in Ballintubber." The grin spread, and Jenna impulsively reached up and kissed him. She started to pull away, but his arms went around her and he brought her close, cup-ping his hand around the back of her head. The kiss was long and deep, and Jenna wanted more, but it was late and the carriages were already waiting at the gates of the keep to take the extra servers and entertainers back down into the town. "Jenna, when can I see you again?"
Stay, she wanted to say, but she remembered Banrion Cianna's admoni-tions, and there would be her mam's questions, and the pain in her arm was getting worse. . "The day after tomorrow," she said. "You know the market in Low Town? I'll meet you there, when they ring the bells after morning services at the Mother-Creator's temple."
"I'll be there," he promised. He kissed her again, quickly this time, and held her hand-her left hand. He didn't touch the right. His fingers pressed against her. "The day after tomorrow will seem like forever before it comes," he said, and walked quickly away toward the gates across the courtyard. Jenna watched until he reached the gates and the gardai there pushed the inner door open. He went through, and she could hear that he was whistling. She smiled.
As she turned to go back into the keep, she saw movement at one of the windows: a shutter swinging closed. She glimpsed a face in the win-dow just before the shutters pulled tight, shadowed in the dim light of the moon and the torches around the courtyard.
Tiarna Mac Ard's face.
Chapter 21: A Familiar Face
"YOU will stay here with the carriage," she told the quartet of gardai Tiarna Mac Ard had sent with her. The protest was predictable, but when she