As would have happened in Tara’s tavern back in Ballintubber, the newcomers to The Green Waters, Banshaigh’s only inn, were greeted with curious looks and many questions. Jenna and O’Deoradhain agreed on their cover story before entering the village: they were cousins uprooted from their homes in Tuath Gabair by the recent troubles and hoping to return to the home of their uncle in Inish Thuaidh. Banshaigh wasn’t much larger than Ballintubber and though the villagers were aware of the hostilities between Connachta and Gabair, they were far enough removed from the larger towns and the Riocha that they were more sympathetic than hostile to the unfortunate travelers, especially
since O'Deoradhain seemed to know as much about fishing as any of the locals.
Lough Glas, the green lake, was fed by springs, brooks, and rills run-ning from the high hills around it, and fed from its western end into a mountain-flanked and marshy tidal basin and the sea. Aye, the village fisherfolk sometimes ventured out into the open ocean. Aye, there was one fisherman in the village who would doubtless be willing to sail them to Inish Thuaidh for a fair price-Flynn Meagher had a large enough boat and often sailed the coast, if never that far north.
They went to see Flynn Meagher the next morning near dawn, in a windy downpour.
Meagher was a burly, nontalkative man, who grunted as O'Deoradhain explained what they wanted. "Maybe six days out, six back, fewer if the wind is good," Meagher said finally. "Need to take another person to help me sail and I won't be able to do any fishing. A half-morceint a day is what I'll need." His face showed that he expected the bedraggled strangers to turn and leave with that. When O'Deoradhain showed him three golden coins and placed one of them in Meagher's palm, he seemed aston-ished.
"A quarter-morceint a day is twice as much as you should get, but we're in a hurry," O'Deoradhain countered. "I'll give you one morceint now so you can hire your crew member and provision the boat. You'll get the other two when we get there."
Meagher stared at the money in his hand. Slowly, his fingers curled around the coin, then opened again. He seemed to be thinking. "Can't leave today. Tomorrow. Better weather, better tide."
"We'll be here tomorrow morning, then. Same time."
A nod. His hand closed around the money and disappeared under the oiled leather coat.
"He could take us a day's sail out, kill us while we're sleeping, steal the money and dump our bodies overboard for the fish," Jenna said as they walked back to the inn.
"Aye, he could," O'Deoradhain admitted. "We'll need to be careful. But we also have defenses he doesn't know we have, and I could sail that boat myself with your help if we needed to. Do you have
She didn’t. But she didn’t feel easy about the decision.
The next day they sold their horses to the proprietor of The Green Waters and went to meet Meagher at his boat near the end of the docks. The day Promised to be a fine one, as Meagher had suggested, but despite the yellow glow on the horizon and the deep, nearly cloudless azure above, Jenna felt more and more uneasy as they approached their rendezvous. She opened Lamh Shabhala slightly, examining the space around them with the cloch’s vision. There were several other people in the dock area which was to be expected, but if there were other clochs nearby, they were well-shielded. They walked toward the small wooden shack on the shore where Meagher stored his nets and other equipment.
Jenna put her hand on O’Deoradhain’s arm. "Wait," she said. She could feel several people in the immediate area, yet the only one she could see was Meagher, on his boat and waving at them. "There are too many-"
It was as far as she got. The door to Meagher’s shack opened. Tiarna Mac Ard stood there, and she suddenly felt the concealing shields go down around the rubied jewel already grasped in his hand.
"No!" Mac Ard shouted as both Jenna and O’Deoradhain reached for their own clochs. "Don’t move!" Several men now appeared around the dock area, at least a half dozen with arrows nocked in bows already pulled back at full draw. They wore no colors, but they were obviously gardai. "Those arrows are aimed at your friend, Jenna," Mac Ard continued. "I’ve seen what you can do, but I doubt that he’s had enough practice yet to know how to use that cloch well. If they see him touch poor Gairbith’s stone, though, they will fire."
Both of their hands went back to their sides and a grim smile came over Mac Ard’s face. He took a few steps toward them, though he stopped several yards away. "Your mam sends you her love and concern, Jenna. When I saw her last, a month ago, she was big with your half brother-at least the midwife tells us she thinks it’s a boy."
"Have you married her, or will this son be a bastard?" Jenna spat out, and Mac Ard’s smile
"Marriage is… a tool," he answered slowly. "You know that, even if you don't like it. In my position, one should only use it at need."
"What about my mam's needs?"
"My heart is with Maeve, Jenna," he answered.
"It will always be, whether I marry another woman or not. I don't know if you can believe that, but it's true and your mam knows it. And I know that my love is returned. She understands why I don't marry her; she also knows that I will always take care of her, as I'll take care of your brother when he's born. Despite what you might want to believe, I'm not a monster." He spread his hands wide as if he were about to embrace her, the cloch glinting in his right palm. "Give me Lamh Shabhala, freely, and I will also give you my promise that I will use the tool of marriage in a way that would please you. Your mam and my son, your half brother, would share my name. I would make her Bantiarna Mac Ard."
Jenna didn't answer but glanced at O'Deoradhain, and Mac Ard's gaze followed hers. "You're more resourceful than I'd thought, Inishlander," he said to O'Deoradhain. "I've underestimated you twice now. It won't hap-again. I also see the way she looks at you. Poor Coelin would be jealous, I think, though I doubt his wife lets the young man out of her sight any more."
His regard came back to Jenna. "I'll let you and O'Deoradhain take this man's ship back to Inish Thuaidh," he told her, gesturing at Meagher's boat. "But Lamh Shabhala and Gairbith's cloch must be given to me. Mow." He waited; Jenna only breathed, her mind whirling. "I need an answer, Jenna. You're not going to get a better offer. It's difficult, holding back bowstrings this long. I can see their fingers trembling. I'd hate to have one of them slip."
"You'll just kill us anyway," she said. "You would have killed me a few days ago."
Mac Ard shook his head. "Only if I'd had to. That time, I was defending myself from your attack and I seem to recall that it was you who struck first." He shrugged, and a faint smile appeared in the curl of his lips. "Aye, I'd kill you if it means saving myself. I don't apologize for that, either. If I wanted you
dead, Jenna, I wouldn’t be standing here talking with you. I’d have struck before you ever saw us."
"You can’t leave us alive and go back to Tuath Gabair and the Ri, not with all these witnesses."
Mac Ard’s empty hand gestured to the men surrounding them. "These are my personal gardai, loyal to me and not Ri Gabair," he responded. "They will see what I tell them to see. I don’t have many options here, however. I can’t take you back to Lar Bhaile with me-not after what you’ve done. For the Banrion’s death alone your life is forfeit, and there are the gardai you killed afterward at the bridge and the death of Gairbith and his men. And there were those we sent into Doire Coill to look for you who never came back." He sighed, shaking his head. "All that would await you in Lar Bhaile is torture and an eventual execution; I couldn’t stand the torment and sorrow that would bring to Maeve. But I can take Lamh Shabhala back and tell the Ri that I killed you and O’Deoradhain in battle, and no one will challenge that tale. Then you and the Inishlander can go to your island, once I have your vow that you’ll stay there and never return here at all." His scarred head cocked toward her questioningly. "Well, Jenna? I offer you your life and your friend’s as well as your mam’s future, all in return for the clochs na thintri you have. Is that not a fair enough trade?"