Ennis’ hand reached down, pulling the cloch from the captain. There was a scream, a wail of wild distress and loss. The wind slowly died; the rain fell to a drizzle. The waves fell.
"Well done, Holder." The Banrion was standing at the entrance to the cabin, and Moister Cleurach emerged behind her. The crew, appearing dazed, were gazing about them in bewilderment as Ennis and the gardai dragged the captain forward. The man was weeping, and he stared at Ennis, struggling to be released. "Give it back!" he cried. "I have to have it. You must give it back!" In Ennis’ hand was a large crystalline stone, which he gave to Moister Cleurach. The older man held up the gem: a mottled smoky-gray like an approaching thunderhead.
"It’s named Stormbringer," Moister Cleurach said, his face grim. "I know it-it’s one of the clochs na thintri stolen from the Order." He walked up to the captain, now moaning in the hands of the gardai, and abruptly slapped him across the face. "Thief!" he spat. "And worse you’re a traitor." Moister Cleurach pointed eastward.
Under the clearing sky, they could all see four ships well away to the east. Three of them flew green-and-gold banners from their masts, and one green and earth-brown: Tuath Infochla’s colors, and Tuath Gabair’s. Jenna was still holding Lamh Shabhala, not daring to let it go because she was still borrowing the cloch’s strength to hold off the pain that would come. She could feel faintly, at the outer edge of the cloch’s vision, the presence of two more Clochs Mor out where the ships lurked. "You were sending us to them. You were to hand over the Banrion and the First Holder."
The man's head hung down. He didn't dare to look up at them. "My cloch," he whispered. "Please…"
"You, First Mate!" Banrion Aithne called out to one of the crewmen, who hurried forward. "You are now Captain. Bring us around and take us back to Inish Thuaidh." The man bowed, and began shouting to the crew. They hurried up the mast and started to unfurl the sail. Aithne turned back to the former captain as the Uaigneas started a slow turn back north and west, putting its stern to the waiting ships. "Your life is forfeit," she told the weeping man. "Kill him and toss the body overboard," she told the garda holding the man. "His friends may want to recover the body before the sharks find it, but I doubt it. That will end his pain." The garda's hand closed around the long knife at his belt and the captain blanched, closing his eyes. The Banrion held out her hand to Moister Cleurach. "And the Cloch Mor 1 claim for the Ri."
"No!" Jenna shouted. The garda stopped his thrust in mid-motion; Aithne's head swiveled to regard Jenna with eyes of green ice.
"No?" she asked, her eyebrows raised. "I remind you, First Holder, that you are on a ship I command."
"And you and your ship would have been in their hands and your husband paying your ransom if I hadn't been here," Jenna answered. "The cloch was stolen from the Order of Inishfeirm and cloudmages of the Order have won it back again."
Aithne sniffed. Jenna could see her considering her next words. "I sup-pose that's a fair statement," she said finally, though Jenna knew that did not reflect her true feelings. "And what would you do with the traitor, First Holder?"
Jenna didn't answer the Banrion directly. Instead, she turned to the former captain. "Look at me," she said, and he lifted his head slowly. "I hold Lamh Shabhala, and it can hear truth," she told the ashen-faced man, though it pleased her to see a flicker of uncertainty also cross the Banrion's face. "Tell me a lie and I'll let the Banrion's order stand. Tell me the truth and you might manage to live. How did you come to hold Stormbringer?"
"I'm sorry, Holder, Banrion," he said. "I didn't want this. ." He stopped, his face stricken. "My son… he was in fosterage to my cousin, a tiarna in
Infochla. Two weeks ago, a man came to me with the cloch. He offered me. ." The man gulped. "He seemed to know that this would happen. He told me what the cloch could do and said he would show me how to use it. He promised that if I brought you and the Banrion to them, I would be made Riocha myself and could remain as the Holder of Stormbringer. And if I failed… He made no direct threats, but I under-stood that my son was a blood-hostage, and he would pay for my failure.
Holder, my son is all I have. My wife is dead, there are no other children… "
He sagged in Ennis’ arms, his face to the deck.
"I’m sorry. I’m sorry I betrayed you and the Banrion. I’m sorry that my weakness will almost certainly mean my son’s death." His head came up again. "Kill me," he said to Jenna. "I’ve lost my son; I’ve lost the cloch. It hurts too much. Kill me and let me rest. At least my son and I can be together in the womb of the Mother-Creator."
He closed his eyes, as if awaiting the dagger’s thrust. The garda looked at Jenna, then at the Banrion, who shrugged. "Leave this judgment to the Holder," she said.
They were all staring at her. Jenna took a long breath, not certain what to do. There were no good decisions here, she realized. She felt sorry for the man; he’d been well-trapped by Infochla. Now, his livelihood was lost and he’d be forever branded a traitor, his son likely dead. Jenna closed her eyes, her fingers still around Lamh Shabhala, her arm beginning to throb with the pain of using it. In the cloch’s vision, she could feel each of the people on the ship, and in the water, nearby. .
"Throw him over the side," she said to the garda. "Toss him in the water."
Ennis started to protest, and the Banrion chuckled. "You surprise me, Holder. A slow drowning rather than a quick death…"
"Do it!" she told the garda, with a look of warning to Ennis. Ennis let go of the man and the garda pushed him toward the railing. He glanced back at Jenna as the captain stared down at the cold water rushing by. "Go on," Jenna told him.
The garda pushed hard at the captain’s back. He tumbled over the side. The Banrion took a step to
the rail and glanced down. Already the man was behind the boat, thrashing at the waves, gasping as the frigid water leeched the strength from his body. "Well, that's done," she said. "Holder, Moister… " She moved away, gesturing to the new captain.
Jenna stood with eyes half-closed, watching and listening through the cloch. A trio of Saimhoir were close by: Thraisha was not with them, but Garrentha was. Go to him, she whispered in the voice of the stone, know-ing the seal would hear her. Keep him alive and take him to the other ships.
In her head, there was a warble of acknowledgment from Garrentha.
She released Lamh Shabhala, gasping as the pain came to her fully, forcing herself to take slow, deep breaths. Moister Cleurach looked at her, hefting Stormbringer in his hand. Ennis gave her a concerned frown, and nodded.
"This will be the last Cloch Mor we take alone," she told them. "They’ll know now that one Cloch Mor isn't enough against Lamh Shabhala, and they won't make that mistake again." For a moment, she felt she could glimpse the future, and it was dark and bloody. She watched the sails behind them and felt the touch of dread. Jenna rubbed at her dead, cold arm as if she could scrub away the marks there. The pain ripped from hand to shoulder and into her chest. Her body trembled with it; she closed her eyes and clenched her jaw to keep from crying out. Ennis rushed over and took her in his arms and she let herself relax into his grasp, allowing him hold her up. When the worst of the spasms passed, she pulled away from his embrace and looked at the ships of the tuatha again, growing smaller in the distance.
"I don't know that we can survive when they all come," she said.
Chapter 42: Dun Kiil
LAR Bhaile and the Rls Keep were more magnificent. Ath Iseal was larger. Ballintubber
seemed more inviting.
At first glance, Dun Kiil was a gray town on a gray mountainside be-yond gray water. Jenna knew the impression was unfair-the weather had gone to drizzle by the time they reached the seat of Inish Thuaidh and the clouds were a landscape of unbroken, featureless slate overhead. The bright colors of the doors and the flowery window boxes were muted, and most of the people in the streets were intent on getting to their desti-nations and out of the weather.