"IT was my brother," the Banrion said. "Or at least I have to make that I assumption. He’s gone, along with all his retainers."
Jenna had been carried to her chambers in the keep and the healer sent for. Moister Cleurach had come rushing in as well, refusing to leave in case he might need to defend her with his cloch. Guards were set outside the doors and in the hallways, and trackers were sent in pursuit of Aron 0 Dochartaigh.
Now, several hours later, Jenna lay bandaged in her bed, the cuts, scrapes, and burns on her body salved and wrapped, her right arm and chest throbbing with fiery needles each time she breathed or moved. She kept finding her gaze snagged on the set of drawers across the room where the bag of anduilleaf sat. The only thing that kept her from telling them to bring her the leaf was knowing how disappointed Ennis would be if she started using it again.
She wasn’t sure how long that would mean anything. She was afraid that Ennis might never have the chance to know.
The Banrion Aithne sat alongside the bed, at her left hand, and for the first time Jenna seemed to see genuine anguish on her face. Her haughti-ness and stiff certainty were gone. "I’ve sent word that the Comhairle will meet tomorrow, and we’ll send an edict to the Ri that Aron and those with him are to be proclaimed traitors, with the price of death on their heads! Holder O’Deoradhain is harmed." A trace of her old confidence returned to her. "The Ri will sign the warrant, of course."
"Where has your brother gone?" Jenna asked. Her throat was raw; it hurt to talk. It hurt to move. It
"If I know him, he's riding hard for the mountains of Rubha na Scarbh That's where we both grew up, and he knows the paths and hidden places as well as anyone. There are caverns and lost valleys there where he can hide for years, and an army would not be able to dig him out. The people there are like him: grim and solitary folks, fiercely loyal to their clan-kin-they won't care about the proclamation. They'll hide him and protect him."
"So you're telling me that the warrant means nothing."
Aithne shrugged. "If we can find him before he reaches Rubha na Scarbh, it means everything. It's a long ride over hard country, and there are several townlands to cross with people who will wonder why a tiarna and his people are passing through so quickly. But once he's there, in his own land… " She shook her head. "I won't lie to you, Holder* In his land, he is the only genuine Rl, even though he doesn't claim that title. Inish Thuaidh isn't like the Tuatha of Talamh an Ghlas. We may fight, clan against clan, but we'd resist together if the Rl MacBradaigh tried to use the power given him by the Comhairle to take out one of us-because we would fear we'd be the next. The warrant may cause someone to betray Aron; we can hope for that. There will be people there who consider themselves more loyal to me than to him. And we can send a few troops in to look for him, though not an army."
Moister Cleurach stirred from the chair in which he'd been sitting all evening. "The Banrion tells you the truth, Jenna. We Inishlanders covet our little independences. We take oath first to clan, then to townland, and last to Dun Kiil."
"If they. ." Kill, Jenna started to say, but she wouldn't utter the word. "Speak ill and you make it true" was an old saying, one she'd heard her Aldwoman Pearce or her own mam utter many times."… hurt Ennis at all, I swear by the Mother-Creator Herself that I will kill him. I don't care if he's your brother, Banrion. I don't care about anything. I will kill him.
The Banrion smiled thinly. "You're an Inishlander, Holder. I would ex-pect nothing else."
"There were two other Cloch Mor Mages with him. Who were they?
"We don't know."
"You hold a Cloch Mor yourself, even if you hide it from everyone. Show it to me."
Aithne started, sitting back in the chair and glancing at Moister Cleurach. But she didn't deny the accusation. Her hands went to her neck, and she slowly lifted a fine, silver chain there. From under her leine, a blue stone emerged, a finger's length long and cut with intricate facets.
"Do you recognize it?" Jenna asked Moister Cleurach, who leaned forward to look closely at the gem, then shook his head.
"No. It's not a stone that the Order held."
"I wasn't a party to the Inishfeirm raid and I wasn't with my brother tonight, if that was your suspicion, Holder," Aithne said. "I can under-stand why you'd be cautious. But I was with the Rl. You can ask any of the Riocha or half the townspeople. I had nothing to do with this. Or you can use Lamh Shabhala and judge the truth of what I say."
Jenna held Aithne's gaze for a long breath, then closed her eyes. "Put the cloch away," she told her. "You're probably wise not to let others see it."
The Banrion tucked the gem back under her leine and leaned over to hold Jenna's hand. "I promise you that all that can be done is being done. Get yourself well again-that's the best you can do for him right now." With that, the Banrion left the room in a rustle of linen and a whiff of musk oil.
"She'll do as she promises," Moister Cleurach said. "I know that much."
"I hope you're right." Jenna pulled herself up on the bed, grimacing as freshly-closed wounds pulled. "I should have been able to stop it. I should have been stronger."
Moister Cleurach sniffed. "There were three Clochs Mor set against you. I think you did as well as anyone could have. I could read you the histories, or you could listen to the Holders' voices inside Lamh Shabhala. There have been Holders who have fallen against two clochs, or even one that surprised and overwhelmed them before they could react.
You fought three, and you might have beaten them
had they stayed to play it out. But I don’t think they truly expected to defeat Lamh Shabhala. They would have taken that gift if it had happened, but I wonder if all along the real target wasn’t you, but Ennis."
"Why? Why would Aron want Ennis?"
"Do you love Ennis?"
The question made Jenna blink. "Aye," she answered, feeling the truth in the gaping wound inside her, one that no Healer could cure. "I do."
Moister Cleurach’s mouth tightened; his eyes narrowed. "And Aron O Dochartaigh loved his daughter," he said.
She knew he was right, knew it even as she shook her head in reflexive disagreement. The tiarna wanted to hurt Jenna as she had hurt him, and that realization was a sword blade in her gut, ripping and tearing at her soul. "No. ." she whispered, and the word was not so much a denial as a plea.
The light shifted in the room, a wavering brightness that dimmed for a moment the yellow glow of the candles. Outside, the mage-lights touched the sky, wrapping around the moon and calling to her. Jenna flung aside the covers.
"You can’t," Moister Cleurach said. He rose, as if to guide her back down. "You’re too weak and it will hurt too much. The lights will come again tomorrow or the next day."
Jenna pushed his hands away. "So might the next attack or the chance to help Ennis. I need Lamh Shabhala full. Lamh Shabhala wants to be full." Biting her lips to keep from crying out, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Moister Cleurach, without saying anything, brought a woolen shawl and draped it over her shoulders. He helped her up, held her as she walked across the room and pushed open the doors to the balcony. The cold night air bit into her and she shivered. The snage-lights crawled and sparked from horizon to horizon between the shreds of clouds. Everywhere, she knew, the cloudmages were lifting their clochs to sky. That’s what Aron would be doing, she was certain, and the other two who had been with him.
She took Lamh Shabhala in her right hand. The mage-lights curled and swayed above her in response. She lifted it to the tendrils of light snaking down from above, closing her eyes as the icy touch burned along her hand and wrist and arm and Lamh Shabhala greedily sucked in the power.
She had drained the cloch nearly dry. When it was full again, when the mage-lights reluctantly drew away from her, she would have fallen if Moister Cleurach had not been there to catch her. "Get the Holder a solution of kala bark for the pain," he snapped at the healer as they came back into the chamber. He helped her onto the bed and patted her forehead with a warm, wet towel. He took her cold right hand between his gnarled fingers and rubbed life back into it. "Come back with me to Inishfeirm, Jenna. There are still things I need to teach you. There's nothing you can do about Ennis now-it's out of your hands. You can help him most by being as strong as you can."