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Authors: Juliet Marillier

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Ana drew a deep breath. “That is four questions at least,” she said. “To the best of my understanding, and you are
right, my lord, it is limited, I believe Bridei seeks only your assurance that the men of Briar Wood will not take up arms against him. He does not anticipate any contribution by the Caitt to his own forces. I cannot tell you what venture is planned, nor when it might come about. I did, in fact, attempt to ask some questions on those matters when I learned I must travel to Briar Wood. I obtained
no satisfactory answers.”
This was close to the truth; Faolan had not thought she would play such a dangerous game.
“You’re well endowed with curiosity,” Alpin commented with a little smile. “But then, that’s perhaps not so surprising in a young woman.”
Ana did not reply.
“If I’d been in your position,” Alpin said, “I’d have been asking Bridei why he didn’t wait for a reply to his message
before dispatching you on your journey. Why such haste? Unusual, that. Unusual and not particularly kind to you. Isn’t this young king generally referred to as a model of all that is just and good, as if he were indeed a human embodiment of the Flamekeeper or some such?” He scratched his beard. “Or is that just a tale put out by his cronies, the druid Broichan and the others, to remind the rest of
us who holds the real power in the Priteni lands now? The druid worked the election rather cleverly, so I was told.”
Ana looked at Faolan, an appeal in her eyes.
“May I speak?” Faolan addressed the question directly to her.
“Please do, Faolan,” Ana said. Then, turning to the others, “Faolan has spent some time at Bridei’s court; he’s had opportunity to observe the king in the company of men.”
“What they say of Bridei is true,” Faolan said quietly. “It is not for nothing they call him the Eagle; he possesses a far-seeing strength and a heart-deep devotion to the old gods of the Priteni. Of recent times men have been giving him a new name, one in keeping with his plans for the future of his people.”
“And what name is that?” Alpin was interested despite himself.
“They’re calling him
the Blade of Fortriu, my lord; the one who will sweep the lands of the west clean of the Gaelic invader.”
“I see.” Alpin regarded him closely. “You announce this in the manner of a man who thinks little of it one way or another. And yet you’re a Gael, and a Gael of high birth unless I’m very much mistaken. Why aren’t you plucking your strings and blowing your pipes at the court of the Dalriadan
king in Dunadd, or back over the water in Ulaid? The lords of the Uí Néill would value your services, I expect.”
“I’m in Lady Ana’s employ, my lord, until she is settled at Briar Wood. At that time, lacking another messenger, I will convey the news of what transpired here back to White Hill for her. My past is of no relevance. I left the west long ago and I have no plans to return.” Alpin had
come close to the mark, painfully close; this line of questioning must be shut down swiftly.
“As for the other question,” Ana put in, “I was disconcerted by the requirement that I ride here before the king received your response. You can imagine, I am sure, how a young woman feels in such a situation.” She was blushing. Faolan was struck, for a crazy moment, by the belief that she had seen his
own confusion and spoken up to divert Alpin’s attention from him. “A woman prefers to know she is welcome,” Ana went on. “She prefers to wed where she is sure of her future husband’s approval. That we had no idea of your feelings on the matter troubled me greatly on the journey here but, of course, when the flood came and we lost so many … I realized then how unimportant such petty concerns were
… I’m sorry …” She reached up a hand to brush tears from her eyes; an instant later the little maid, Ludha, was there with a clean handkerchief and a murmured word. “Thank you, Ludha. I apologize, my lord.” Ana squared her shoulders, lifted her head. “As you see, I am still not quite recovered from that experience.”
“You should give the lady more time.” Faolan was unable to remain silent. “Surely
this discussion can wait—”
“No, Faolan,” Ana said. “We must at least set out Bridei’s terms now. We owe it to those who perished to complete the mission.”
“Mission?” echoed Dregard. “Since when does a bridal journey become a mission?”
“It becomes one when the marriage is dependent on a written and witnessed treaty,” Ana said firmly. “That’s what Bridei requires. The terms are to be set down
by a scribe and overseen by an independent party such as a druid; since you’ll need to summon a druid for the handfasting anyway, that should be easy to arrange. Lord Alpin agrees that Briar Wood will not take up arms against Bridei or ally itself with the Gaels. That’s what it must say. In return, the marriage between myself and Lord Alpin will go ahead.” Her voice had suddenly lost its confident
note, but she went grimly on. “I did not think to have to present my own case here, but it seems I must. I am of the royal line of the Priteni, through the branch that furnishes the kings of the Folk, who are subject to the overlordship of the king of Fortriu. My cousin is king in the Light Isles. I come from a healthy and fruitful family. I am in my nineteenth year, and have lived at the court
of Fortriu since I was a child of ten. As for Bridei’s reasons in dispatching our party when he did, I was never told them. As a royal hostage of long standing I have learned to obey the king’s orders and not to ask too many questions, my lord. Perhaps I do possess an excess of curiosity, but I would never allow that to endanger other folk’s lives, or my own.”
There was a moment’s silence, then
Alpin put his hands together in slow applause.
Ana’s blush deepened to red. “You mock me, my lord?” Her voice was shaking now. Tension filled every part of Faolan’s body, though whether the urge to take her in his arms and comfort her or the desire to wring that hairy thug’s neck for him was stronger, he could not tell. He sat perfectly still, keeping his demeanor calm. In his line of business,
the skill of not drawing attention was a primary tool. There wasn’t a lot he could do about the maelstrom in his heart, but he could at least ensure it remained there, invisible.
“Not at all, my dear,” Alpin said. “Let me give you some ale; you seem distressed. My admiration is entirely genuine. You find yourself in a particularly awkward situation and, I’m sorry to admit, there’s a certain entertainment
to be had in watching you struggle with it. You deal with it ably for a young woman; of course I do not expect you to have much knowledge of the games men play, your Bridei among them. Any education you have had was all fine embroidery and preserving fruit in honey, I expect.”
Ana regarded him in silence a moment. Faolan recalled that she had been educated in Fola’s establishment at Banmerren,
along with an exceptional group of young women including both Tuala and Talorgen’s daughter, Ferada. Fola was revered for her scholarship and intellectual rigor.
“Fine embroidery is one of my particular interests, my lord,” Ana said coolly. “Now, concerning the treaty. Do you require a certain time to make up your mind? Have you any questions?” Her brows lifted in queenly fashion, and in that
moment Faolan admired her most of all, for she made humiliation into a triumph. Her eyes caught his a moment; he allowed himself a little nod, a hint of a smile.
“May I speak, my lady?” he asked her again.
“Most certainly, Faolan.”
“I believe there’s a point that needs to be clarified,” he said, hunching his shoulders a little in the demeanor of a man uncomfortable at having to speak out in
a company of his betters. He hoped he wasn’t overdoing it.
“What point?” Alpin snapped.
“Go on, Faolan,” Ana said softly, playing the game. “You may well have heard something of significance at White Hill, something I was not privy to. Men will discuss these things in more depth when women are not present, I know that.”
“It was something Kinet mentioned,” Faolan said, thinking quickly. “Something
about my lord Alpin’s other property on the west coast and the need to be sure the loyalty of both households is secured by this treaty.”
“On the west coast?” mused Ana, who knew very well the significance of that. “Now why would—oh, I see. It would provide a sea route to Dalriada … yes, I’m sure Bridei would want to be certain the agreement extended to all your territories, my lord. I was not
aware that you had another tract of land besides Briar Wood. It is a long way to the west coast, is it not?”
“Long enough,” said Alpin shortly. His tone had grown cold. “The place there, Dreaming Glen, is not mine, it’s my brother’s.”
Faolan managed to conceal his surprise. Back at White Hill there’d been no talk of any brother; if this had been known, Bridei would have been sure to investigate
further before setting out his terms. He was still searching for the right question to ask when Ana spoke.
“You have a brother? You didn’t speak of him when I asked you about your family. Or perhaps I misheard. He’s in the west, I presume. Alpin, the marriage must wait until this brother can be consulted. Clearly, Bridei will need the consent of you both to the agreement. I regret to say this,
but it appears he views each of you as a potential threat or, one would hope, a significant ally.”
She was bold. Faolan hoped she had not overstepped the mark, for if Alpin reacted with anger he thought he might not be able to control his own response this time. But the answer, when it came, surprised him. The chieftain of Briar Wood erupted into bitter, self-mocking laughter.
“Consult my brother?
I think not. All you’d get out of him is nonsense. I speak for him on all such matters.”
There was a silence. Ana and Faolan looked at him, waiting for more. For the first time, Alpin seemed uncomfortable. His broad cheeks had flushed and he was not meeting anyone in the eye but fiddling with his ale cup, a fine piece with red stones set near the rim and a pattern of dogs in wire work.
“I don’t
understand,” Ana said after it became apparent Alpin was not going to offer a further explanation. “You say you speak for him, but if this place, Dreaming Glen, is his, then surely he must control whatever forces are there. What do you mean, my lord?”
“Briar Wood was our father’s land,” Alpin said. His reluctance to elaborate was obvious; he was ill at ease, restless on the chair, fingers in
constant movement. “The other place was passed to my brother direct from our maternal grandfather, a special arrangement. But, alas, my brother is in no fit state to take responsibility for lands or men. He is … deeply unwell.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Ana said. “I hope he will be better soon. Perhaps a messenger could be dispatched to the west so we can obtain his consent to the agreement.
I understand that he cannot travel, of course. Such a long way, and difficult …”
“I could go,” Faolan offered helpfully.
Dregard cleared his throat as if about to speak.
“This is not something of which we talk openly here at Briar Wood,” Alpin said heavily. “It would have suited me better to wait and give Ana the information in private. It’s a family matter and quite delicate in nature.”
Ana and Faolan maintained their silence, waiting for more.
“The fact is,” Alpin said, “my brother is not at Dreaming Glen, he’s here, and has been for all the years of his … illness. His affliction is a lifelong condition, and incurable.”
“Your brother is here?” Ana exclaimed. “Then why … is he too ill to be in company? How sad for you!” She was not playing a game any longer, but spoke in genuine
sympathy. “What is it, the falling sickness?”
Alpin gave a grim smile. “Would that it were a malady so easily accommodated, my dear. I’m afraid Drustan has a condition that renders him a threat both to himself and to others. It’s been necessary to keep him in … confinement. He’s … I don’t know how to put it for you. He’s just not right in the head, and he never has been.”
Faolan’s attention
was drawn to Ana’s face, for during this last speech something had changed in her expression; she seemed to him unaccountably dismayed by Alpin’s speech. “Excuse me,” she said abruptly. “I’m feeling a little unwell. Can we resume this later? Ludha, come with me.” She turned her back and left the chamber, and the maid scurried after.
For a little, none of the men spoke. Then Alpin took the ale
jug, refilled his own cup and Dregard’s and, after a moment’s hesitation, poured a third and pushed it in Faolan’s direction. “I’ve upset the lady,” the chieftain said. “Such news is never well received, and certainly not by a young bride. What girl wants to learn she’s marrying into a family with a streak of insanity? There are ways and ways of telling people these things, and that wasn’t the best
way.”
“I’m sorry,” Faolan said quietly, and meant it. Not that he cared at all for Alpin’s sensitivities, but he would have done much to avoid distressing Ana. Her reaction had surprised him. She had handled Alpin’s veiled insults with the judgment of a councillor and the good manners of a lady. But this news had shaken her.
“She’ll come to terms with it, my lord,” Dregard said.
“I hope so,”
Alpin said, sipping his ale, “for I confess to a strong desire—a bard might say a burning desire—for this marriage to go ahead. This woman can provide me with fine sons, and a great deal of pleasure in the getting of them. I can see she’s livelier than her demure manners suggest. I had hoped we might conclude this speedily. I’ve already sent for a druid, I did so the day you arrived.” He glanced
at Faolan. “The fellow should be here within a turning of the moon, possibly sooner if the weather allows. There are not so many of that kind in the northern lands, and they tend to favor inconvenient places to live: caves halfway up cliffs, or barely accessible islets, or hidden clefts in deep woods. There’s a small community of them in the far north of Umbrig’s land; I sent my message there. Let’s
hope we get someone who can write. I don’t keep a household scribe here. Word of mouth is a good enough pledge of faith among the Caitt.”

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