Child of the Prophecy (56 page)

"That can't be right, Mother." Johnny spoke with absolute confidence. "I've seen Fainne with the children. She loves them. You should hear her telling stories, or see her by Maeve's bedside. There's no evil there; indeed, there's a simplicity about her that makes the very idea unthinkable."

Liadan sighed. "You can't know. But Conor could tell you, I think. Wasn't it just so with the lady Oonagh?"

"Not exactly," said Conor heavily. "We never trusted the sorceress, not from moment my father first brought her home as his intended bride. But she had a kind of charm; like a faery Glamour she would put on to convince people she was sweet and well-meaning; to

trap them. My father was ensnared thus, and my brother Diarmid as well. A sorceress has the ability to do this. It will not succeed with one such as myself or Liadan. But with you, son, or with Sean here, it might."

"Impossible," said Johnny flatly. "I may not be a seer, but I know how to read a man's character, or a woman's. Fainne is confused, scared; that's the truth. Underneath that, she's a child, and innocent. What is it you're afraid of?"

"I'll tell you," said his mother in an oddly constrained voice. "Once, long ago, I was presented with a choice. The Fair Folk came and ordered me to remain here in the forest so that my child could be kept safe from the influence of the sorceress. Conor will vouch for that; he gave me the same advice. They came close to saying that the prophecy would not be fulfilled unless I did as they bid me."

"But you disobeyed," said Johnny. "Why?"

"I suppose there seemed no choice really. I could keep you safe, or I could risk your future, and the future of Sevenwaters, the forest and the Islands themselves. Most folk would find what I did hard to understand. But there was Bran. He could not stay with me, here in the forest. To protect my son, I would have had to cast away the man who is the other part of me; to deny him his own child. That I would not do. I defied their orders and set my back to Sevenwaters. I went against Conor's good advice. And it was through my own intervention that Niamh escaped her husband and fled to Ciaran. But for that, Fainne would never have existed. They warned me. The Fair Folk warned me that—that—no, I cannot put this into words. I hoped I would never have to tell you this, Johnny. I have never told your father."

"You're saying Fainne's presence is somehow a threat to me? To my safety?" Johnny was bemused. "How can that be, Mother?"

"The lady Oonagh sought control of Sevenwaters once," Sean said slowly. "She was defeated then by my mother's strength; by human strength. It may be the sorceress tried again, through Ciaran; and now tries once more through his daughter. That was what my mother believed. When Niamh and Ciaran first set eyes on one another, and cast a darkness on this house, she saw that as the lady Oonagh's hand reaching out over us once more. She believed that old evil would continue to make itself known, generation by generation, until the prophecy was fulfilled and all made right again. It could be true. If the lady Oonagh indeed still lives, she must move swiftly to thwart us now, for our venture seems likely to succeed by summer. But if we do not have the child of the prophecy, we are doomed."

"The girl is troubled," said Conor. "She has much of her father in her, with his intelligence and his sensibilities. Were it not for this foolishness with Eamonn and the pressure that places on us, I would prefer to take the time to gain her trust, and convince her she may be a power for good, whatever she may have been taught. Fainne does not seem to me bent on a course of evil."

"Forgive me, Uncle, but I think your own feelings blind you to the truth," Liadan said tightly. "You felt the loss of Ciaran keenly; you never found another with such talents, and the brotherhood dwindles. Be careful you do not trust too much, seeing in Fainne only what you want to see."

Conor's response was immediate. "She saved Sibeal. She is your sister's daughter, and only in her sixteenth year. What would you have me do?"

"Common sense tells me, send her straight back home," Liadan said flatly. "Let Ciaran take responsibility for her, since he chose to raise the child in the knowledge of a sorcerer's arts, and exposed her to his mother's influence."

"I don't think we can do that." Sean spoke with authority. "My niece is frightened; I saw it when I told her we must seek Ciaran's permission if she were to wed Eamonn."

"You what?" His sister's voice was shocked.

"The idea's unpalatable, certainly; but I have learned a little from experience. I could hardly dismiss her request without explanation. She refused to countenance the idea of sending a message to her father. The girl's terrified for some reason; terrified of making contact with him."

"But not frightened of him," put in Conor quietly. "She speaks of him with the greatest loyalty and respect."

"I won't send her back to Kerry," Sean said, in a tone which indicated a decision had been made. "Not against her will. We cannot know what forces are in play here. It's hard for me to believe Fainne might mean any harm to us, but I trust your judgment, sister. I would not wish to jeopardize our venture, nor to risk my family."

Liadan was silent.

"There's only one solution, then." Johnny spoke with cheerful confidence. "We'll take her north with us. Put Eamonn off politely; say his intended bride wishes to wait for her father's approval, and that Ciaran cannot be reached just now. Meanwhile Fainne is whisked out of harm's way, and all's well. There'll be no shortage of enthusiastic suitors for her on Inis Eala, and every one of them younger and likelier than Eamonn of Glencarnagh, if somewhat less well-endowed with worldly goods. She'll forget him soon enough."

"You haven't been listening to a single thing I've told you," Liadan said wearily.

"I always listen, Mother," said Johnny with a smile in his voice. "I'll make a wager if you like. I'll wager I'm big enough and strong enough to stay out of harm's way, sorceress or no sorceress. How's that? Besides, if you think Fainne's confused or frightened, what better place to seek guidance than Inis Eala? If she wants answers, that's where she'll find them, surely."

'The lady Oonagh tried to kill you once."

"I'm still here, aren't I?" said Johnny blithely.

Listening with all the concentration I could summon, I had forgotten for a while that I was moth as well as girl. I moved my feet to go closer, but one foot was caught in something, and I sought to free it, and my legs were suddenly tangled. I flapped my wings, struggling to break away, and the sticky thread tightened around fluttering wing and fragile limb, and could not be broken. In the darkness behind me I sensed a presence, hungry, waiting. The part of me that was still Fainne told me Web, spider. Free yourself now, quickly. The part of me that was moth was seized by a blind terror that held me fast as I beat my wings in frantic, futile effort. The presence came closer, moving like a clever dancer on its delicate cobweb bridge.

"Quick!" said the voice of my feathered guide as I felt my death at my back. "One short, sharp jerk. Quick now."

I pulled to the side, using all the weight of my body, slight as it was, moving my wings as hard as I could while the spider made a sudden dart out toward me, and at last breaking free, spiraling downward out of control with fragments of the sticky fiber still clinging to my legs. My blundering flight took me into the side of the lantern; hot. I fell to the table, landed on my back; felt death close again. The

dogs were barking. I was lifted in a large hand; another hand came over, trapping me between. I struggled, flapping, until I regained my feet. I waited for one final, crushing blow.

"Poor thing," Johnny said. "Doesn't rightly know which way it's going." There was movement, and the hands opened, and I crawled off the warmth of human skin onto the stones by the doorway in the shadows. Having thus released me, my cousin went back to the table, and with my strange insect-sight I thought I saw him lay a reassuring hand on his mother's shoulder. "That's settled, then," he said as I crept out through the crack above the door and flew away down the hallway, high above the lure of the lantern, all the way along until I reached my own door. Quickly down and under. Safe. Rest.

"Now the charm." My Otherworld companion stood by the window; I sensed the small red boots not far from me, felt the threat of their hard heels. I did not want to move for now. It was dark here; I could be still.

"The charm. It is not finished. Speak the words, fire child." Dimly it came to me: the charm, the pattern. Door, fly, door. Listen. Door, fly, door, safe. The charm. Somewhere the words of the counter-spell still dwelt within me, and I sounded them out in the silence of my moth-mind, words that seemed to have no meaning, only power. Around me the room tilted and changed; dim colors appeared, the candlelight gold, the russet of a gown laid across the bed, the green and crimson of a holly wreath Clodagh had tied up over my window to welcome spirits abroad at Mean Geimhridh. The chamber faded and brightened, faded and brightened; the figure of the owl-creature swam before my eyes. I looked down and saw that I was myself again. I looked up, and around me candle and window and owl-being shifted and merged and jumbled all together. Then I was falling, and everything went black.

"I'd never argue with your father on a point of strategy, and I won't with you. The men rely on you to make the right decisions, and so

will I."

The voice made its way into my consciousness as I came slowly awake. I kept my eyes shut. I was in bed, tucked up warmly, and there

was the little crackle of a hearth fire. A lovely smell; some drink with ginger and cloves. I was tired; I was so weary, and the bed felt soft and good. My body ached all over. I thought maybe I would just go right back to sleep . . .

"Besides," it was Johnny's voice this time, "in your heart, you want her to come. I see through that stern demeanor. You must agree Fainne's a lovely girl, sorcerer's daughter or no. Can't you just see her, shining like a little bright lamp in our grim house of men?"

"Her mother certainly drew them like moths to a flame," Liadan said wryly. "And indeed sometimes I think this is Niamh all over again, so stubborn, so prickly, and yet a fine girl and easy to love. You read me well, son. I cherish my four boys; but I have longed for a daughter. Maybe it's true. Maybe what Fainne needs is protection. But there's a terrible risk as well, I know that better than anyone, save Ciaran himself."

"Trust me, Mother. This is right."

"I suppose there's no point in speaking to you of danger, just as there never was with Bran. The concept of self-protection is unknown to the two of you. I hoped he'd become a little more cautious, as a man of near forty with grown sons. But still he must be in the forefront of it all, risking himself as if he'd as many lives as a cat." "Hasn't he?" Johnny chuckled.

"He need not do this himself. There are others, younger men, who would jump at the chance. It sounds—it sounds perilous, Johnny. I fear to lose you both."

"You know the Chief. He calculates his risks. This has been planned to the last detail, and for all his advanced years, he's one of our strongest swimmers, and knows the terrain and the layout of their mooring better than anyone. We'll hand-pick the other men. It's true, there's danger, but there's always danger in winds and tides. And look what's riding on it. You don't sink your enemy's fleet by stealth without exposing yourself to peril."

"There will be so few of you, and such a long way from help. If word of this got out, you'd be vulnerable as chicks in the nest."

"You imagine we haven't made allowance for that? As for intelligence, who'd believe even the Painted Man crazy enough to attempt such a sortie? Nobody sails around the Needle on the eastern side. As for such a swim, it's never been attempted before, the currents being what they are. Such rumors would be instantly discounted as fantasy."

"Your words do little to reassure me," Liadan said. "I am reminded that it was my choice to have you brought up in your father's mold; a warrior and strategist, with no concept of fear. Things might have unfolded very differently had you been raised as a scholar and mystic in the nemetons."

"Do you regret your choice, Mother?"

"Until that moment, when Conor told us the lady Oonagh still lives and threatens us, I did not. I have had years of such happiness; I do not know how Bran and I could have lived our lives without one another. I rejoice in my boys, and in the fine community of Harrow-field and the fellowship of Inis Eala. I am proud that we were able to give heirs not just to my father's estate but to Sevenwaters as well. There are regrets; Niamh's sorrow and suffering remain in my heart, as does Ciaran's estrangement from his family and his calling. For that reason, I longed to welcome their daughter as my own. But now . . . once, long ago, I was told, You want more than you can rightly have. I was told there was blood and sorrow in my choice. Perhaps it is time for me to pay the price for those years of joy. Ask me again, after the summer, if I have regrets."