Firebrand (29 page)

She slapped me. Hard. Then she turned, taking her time, and slapped Conal.

I said nothing; neither did he. I did not let my eyes drop from hers, and I know he didn’t either. To lose our tempers would be to lose face, and quite possibly our lives. I hoped he knew it, because despite his seniority and his dignity and his quiet acceptance, I knew Conal was far, far angrier than I was.

She let us kneel there longer still. I thought the rock would grate right through to my kneecaps, and still we were surrounded by mocking silence. Oh, she was revelling in this. And then, quite unexpectedly, she laughed, all benevolence again. She had a lovely laugh.

‘Look, Lilith. Your boy has become a man.’

My mother smirked. I looked at her, and then back
at Kate, and I felt a shocking surge of fierce desire. Kate laughed again with delight.

‘A man!’ she murmured. ‘And a fine fighter, I hear. Submission doesn’t suit you, Murlainn.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘It doesn’t.’

Conal shot me a dark look, but if I had to stay on my knees much longer I was going to kill someone. I could still taste Kate’s skin on my lips. It was as if all my own skin had been peeled off; I had never felt so naked and vulnerable and it made me ache to blind every man watching.

‘I think you boys could be trouble,’ smiled Kate. ‘Trouble-makers, too.’

‘No, Kate,’ said Conal.

‘Come, come. I’m not angry. After all I
like
trouble. It can be…fun. Well, now.’ Lightly she clapped her hands. ‘You broke your exile, Cù Chaorach, and since your brother chose to share it, he has broken exile too. What shall I do with you?’

We didn’t answer. I think it was a rhetorical question.

‘You both broke your exile, but I think you learned a lot. I like you both, and I need good fighters, and I do not want to have to exile you again. Do you think you learned humility, Cù Chaorach? Did the full-mortals teach it to you?’

‘Yes, Kate.’ He said it clear and without shame, and he kept his eyes on hers.

‘That’s what I heard.’ Placing a finger thoughtfully against her cheek, she watched his face, and I watched hers. She did not look as cool and in control as she’d have liked, and she knew it. So did I, so did we all.
Kate did not know quite what to make of his attitude. I was afraid for him, then.

‘I heard all that they did to you,’ she said, failing to use his name as she addressed him. It was a calculated insult. ‘I’ve no doubt you learned to do without your dignity.’

‘Yes, Kate.’

‘You screamed, I dare say? You begged? You confessed to lies to make them stop?’

‘Yes, Kate.’ His face didn’t flicker.

She’d have liked to be there. You could tell. ‘Your pride was worth nothing. Am I right?’

‘Yes, Kate.’

‘And only luck and a full-mortal let you escape with your life,’ she said derisively.

‘Yes, Kate.’

She smiled. Gods, she was livid. I loved him more than ever.

‘Here’s my offer, Cù Chaorach. Serve me for a year.’

I took a breath. He didn’t react: not so much as a twitch of his eyelid.

‘Be my captain for a year. That’s not long, is it? I want you, and your brother, and ten of your best fighters. That will prove your loyalty. I will invalidate your exile and this unpleasantness will be forgotten.’

It was too good a deal. We both knew it.

‘And who captains my dun?’

Kate looked winsome. ‘Is it your dun? Certainly it will be again, if you do as I ask.’

He ignored that; she had no right to say it. ‘Who takes care of my dun in my absence?’

‘Calman Ruadh.’

Utter silence. Even I was dumbstruck. Let me put it this way: his name was a great joke of nature. They called him the Red Dove to qualify it, because he’d been bathed in blood so often it must have soaked into his skin.

‘Your sense of humour does you credit, Kate,’ said Conal through his teeth. ‘Calman Ruadh is Alasdair Kilrevin’s lieutenant.’

‘Was,’ she corrected him sweetly. ‘Alasdair Kilrevin is dead.’

I felt astonishment along with a gut-wrenching disappointment. That work had been Conal’s, and mine, and someone had taken it from us without formal claim. Pure bad manners.

Kate’s gaze and her smile slanted towards me. ‘Don’t worry, Murlainn. His death appears to have been some-what…supernatural. He and his men were burned to a crisp. They were found in a field, after a night’s drinking and gambling. It seems something, ah…overtook them. There’s talk of the Devil. There’s talk of an ill-advised bet with…let’s say, extraordinarily high stakes.’ She examined a polished fingernail, frowning as she pushed back a cuticle. ‘Calman Ruadh, by great good fortune, was not with them.’

Conal muttered something inaudible.

‘He has been on his knees, Cù Chaorach, just like you, and just as you will be, he is forgiven.’

‘Kilrevin was on his knees to you more than once,’ said Conal savagely. ‘It never stopped him picking up his sword again.’

‘Now is really not a good time to make that point.’ Her smile was quick and catlike. ‘Calman Ruadh is my trusted ally and your dun will be secure in his hands. No living person would protect it as well as Calman will. You notice I say
will
, not
would
. I am not offering you options, Cù Chaorach. This, or I return you to the care of the full-mortals where they will no doubt finish what they started. And,’ she raised a finger to stop his interruption, ‘I burn your dun and hang its inhabitants.’ Tutting, she wagged the finger in his face. ‘I’ve really been
very
cross with you. Now, what do you say?’

Elegantly twisting her hand, she presented the back of it to him a second time.

He looked to his left, and his right, meeting the eyes of his clann. They knew as well as he did: it was no choice at all. After perhaps a minute, he took her hand again as if he was taking hold of a snake. He pressed it once more to his forehead, and kissed it.

‘How I wish,’ she said softly, ‘your mother could see this moment. It’s not like her to run, is it? But perhaps she couldn’t bear the shame.’

She jerked her hand away before Conal could fling it.

This time she didn’t even bother to slap him. One of her captains brought forward her horse and helped her mount, and she rode away without a backward glance. The creature was milk-white, but for its soft black muzzle and its dove-grey tail. Bells and ribbons and crystals were woven into its silky mane, its hooves were embellished with silver, and its bridle was braided green silk. The tinkling of the elaborate harness was the only sound as she rode out; it was all that broke the silence
of dread and awe, and her guard captain gave Conal the most contemptuous stare I’d ever seen anyone dare to give him. I didn’t want to see him look at my Captain like that, so I glanced towards the sky, and that’s when I saw the raven sitting silent and still on the grey north parapet, watching us all.

Swiftly I looked back at my queen on her jewelled horse, until the gates swung shut behind her.

‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph,’ I barked. ‘See that poor pony? Does the woman believe her own frigging myth?’

Conal exploded with muffled laughter at my side, and that was the cue for nervous hilarity from our own clann and shocked stares from what remained of Kate’s. The silence and the awe were shattered. I was pleased with myself as I heard first grumblings and then ever more indignant raised voices of anti-monarchist complaint.

‘So where did you pick that up?’ said Conal, throwing an arm round my shoulder.

‘Ah, some old weaver who came through the clachan last year. It’s got a ring to it, you think?’

‘And then some.’ He was grinning. ‘I hope to gods she didn’t hear it, but I doubt you’re that lucky.’

His laughter faded and he gaped past me, but the smile that split his face was one of adoration. ‘Reultan!’

I turned with a sinking heart; I don’t know why. The woman striding towards him was one of the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, and she wore embroidered linen, silk trews, fine black leather boots and an elaborate silk coat like the ones Leonora favoured. Her hair
was raven-black and straight as a fall of water. Her eyes were blue like sheet-ice on a cloudless day and they brimmed with tears that made them glitter.

‘Cù Chaorach, you fool.’ The woman put her arms around him and pressed her face to his, closing her eyes as he embraced her. ‘Why did you have to antagonise her?’

He shrugged and smiled, tightening his arms round her.

‘You forced her into it. You nearly died! Conal, you’re an idiot. Please, please don’t make her do it again.’

I gasped with fury. ‘
Make her?
She did it because she wanted to. He didn’t exile himself!’

Her eyes opened, focusing on me, hardening and cooling like molten metal thrust into water.

‘So. This is the brother, is it?’

Conal released her, but he kept an affectionate arm around her. ‘This is Seth, yes.’

I could feel the contempt coming off her like an ice-mist. She was the archetypal courtier: arrogant, dismissive, frighteningly certain of her place in the world. I think I did remember her, from my childhood days in Kate’s caverns, but to be honest I could have been mistaken. She and all her kind were interchangeable. ‘Tell me she’s not my sister.’

‘I’ll tell you myself,’ said Reultan. ‘I’m not your sister, thank the gods.’

‘There.’ Conal rolled his eyes. ‘You’re not related; you don’t have to like each other. Just get on, won’t you?’

Some chance. Reultan and I loathed one another on sight and for our entire lives, but gods, we always understood one another. Perhaps that was the problem.

Still, that first time we met, she fascinated me and I fascinated her, on a purely scientific level. In some ways we were alike, but still it felt like the collision of alien species. Her upper lip curled. I took a deliberate, insulting step away from her. So I was confused when her eyes lit up, warmed with joy.

I was knocked off balance as Eili flung herself past me into Reultan’s arms and the two women embraced. ‘Reultan!’ whooped Eili.

I could tell I was going to grow sick of that name.

‘
Eilid!
’ Her eyes widened with delight. ‘Little Eilid! Is that you?’

‘Yes, believe it or not she grew up,’ I muttered, and Conal kicked my ankle.

‘They all call me Eili,’ said Eili. ‘For short.’

‘I like it. Conal, where is our mother?’

I admired the way she said
our
, subtle, but stressed just enough to exclude me.

‘Gone to the soothsayer. Asking an idiot charlatan how to find some bloody talisman that doesn’t exist. A
Stone
, if you please. She’s been gone for a month.’

‘Don’t be so disrespectful, Conal. The
prophet
is an oracle and a reliable one.’

‘The prophet is fooling herself,’ laughed Conal. ‘And everyone else.’

‘So,’ said Reultan dryly. ‘You’re saying Leonora can be fooled? I’d like to see you say it to her face.’

Conal shrugged, defeated but grinning.

‘She left Faramach.’ Reultan nodded at the parapet. ‘To keep an eye on you?’

‘Who knows what that bird’s for?’ He made a dismissive gesture. Behind his back, I gave it the finger, but it didn’t react. Something struck me as I gazed into its still obsidian eyes.

I said, ‘Kate didn’t dare turn up till Leonora was off the scene.’

The raven flapped down to the inner wall of the tannery, stretched its massive wings and gave a harsh laugh.

‘Seth’s right,’ said Eili.

‘I know he is.’ Conal looked thoughtful.

Reultan looked as if she wanted to slap me. I could see from the tension in her jaw that her teeth were tightly clenched. Conal winked at me and squeezed her arm.

‘It’ll be good to see more of you, Reultan. Even in the circumstances. You won’t ignore me, will you? Pretend you don’t know me?’

‘Don’t be a bigger fool than you already are,’ she said crisply. ‘Who will you take with you? Ten, isn’t it?’

‘Eight,’ said Eili. ‘Obviously Sionnach and I are going with him.’

‘With
us
,’ I said resentfully.

‘Yes, yes.’

‘So who?’ said Reultan.

The answer was: ten of his best fighters. That was what Kate had asked for, and that was what she had to be given. Carraig and Righil, his lieutenants. Sionnach and Eili. Orach. Feorag. He managed to negotiate to keep Raineach in the dun, but one of her sons had to come with us. Eorna was left behind; his lover Caolas rode out with us with unashamed tears flowing down her face. The skilled bowmen Luthais and Raonall were bound lovers, and inseparable, and they were the last two.

Kate had to wait for me, and she was not pleased, but I would not give in, and she had to be a little careful now. She had pushed her humiliation of us far enough, and if she went too much further she would be in danger of losing sympathy even among her own clann. Kate was not a tyrant, or if she was, she was a very clever one and she knew the power of consent. Her legitimacy sprang from consent and she ruled by it; it was just that she knew how to gain consent for the cruellest actions by sweet reasonableness in others. And subjects who love will excuse a great deal, and a great many of Kate’s subjects loved her to the point of irrationality.

I would not leave the dun till Grian said Catriona could travel. Her wound was not life-threatening, but it was a serious one, and she was already weakened when she took it, and full-mortals are prone to infection. Nor would I leave her alone; my clann might feed
and water and shelter her but they would not befriend her, and I wouldn’t inflict twelve months of solitary misery on her. I gave her the choice and she chose to come with me, as I knew she would.

So we rode to Kate’s fortress together a month after the others, taking Branndair, but letting the blue roan loose at the gates of the underground fortress. Kate ignored Catriona, but she summoned me to stand in front of her—she did not risk asking me to kneel—and in front of her smirking courtiers and her dead-eyed captains and my own friends, she told me I would stay an extra month to serve her when my brother and my comrades had gone home. I shrugged, then bowed my head, to signal that I was at her command, but I didn’t have to care about it.