Son of the Shadows (11 page)

is none of your business, and I won't sully it by laying it bare before a roomful of men! Where's my mother? Why isn't she here?"

Oh, Niamh

. I wrenched my hand from hers and turned away. There was a weight like a cold stone in my heart.

It was Sean who stepped forward, and I had never seen such anger in his eyes or felt in my spirit such an outpouring of rage and grief as I caught from him at that moment. There was no way I could stop him; no way in the world.

"How dare you!" he said, in a voice cold with fury, and he lifted his hand and struck Niamh across her lovely, tear-stained cheek. A red mark appeared instantly on the golden skin. "How dare you ask that?

How dare you expect her to endure this? Have you any idea what your selfish folly will do to her? Don't you know our mother is dying?"

And, incredibly, it was clear that she had not known. All this time, as Sean, and I, and Iubdan, and her brothers had watched Sorcha fail just a little each day, had felt our hearts grow cold as she took one step away from us with each waning of the moon, Niamh, blithe in her own world, had seen nothing at all. She turned as white as parchment, save for the mark on her cheek, and she pressed her lips tightly together.

"Enough, Sean." Iubdan looked like an old man as he stepped out of I the shadows, and the light showed the lines and furrows of grief on his face. He moved to take my brother by the arm and steer him back, away from Niamh who stood frozen in the center of the room. "Enough, Son. A man of Sevenwaters does not raise his hand in anger against a woman. Sit down. Let us all sit
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down." He was a strong man, my father. So strong, at times, he put the rest of us to shame.

"Perhaps you should leave us, Liadan. We can at least spare you this."

"No!" Niamh's voice was shrill with panic. "No! I want her here. I want my sister here!"

Father glanced at me, raised his brows.

"I'll stay," I said, and my voice came out sounding like a stranger's. "I promised." I glanced at Conor where he sat, ashen faced, his mouth set in a line. He had told me not to feel guilt for what must unfold.

But he could not have foreseen this. I scowled at him.

Ton didn't tell me it would be like this

!

I did not know. This, I would have done much to prevent. Still, it unfolds as it must.

"Now," said Father wearily, when we were all seated, Niamh and I on a bench together, for she had grasped my hand again and this time she was not letting go. "We will get no more out of you tonight; I

can see that. I understand also what the answer to my question is, although you did not give it.

But it is clear to me you do not comprehend the import of what you have done. Were this merely a youthful escapade, a giving-in to the madness of Imbolc, a surrendering to the urges of the body, it might be more readily accepted, if not excused. Such an error is common enough and can be overlooked if it occurs but once."

"But—" Niamh began.

"Keep silent, girl." Her mouth snapped shut as Liam spoke, but her eyes were angry. "Your father speaks wisely. You should hear what Conor has to say. He must bear some responsibility for this himself; it is in part his own error of judgment that has brought this ill on us. What have you to tell us, Brother?"

I had never heard my uncle utter a word of criticism against his brothers or sister, not in all the years since my childhood. There was some old hurt here that I could guess at only dimly.

"Indeed," said Conor very quietly, looking direct at Niamh with his serene, gray eyes, those eyes that saw so much and held it all in their depths. "It was I who decided to bring him here; it was I who believed it was time for him to step forth and be seen. Despite the heartbreak he has caused, despite who he is, Ciaran is a fine young man and, until now, a credit to the brotherhood. He is very able. Very apt."

"Some credit," Sean growled. "Give him one chance to show himself in public and the first thing he does is seduce the daughter of die house. Very apt indeed."

"That's enough, Sean." Iubdan was keeping his tone steady at some cost. "Your youth makes you speak rashly. This is as much Niamh's doing as the young man's. He has had a sheltered upbringing and perhaps did not fully understand the significance of his actions."

"Ciaran has been with the brotherhood many years, though he is still but one and twenty."

Conor still looked straight at Niamh, and in the lamplight his long, ascetic face was as pale as his robe. "He has, as I

said, been an exemplary student. Until now. Apt to learn. Willing. Disciplined. Skilled with words, and with other talents he has barely begun to recognize in himself. Niamh, this young man is not for you."

"He told me," said Niamh, her voice cracking. "He told me. He loves me. I love him. There's nothing as important as that. Nothing!" Her words were defiant, but underneath it she was scared. Scared of what

Conor had not said.

"There can be no union between you and this young man." Liam spoke heavily, as if some untold grief weighed on him. "You will be suitably married as soon as possible, and you will leave Sevenwaters.

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None must know of this."

"What!" Niamh flushed scarlet with outrage. "Wed another man after— you can't say that! You can't!

Tell them, Liadan! I will wed no man but Ciaran! What if he is a druid, that need not matter; he can still take a wife, he told me—

"Niamh."

At the sound of Father's voice, her torrent of words came to an abrupt, hiccupping stop.

"You will not wed this man. It is not possible. Perhaps this seems unfair to you. Perhaps it seems to you that we make our decision too quickly, without considering all arguments. It is not so. We cannot explain our reasons to you in full, for, believe me, that would only add to your pain. But Liam is right, Daughter.

This is a match that can never be. And now that you have given in to your desires, you must take a husband as soon as it can be arranged, lest—you must be wed, lest a worse evil befall this house."

He sounded weary beyond belief, and I found his words strange. What my sister had done was foolish and unthinking perhaps, but it hardly seemed to merit such harsh treatment. And my father was ever the most balanced of men, his decisions based on a careful weighing of all relevant matters.

"May I speak?" I ventured with some hesitation.

The response was not encouraging. Sean glared; Liam frowned. Father did not look at me.

Niamh stood frozen, save for the tears rolling down her cheeks.

"What is it, Liadan?" asked Conor. He had a tight guard on his thoughts; I had no idea at all what was in his mind, but I sensed a deep hurt. More secrets.

"I'm not excusing Niamh or the young druid," I said quiet]}. "But do you not judge too harshly?

Ciaran seems a man of favorable aspect, of good manners, clever and honest. He treated my mother with great respect. Would not such a match deserve at least some consideration? Yet you dismiss it outright."

"It cannot be." I knew from Liam's tone that the judgment was final. Further argument was pointless. "As your father says, it is agreed between us that we can only do what we must to salvage the situation. It is a very grave matter; one whose full implications we cannot make known to you. This must go no further than these four walls. It is imperative that it be kept secret."

It seemed to me a darkness had come awake and was present among us in this room. It was there in the red mark that marred my sister's cheek. It was there in Liam's criticism of his wise brother.

It was there in the lines and grooves etched stark on my father's face. It was in Niamh's eyes as she turned on me in fury.

"This is your fault!" she sobbed. "If you'd kept out of it, if you hadn't followed me, snooping after me, none of them would have known. We would have gone away; we could have been together—"

"Hold your tongue, Niamh," said Iubdan, in a voice I had never heard him use before. She hiccupped to a stop, shoulders heaving.

"I want to see Mother," she said in a small voice.

"Not tonight," said Father, now very quiet. "I have told her of this while we awaited Conor's arrival, and she is much distressed. She has agreed to take a sleeping draft and is resting now.

She asked for you, Liadan. I told her you would look in before you retired for the night." He sounded terribly tired.

"I want to see her," Niamh said again, like a small child denied a treat.

"You have forfeited the right to make your own choices." My father's words hung in a cruel silence.

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I never thought I would hear him say such a thing. He spoke out of the depths of his hurt, and my heart bled for him. Niamh stood mute and still.

"We'll speak further of this later," Father went on. "For now, you'll go to your room, and you'll stay there until we decide what's to be done. That decision must be made quickly, and you'll abide by it, Niamh. Go now. No more tonight. And no talk of this, not to anyone, you understand? Liam is right; this must be kept contained here or more harm will be done."

"What of the boy?" asked Liam.

"I will speak to him tonight," Conor replied, and he too sounded weary to exhaustion. "It will be a measure of his worth how he deals with this."

I sat by Mother until she fell into a fitful sleep. We did not speak of what had happened, but I could see she had been weeping. Then I went to my room, where Niamh sat bolt upright on her bed, staring at the wall. There was no point in trying to talk to her. I lay down and closed my eyes, but rest was impossible.

I felt sick and helpless, and for all Conor's wise words, I could not escape a sense that I had somehow betrayed my sister. There was indeed a darkness over our household, as if the shade of a past evil had come to life once more. I did not understand what it was, but I felt its grip on my heart and saw its touch in my sister's pallid, tear-stained face.

"Liadan!"

My eyes came open at Niamh's urgent whisper. She was by the window.

"He's here! Ciaran. He's come for me!"

"What?"

"Look down. Look down to the trees."

It was dark and I could see little, but I heard the muffled hoofbeats as a lone rider came up very fast, too fast, from the margin of the forest. The horse's feet crunched on gravel and then were silent. There was a hammering on the outer door and the flare of a lamp.

"He's here," said my sister again, her voice alive with hope.

"So much for Liam's plan to keep this quiet," I said dryly.

"I must go. I must go down to him—"

"Weren't you listening to anything they said?" I asked her. "You can't go down. You can't see him. This is forbidden. And didn't Father say something about staying in your room?"

"But I must see him! Liadan, you have to help me!" She turned those large, beseeching eyes on me, as so many times before.

"I won't do it, Niamh. Anyway, you're wrong. Your young man is not here to fetch you away in secret. A

lover does not do so by knocking down her father's door. He is here because he has heard the news and does not understand. He is here because he is hurt and angry and wants answers."

Downstairs, the nocturnal visitor had been admitted and the door closed after him. It was silent again.

"I have to know," hissed Niamh, grabbing me by the arms right where she had bruised me before. "You go, Liadan. Go down and listen. Find out what's happening; tell me what they're saying. I must know."

"Niamh—"

"Please. Please, Liadan. You're my sister. I'm not breaking any rules I'll stay here; I promise.

Please."

For all her faults, I loved my sister and had never found it easy to refuse her. Besides, I had to admit that

I, too, wanted to know what was being said behind closed doors. I was not comfortable living in a house of secrets. But I had seen the look on Liam's face and heard the anger in my father's voice. I had no wish to be discovered where I had no business to be.

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"Please, Liadan. You have to help me. You have to."

She went on in this vein for some time, weeping and pleading, her voice growing hoarse with tears. In the end she wore me down.

I threw a shawl over my night robe, and went soft-footed along the hallway until I saw a line of faint light under the door of that room where we had spoken before. There was nobody about.

It seemed Liam had been quick to avoid a public scene.

From inside came the sound of voices, but I could not hear the words. It sounded as if there were four of them there. Liam, curtly decisive; the more measured tones of Conor. My father's voice was deeper and softer. Sean, it seemed, had been excluded. Perhaps they considered him too young and rash for such a council. I stood shivering at the top of the stairs. Now Ciaran's voice; the words indistinct, the tone harsh with grief and outrage I sensed movement within the chamber and sought to retreat. But I was not quick enough. The door slammed open and the young druid strode out, face chalk white, eyes blazing. As the door swung to, I heard Liam saying, "No. Leave him be."

Ciaran halted in his tracks, staring at me as I stood motionless there in my old night robe and woolen

shawl. I thought he hardly saw what was in front of him; his eyes were full of ghosts. But he knew who I

was.

"Here," he said, reaching into the pouch he had at his belt. "Tell her I'm going away. Tell her—give her this." He dropped something small into my hand, and then he was gone without a sound, down the stairs and away into the darkness.

When I was safely back in my room, I gave Niamh the smooth white pebble with a neat hole through it, and I told her what he had said, and I held her in my arms while she wept and wept as if she would never stop. And deep in my spirit, I heard the sound of hoofbeats as Ciaran rode away, farther and farther, as many miles from Sevenwaters as his horse would carry him by sunrise.

Before midsummer my sister wed Fionn, chieftain's son of the Ui Neill, and that same day he took her away with him to Tirconnell. I rode with them as far as the village of Littlefolds. At least, that was the plan. Silent, frozen, impenetrable as she was in her grief, Niamh had made a single request, and that was for my company to see her on her way.