Taminy (52 page)

The
observation caused the room to erupt again, and Cadder used the frenzy to bring
himself closer to Taminy. Before Bevol could interfere, the Cleirach grasped
her arm and attempted to drag her from the box. “Look at her face! Look at it!
There is no mark there! There is no Kiss! She lies! She lies!”

In
the roar and rage of the crowd, Cadder’s snarls were lost. He shook Taminy
harder, setting off a frenzy of movement among her nearby supporters. But
frenzy exploded into chaos when, from the girl’s forehead, issued a flash of
light—pale, emerald and too bright to look upon. Cadder shrieked and stumbled
backward to the floor, rubbing his eyes frantically. The crowd cared little for
him. Their eyes were on Taminy, who stood on her dais, the stellate mark on her
brow shedding its Eibhilin gleam over all.

The
chaos collapsed into a tingling, awful hush. No voice spoke; no body moved to
creak a bench, scuff a heel, rustle a cloak. All watched as the light pulsed
and dimmed but did not vanish. No newly chosen Osraed had ever had a Kiss so
bright.

Eadmund
looked at it with longing.

Bevol
spoke. “It seems that Minister Cadder is wrong. There is no detail in which
Taminy is lacking, no sign she cannot show you.”

“Lies!”
Cadder lifted himself from the floor, blinking tears from his light-scalded
eyes. “I will not believe her to be divine!”

Bevol
shook his head, then addressed the assemblage. “What sign would you like to see
next, before deciding about Taminy-Osmaer? She could perform any task if it
would make you believe her Tell. But what good does it do? One test after
another she passes; one sign after another she shows, and still you balk. Show
us this, show us that! And when you are shown, you cavil and ask to be shown
something more. These shows of miracles are useless. If they are proof, they
are proof only to those whose lives they touch. Do not test Taminy-Osmaer with
miracles and shows of power. Do not question her ability to show you greater
and greater marvels. Test her spirit. Question her purpose. That, venerable
Pillars, is your test.” He gave the Cyne curt bow and left the Hall through the
western doors.

Colfre
came shakily to his feet. “Well,” he said. “Well ...We have seen ... great
wonders. But-but Osraed Bevol is correct. You,” he raised his eyes to the
galleries, “must compose your questions. Whatever questions you deem fitting to
ask ... this young woman.” He turned to his Durweard then. “Daimhin, kindly
dismiss the Assembly.” He afforded Taminy one bemused glance before retiring
from the throne.

oOo

“I
thought you said she understood.” Colfre did not wait for his Durweard to close
the door to the salon.

“She
said she understood.” Feich’s demeanor was cool and collected which thoroughly
irritated his Cyne. “I believe she did understand.”

“And
merely forgot?”

Feich
shook his head. “My lord, you saw what happened. She was silent until Bevol
encouraged her. And she didn’t ... display that ... sign until Cadder pressed
her.”

“Pressed
her! The man attacked her! In my presence! Fanatical idiot.” The Cyne paused to
chew his lip. “It could work out for the best, though. Ealad-hach made the
Osraed look ludicrous and Bevol, with his insulting sermonizing, simply added
to that impression.”

“Sire,
I think you overlook an important point. We were not in control of that
situation.” He gestured in the general direction of the Assembly Hall.

The
Cyne gazed at him, slow light dawning. “Bevol.”

“Yes,
Bevol. He played the Hall—and the crowd—like an expert hawker.”

“But
why? Is it personal power he seeks, or is he convinced he’s doing the Meri’s
will?”

“Knowing
his history, I should say the latter. Does it matter?”

Colfre
clicked his tongue. “Now, Daimhin, you surprise me. Of course it matters. If
Bevol is seeking personal gain, he can be bought or flattered into collusion
with us. It’s clear he has little personal regard for his institution. If he’s
doing the will of the Meri—or believes he is—he will not be dissuaded.”

“Nor,
my lord, will the girl be dissuaded from doing his will.”

“You
believe he controls her to that degree?”

“Isn’t
it obvious? We will not be able to control her as long as he does. I tell you,
I had convinced her not to speak.”

Colfre
nodded. Osraed Bevol was, indeed, becoming a monumental nuisance. “What are we
to do, then? Bevol is not likely to just go away and leave her to her own
devices ... or, should I say, to ours.”

Daimhin
twitched like a man who has just dreamed himself falling. “No. No, I suppose
not.”

They
were interrupted then, by a courier who told them that the Hall was ready to
reconvene. Colfre tried to ready himself for what that session might bring, but
there was no way he could have been ready for the complete change in the
demeanor of the Hall’s members. Except for some indeterminate grumbling, they
behaved most civilly toward Taminy as they asked her a battery of questions
which bored their Cyne almost to tears.

What
was the substance of the Meri? The answer: A twin spirit and a body of Eibhilin
Light. Was she spiritual or material? She was spiritual, her vessel was
material. Together, they existed in a state that was both and neither.

Why
did She communicate through these so-called vessels? Men could not withstand
the glory of Her Presence; Her beauty was too great to be borne. One soul in a
generation could contain her, a female soul. That could change, Taminy added.

Why
was she here? To remind the Osraed of their purpose and to establish a female
order of Osraed; to purify the Osraed institution.

Why
was that necessary? (Here, Colfre sat up and took note.)

Decay,
she said. The Osraed had become distracted. It was time for cleansing, time for
reawakening, time for a Cusp and a New Covenant.

A
New Covenant. Colfre liked the sound of that. He tried the words against his
own impending proposal and liked it even more. His mind began to turn over the
possibilities and the last few pieces of an idea fell into place.

He
smiled. A New Covenant. He liked the sound of that very much.

oOo

In
the jostle of people funneling from the Hall’s public gallery, Aine somehow got
separated from the others. Stretching and turning in the press of bodies, she
struggled to see them, but found that sense inadequate to the task.

She
was being pushed along on a slow current toward a door to the outer ward when
someone stumbled against her. The touch sent a shimmer of awareness through
her—a thrill of familiarity. She turned, expecting to see a friend and found
herself gazing, instead, into the startled eyes of a stranger. The young woman
stammered an apology and, hugging the child she carried to her shoulder, moved
away into the crowd.

In
due time, Aine was deposited in the outer ward and glanced around, seeking her
companions. She found them, at last, standing in a tense knot beside a vintner’s
shop, and made her way over, dodging other members of the audience too deep in
their discussions to care where they stepped.

“Aine!”
Iseabal saw her and held out eager hands. “We feared we’d lost you completely.”

Aine
took the other girl’s hands gratefully. “You’ll never be half so lucky as that.”

“I’ve
never seen such a crowd,” said Mam Lusach, checking Aine over as if a piece of
her might be missing. “It was like being caught up in a river current.”

“Or
a herd of sheep,” Aine observed, then added, “Someone touched me.”

Phelan
laughed. “Well, I should think, in all that-”

“No,
I mean, I felt someone touch me. Oh, stop laughing—you don’t understand!” She
looked to Osraed Saxan for some serious attention and got it. “It was so queer,
Osraed. All these people were pressed in about me and I felt this ... this Touch.
As if one of you was there beside me. I thought it was one of you, but when I-”

She
stopped. There it was again, like the shivers she got from climbing out of cold
water into the warm sun. It raised goose-flesh all over her.

She
turned and saw the same woman standing across the shop-lined aisle and holding
the hand of the little boy she’d been carrying earlier. She was clearly
startled to have a group of strangers suddenly staring at her and began a
shuffling retreat. She’d taken no more than two steps, though, when the child
began to resist. She paused to listen to his chatter, shook her head, glanced
at Aine, then, with a look of fearful resolve, allowed the little boy to lead
her to where the others stood watching.

The
child spoke first. “Are you friends of the Lady Taminy?”

Aine
was too startled to reply.

The
Osraed Saxan was not. “Yes, we are. We’re from Nairne and we’ve come here to be
close to her.”

The
boy craned his neck to look up at his mother. “You see, Mama, we weren’t being
silly, after all. They’re friends, too.”

“You
know Taminy?” asked Iseabal.

The
woman nodded, smiling diffidently. “She healed my boy, Losgann. And she ... she
gave me this.” The woman opened her left hand, exposing the palm. Drawn there,
as if in faintly glowing ink, was a star-shaped rune.

Aine
gasped and heard the sound ripple through the group around her. She displayed
her own palm, as did Iseabal and Wyvis, Rennie and Phelan, Orna and even Mam
Lusach.

“My
dear God,” murmured Osraed Saxan and stared into his own palm. “I didn’t ... I
didn’t realize ...” He looked at their new acquaintance. “Mistress, we’ve heard
rumor that Taminy has been working miracles in Creiddylad all the week. Is that
so?”

“Oh,
aye.” The woman nodded, her little boy echoing the movement.

“Then
there must be ...Are there others ... like us?” He indicated the star-decked
palms outstretched between them.

“Oh,
aye,” was the answer. “As many as her miracles, I reckon. Would you like to
meet them?”

Saxan
smiled. “Mistress, there is nothing we’d like better.”

oOo

Daimhin
Feich let himself into the Privy Council’s chambers and paused by the door,
looking perplexed. “Gentlemen, I’m surprised to find you here. Can you be
finished with your deliberations so soon?”

The
two men there shifted guiltily before Minister Cadder said, “No, Durweard, but
nearly so. We are here because the deliberations have taken an unhappy turn.”
There was no hint of respect in the man’s voice.

Feich
ignored that and, smiling, spread his elegant hands. “Then wouldn’t your peers
benefit from your opinions?”

“Our
peers are asses,” replied Cadder and drew a censuring shush! from his
companion, Feanag.

“And
what has caused this sorry metamorphosis?”

“Need
you ask, sir? It’s that damned girl. She seduces them, as she has seduced your
lord ... and yourself, it would seem.”

Now,
Feanag’s thin lips disappeared completely and Feich laughed. “Oh, she is a
mighty seductress, that one, I agree. The beauty of her face, the calm, sweet,
reasonable music of her voice. And you’re right—Colfre is quite smitten.”

Cadder
narrowed his eyes, studying the Cyne’s Durweard as he might an oozing sore. “And
you are not?” No belief there, only ridicule.

Feich
shook his handsome head. “I’m a dense individual, Minister Cadder. Dense and
suspicious. Taminy-a-Cuinn wastes her efforts on me. But the Cyne—that’s
another matter.”

Cadder
came several paces nearer the younger man, still examining him. “You sound so
casual—so unconcerned. Have you no reaction to her miracles?”

“I
suppose I am amazed by them—when they first occur.”

“And
do believe their source to be divine?”

Feich
smiled. “No.”

“Then
have you no fear for the soul of your Cyne?”

“I
can’t say that I fear for his soul, Minister. I’m not certain he possesses one.
Why should I waste my fear?” He ignored Feanag’s hiss of disbelief and
continued. “I do, however, fear for his life and his throne and his people.
Yes, I do fear for Colfre. I don’t like to see him manipulated by a shrewd
magician.”

“A
magician? Is that what you think of Taminy-a-Cuinn?”

Cadder’s
scorn was palpable. “Believe me, what she did with the Osmaer Crystal was no
mere magic.”

“Ah,
but I didn’t see that. I have only a second-hand tell. I never believe hearsay.
Besides, I was not thinking of her so much as that peculiar Osraed of hers.”

“Bevol?”

“Aye,
Bevol. Now, there’s a grand manipulator.”

Cadder
moved even closer to Feich, his body and face speaking the language of
conspiracy. “You disliked what you saw of him today in the Hall?”

“I
did. Heartily. But I can hardly disregard the desires of my Cyne and pursue my
own opinions. I can advise Colfre; I cannot command him.”

“And
if you could, would you ... put and end to this manipulation of the throne?”

Feich
nodded, his face completely sober. “Most assuredly.”

Cadder
studied that face for a moment then glanced at his tight-lipped peer. “Then,
you would be pleased to see the Wicke destroyed?”

Feich
blinked. “The Wicke? Why destroy her?” His emphasis fell gently on the last
word.

“She’s
evil. She’s the manipulator of our Cyne, whom you-”

Feich
was laughing. “Open your eyes, Cleirach. It isn’t Taminy who is evil. It isn’t
Taminy who manipulates. I doubt she even authors those so-called miracles that
so impress our unlettered brethren. She’s a toy, gentlemen. As Colfre is a toy.
As the Cwen and the Riagan and, yes, your dear Abbod are toys.” He held up a
finger. “The player, gentlemen—the player is Bevol.” Feich paused, glancing
from one Cleirach to the other, then said, “I must be going. This is hardly the
time for frivolous conversation. I adjure you, Ministers, do return to your
Pillars and attempt to sway them to the right way. We tread a dangerous path.”