The Cursed Towers (41 page)

Maya reached the area below the dais and inclined her head. "It is a pleasure indeed to meet ye again," she said. "I trust ye have kept well?"

"Indeed I have," Margrit replied. "Both well and amused. It has been an interesting few years since we last met."

"Interesting is no' quite the word I would have chosen," Maya replied, only the flaring of her nostrils betraying her anger. "It is true a great deal has happened."

"Aye, who would have thought the rebels would have triumphed and the Coven o' Witches be restored?" the banprionnsa said suavely. "Your husband dead, your daughter dispossessed and ye an outlaw and fugitive."

"Hardly," Maya replied. "There are many who resent the heel o' the Pretender and wish to restore my rule. It is only a matter o' time."

"The young MacCuinn has shown himself more able than one would have suspected," Margrit said. "The victories o' Blairgowrie and Dun Eidean were cleverly done and my reconnaissance staff tell me supporters have flocked to his flag ever since."

"Fair-weather friends," Maya said lightly. "They will go wherever they think their best interests lie. Once my daughter wins back her throne, they will pledge their support to us once again." Margrit regarded her rings. "Happen that is true," she replied. "But are they the sort o' friends one would wish to have?"

"Och, there are many whose support o' me and my daughter has no' wavered." Maya grew tired of standing before Margrit's throne and sat gracefully on one of the chairs set against the wall. "But I am sure your spies have told ye that as well."

"Spies is a harsh word," Margrit replied, smiling.

Maya felt herself tensing, and smiled sweetly in response. "My pardon. Your reconnaissance staff." For a moment their gazes locked, then Margrit glanced away, saying affably, "But I forget my manners. Ye must be weary indeed after your journey. Let me offer ye some refreshment and a room in which ye may rest, and then perhaps ye shall tell me why ye have done me the honor o' this unexpected—but most delightful—visit."

"Why, I have come to be with my daughter, o' course," Maya replied urbanely. "I knew she would no' be o' much use to ye without my endorsement and support, and so once
my
reconnaissance staff informed me she had come under your protection, I naturally came to join her. I have no need to enquire after her health, I am sure, knowing what a caring and nurturing mother ye are yourself." Margrit's smile deepened, dimples flashing in her cheeks. "Your reconnaissance staff are efficient indeed, my dear. Ye must tell me how ye found such capable servants. Foolishly I had thought what went on within the mists o' Arran was impenetrable to those o' the outside world. I see I am no' so well protected as I thought."

Maya found fear was creeping down her spine like a trickle of icy water. Margrit's smile was as frightening as her Fairgean father's angriest bellow. She drew herself up, staring at the banprionnsa haughtily. "I am sorry if ye think my interest invasive," she said coolly. "The safety and wellbeing o' my daughter, the Banrigh o' all 0' Eileanan and the Far Islands, is naturally my greatest concern."

"Naturally," Margrit replied silkily, once again tapping her long fingernails slowly against the gilded wood of her throne. "And naturally ye will wish to see her." She rose and descended from the throne, her black velvet skirts trailing behind her. "Come, my dear. I ken ye must be longing to be reunited with the wee lassie, so many months it has been since ye last embraced her."

There was such subtle mockery in her tone that Maya flushed and clenched her fingers together. She followed the banprionnsa out of the throne-room and up the stairs, Margrit suavely describing the history of many of the treasures displayed on the walls.

Maya murmured politely in response and then nodded at the chamberlain preceding them up the stairs.

"Tell me, my lady, how is it that ye have one o' the horned mountains faeries as your servant? Are they no' a wild, independent people? What is one doing here in the depths o' the marshes?" Margrit frowned in pleasurable remembrance. "I saved his life and under the Khan'cohbans' strict code o'

honor that means he is in debt to me and must serve me as I demand, for as long as I demand. It was quite a few years ago, but I refuse to release him from his
geas
for indeed he is one o' the best servants I have ever had, fearless, intelligent and utterly faithful."

"But how did ye come to save his life?"

"I was traveling to Tirsoilleir in my swan-carriage when we were caught in a freakish hurricane. The swans could not fly against such a strong wind and so I managed to surround us with the calm eye o' the storm. Storm-magic is no' my strength though, so we had to travel with the wind. We were carried high into the mountains and thrown at last onto a high field o' snow. My swans were exhausted and some were injured and I myself was worn out with controlling such a tremendous, elemental force.

"We rested there until our strength returned, and I became aware of birds o' prey circling a high plateau o' rock. With nothing better to do while I waited for my swans to recover, I climbed the ridge and found Khan'tir-ell there, naked and staked out to die. He had killed someone in a fit o' jealousy over some lover and they had condemned him to death. That is how they execute their criminals on the Spine o' the World. Barbaric, is it no'? Somehow he had survived the bitter cold, though I think the wildness o' the storm must have kept the wolves and snow lions away long enough for me to find him. I knew o' the fighting skills o' the mountain faeries because o' that savage young warrior that was at the Tower o' Two Moons for a while, do ye remember?"

Maya nodded and the banprionnsa continued, "So I freed him and bound him to me with his ridiculous code o' honor and he has served me ever since. He has been useful indeed and has told me much about the lost land o' Thiethan that had been forgotten."

At last they reached the nursery wing of the palace, and Maya could hear a child's soft babbling. She tensed in anticipation, wondering how her daughter had changed since she had last seen her. She knew there was no chance Bronwen would recognize her, for the little girl had been only a month old when Maya had fled the Pool of Two Moons, and she was now almost two years old. Margrit opened the door and ushered Maya through. Within was a long room furnished with a cot all hung with cream and gold satin, delicate gilded cupboards and chests, and a tall rocking horse with wild eyes and a luxurious mane and tail. Sitting on the floor playing with a china doll was a little girl with dark ringlets hanging to her neck. A white curl at the front was tied back with a pink bow that matched her flounced dress.

She looked up as the door opened, and her chubby face puckered up at the sight of Margrit's black dress. She began to wail and Margrit smiled. The little bogfaery sitting nearby leapt up and hurried to soothe the little girl, her wrinkled face anxious. The child was inconsolable, however, and Margrit's dimples deepened. "If ye canna control the lassie, I may have to find another nursemaid," she said gently, and the bogfaery whimpered a little, rocking the little girl in her furry arms. Maya came forward and bent to take the little girl from the bogfaery's arms. The nursemaid clutched the baby closer, and Maya smiled and said reassuringly, "Come, I mean the lassie no harm. She is my daughter and cruel circumstances have kept us apart for many long months." Reluctantly the bogfaery allowed her to lift the little girl up. Maya cuddled the child close, crooning a lullaby so she quietened. Maya sat down in one of the dainty gilded chairs and held the little girl on her lap so she could examine her. The full bottom lip still trembled but the blue eyes stared back at her with interest. Maya frowned and lifted the curls from the baby's neck. Her frown deepened, her nostrils flaring in barely controlled rage. "What trickery is this!" she cried. "This is no' my daughter!" Margrit's whole body stiffened. "What did ye say?"

"This is no' my daughter!" Maya cried in bitter disappointment. "Ye think to deceive me? What have ye done with Bronwen?"

Margrit came swiftly across the room. "Ye think to cheat me?" she hissed. "Do no' forget ye are in the heart o' the Murkmyre. Many enter the marshes o' Arran and never leave again. Who will ken if ye are one o' them?"

"Ye threaten me?" Maya cried imperiously, rising to her feet and holding the child out at arm's length. "Do ye forget who I am! The winged
uile-bheist
may have seized the throne for now, but I am still Regent and ruler o' this land till my daughter comes o' age."

"No' in Arran," Margrit smiled. "We have never recognized the right o' the MacCuinn to rule, and certainly do no' recognize ye or your daughter. We gave sanctuary to your Grand-Seeker only because it served our purposes to have the so-called NicCuinn under our hand. Ye are all here at my forbearance and I shall no' suffer any double-dealing."

"If there is any double-dealing here, it is no' me that is doing it!" Maya cried. "What have ye done with my daughter?"

Margrit stared at her consideringly. "Are ye telling the truth when ye say this is no' your daughter? I hope so, for your sake, for I will no' forgive such a falsehood easily."

"Do ye think I do no' ken my own daughter?"

"Well, ye have no' seen her for nigh on two years and children change a great deal in that time. How can ye be sure she is no' yours? She has the white lock, as she should if she were a true NicCuinn." Maya laughed. "Bring me a tub o' salt water and I shall prove it to ye." Margrit stared at her, speculation in her eyes, then nodded brusquely. She snapped her fingers and the bog-faery went scurrying from the room. "Also, tell our other guest to attend us here," she called after the little faery. "If there is deceit and double-dealing here, I think it must be Renshaw who has dealt it." In the long minutes it took for the bogfaeries to return with a hipbath, a bag of sea salt and jugs of water, neither woman spoke. Maya had dropped the little girl back on to the floor, and she sat clutching her doll and sucking her thumb, the long white curl dangling down the left side of her face. Margrit sat and regarded her rings, smiling equably, and Maya endeavored to match her poise, even though her pulse was racing.

Once the bath was set up and filled with warm, salty water, Maya nodded to the bogfaery. Hurriedly the nursemaid undressed the little girl and lowered her into the bath. She laughed and kicked her chubby legs, splashing water across the floor.

"Well?" Margrit said. "What does this prove?"

"I have heard ye called the mistress o' illusions," Maya replied. "Surely your eyes have pierced my glamourie and seen me for what I am?"

Margrit frowned in pleasure. "True," she admitted. "Ye never deceived me, though your first spell o'

illusion was powerful indeed. This glamourie ye wear now is naught but a frail disguise, so much so that I wondered why ye bothered to wear it."

Trying not to show her chagrin, Maya let the illusion drop away from her. "Force o' habit," she replied, shrugging her shoulders. "It does no' suit my purpose to let all ken I am descended from the Fairgean king."

Margrit tapped her teeth with one long, purple nail. "So the rumors are true," she said. "Ye are a Fairge. I wondered when I saw the webs between your fingers, which ye so feebly tried to hide from my eyes. I could no' be sure though. They say many o' those born in Carraig have webbed fingers and toes like a frog, and ye seemed human otherwise."

Maya undid the high collar of her dress so that Margrit could see her gills. The banprionnsa's eyes widened slightly, and a small frown flitted across her face. "So all your witch-hunts and faery persecutions were on behalf o' the Fairgean. I often wondered what was behind them, though I assumed ye and I shared a lust for power." Her frown of enjoyment deepened. "A most subtle and devious plan, though surprised I am indeed to find ye a mere pawn in your father's schemes."

"I act on my own behalf," Maya said coldly.

"O' course," Margrit replied urbanely. "Do we no' all? But tell me, how is it ye managed to disguise your true self for so long? I never heard that casting an illusion was one o' the Fairgean's Talents? And even with clear-seeing I could no' be sure. Ye still look very human to me."

"My mother was human, and I inherited much from her," she explained. "I look more human than Fairgean, as does my daughter. She is still one quarter Fairgean, though. She was born with fins and gills like any Fairgean babe, and should have transformed into her seashape as soon as she was lowered into the water. I have seen my daughter do it and know she has the gift. This human babe is no daughter o'

mine."

Margrit smiled unpleasantly. "So I have been tricked and lied to," she murmured. "No doubt your former Grand-Seeker hoped to win the throne with his fake Nic-Cuinn and rule the land through her. He should no' have lied to me, though, or hidden his purpose. I dislike cheats." She gestured to the bogfaery, who hastily dried and dressed the little girl and took her away. Maya wondered briefly what would happen to the child. From the deep curve of Margrit's mouth, she did not think it would be a kind fate.

The door opened and Renshaw swept in, his face gaunt and pale above the crimson gown. His step faltered when he saw Maya, and his skin turned the unwholesome color of a dead fish. He had never seen her without the mask of illusion and it was clear her appearance was a shock to him.

"Your Highness! What an unexpected pleasure," he said and bowed deeply. When he stood upright again, his eyes were hooded so it was hard to know what he felt, but Maya could see his fingers were rigid.

"The Dowager Banrigh has come to visit me and has brought some very interesting news," Margrit said affably. "Very interesting indeed."

Renshaw assumed an expression of interest.

"She tells me the young bairn ye brought me is no' her daughter, as ye claim, but an imposter. Both she and I would be very curious to know who the lassie is and where the real Bronwen NicCuinn is. We both have some interest in the matter, as I am sure you can imagine." Renshaw was silent for a moment. Although his face and hands were still, Maya had the impression he was thinking fast. "Ye shock me, Your Highness," he said at last. "Surely ye can see the young lassie is your daughter. Why, she has the white lock and your blue eyes."