The Sigil Blade (15 page)

“Did I do something wrong?” Edryd asked, playing along.

Eithne shook her head, but said nothing.

“I am sure I did something,” Edryd insisted, “or you wouldn’t look so upset.”

Eithne refused to react to the comment.

“I suppose you are not going to tell me then,” Edryd sighed.

“You’re supposed to be dangerous,” Eithne finally responded. “But you’re not. You can’t do anything.”

Her words were meant to sound mean, but there was no meanness in them. She was curious, and she was clearly gaining confidence through mocking and provoking him. She had, however, quite neatly summarized precisely how Edryd saw himself in that moment.

“You probably can’t even hold a sword,” she continued.

“I can do much more than that,” Edryd reacted automatically. Thinking about it though, right at this moment he wasn’t at all sure that he could. Her comment probably wasn’t random. Irial had told her that he was a swordsman.

Eithne eyed him with skepticism.

“Get me a stick or a long branch,” Edryd offered, “we can practice right here and I will show you a trick or two.”

Eithne eyed him with even more skepticism.

“Get one for yourself as well, and I can show you how to hold it.”

“I don’t want one. Girls don’t fight,” Eithne said, insisting upon this point as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and Edryd was a complete idiot.

“Then what do they do?” Edryd asked

The question momentarily confounded Eithne as she struggled for an answer. Now she really was a little bit angry with him. A satisfied smile broke across her face as she found her response. “A woman uses knowledge and intelligence,” she declared.

“And you are a woman then?” Edryd asked, showing amusement at her comment. Eithne didn’t look like she was any older than ten.

Eithne was well and truly mad now, and she forgot what little was left of her fear of, and her respect for, this man who had insulted her. Mentally, Eithne was intelligent beyond her age. Emotionally and physically though, she was even more immature than she looked, and owing to the one, she was highly sensitive about the other.

“I’m eleven years old,” she said with emphasis on the eleven. This was quite old in her estimation. She clearly was taking great pride in all the wisdom that those eleven years had conveyed upon her.

“That is a long time,” Edryd agreed.

Eithne couldn’t tell if Edryd was being sarcastic or not, but she began to calm down. “A woman studies things, and uses persuasion and reason to achieve what she wants,” she continued, elaborating on her previous thought.

Edryd smiled. He found he could easily agree with most of that. “So in other words, with blackmail and by means of other devious manipulations,” Edryd teased.

Eithne’s mouth fell open in surprise. Closing it tight, she turned on her heel and made an exaggerated march out of the room to show her disdain. For a moment, Edryd wondered how badly he had upset her, but that notion was dispelled when he heard Eithne vainly trying to stifle a fit of laughter out in the hallway.

A few hours and five confrontations later, Eithne was getting better at her mask of malice and disapproval, improving rapidly with practice. It was all good humored and playful, but still pretty perplexing to Edryd. He didn’t understand the game, but somehow it was fun to play along. Each conversation had been profitable as well, yielding something new each time.

He learned that she and her sister took care of six goats, seventeen chickens, an herb garden, and a plot of vegetables that included carrots, potatoes, and onions. Added to all of that now was one fairly useless and enfeebled stranger who was more trouble to care for than any other part of the small farm.

He learned more useful things as well. He had been nearly dead to the world for over three weeks, and he had indeed been taken for one of the dreaded Ash Men by people who had seen him stumbling through the town on the day he had collapsed. He was most certainly considered a source of contagion. No one apart from Irial, Eithne, and Seoras was to know where he was. Irial it seemed, was risking a lot. Seoras had acquiesced to Irial’s suggestion that he should be cared for in her home, but that had only been because he was convinced that Edryd would not survive. If Edryd was not going to live, just as well that he died quietly somewhere else. Now that he was awake, it wasn’t clear what would happen.

Eithne had also let it slip that her sister had plans for Edryd, but Eithne didn’t seem to know what was involved. This was hardly an unfamiliar experience. It seemed to Edryd like everyone he met wanted to use him in one way or another. Ordinarily, Edryd would have been frustrated, but he found that he was instead anxiously hoping that he could be useful. He certainly owed a debt, and would do whatever he could to help Irial.

Irial’s return interrupted the middle of yet another mini confrontation. It was only as she heard Irial approaching the house that Eithne realized she had never brought Edryd any milk. In a blur of motion, she was gone and back again with an earthen pitcher and a cup made out of a hollowed-out stone. Pouring quickly, she then extended the cup toward Edryd.

“Drink it,” she whined urgently, “do it quickly.”

Edryd wanted to tell her that it didn’t really matter, but Eithne looked so sincerely worried that he took the milk and began to drink. The milk was warm and not quite fresh either, and though it was immensely satisfying to his starved body, he was having trouble finishing it.

“Do it faster,” she pled as he tried to swallow, causing him to choke.

Recovering, Edryd drained the contents of the cup and dried his mouth on his sleeve just as Irial was entering the room.

“Oh good, you gave him the milk,” Irial said. She was pleased to see Edryd doing well.

“This is his second cup,” Eithne lied, “I brought him another right after you left.”

Edryd nearly coughed up what was left of a last swallow of milk that he had not gotten completely down.

“We mustn’t give him too much, Eithne,” Irial cautioned. “He needs to build up slowly.”

“Don’t worry, I took good care of him,” she replied. She flashed Edryd a subtle warning look as if to say he shouldn’t dare try and contradict her.

“She certainly did,” Edryd agreed. “I can’t say I wouldn’t have preferred a good piece of roasted meat, but the spiced chicken dumplings she made me were delicious.”

Remembering Irial’s strict warning that she was not to give him anything solid, Eithne gasped, the sharply inhaled air remaining momentarily caught in her lungs. Believing she was about to unfairly be in trouble, Eithne started in on a furious protest that she had done no such thing when Irial began to laugh.

“She isn’t much of a student in the kitchen,” Irial said. “If Eithne had made you dumplings, you wouldn’t have been able to describe them with the word ‘delicious’.”

Eithne flushed red and stomped out of the room, the expression of malice and disdain all too real this time.

“That has to be the tenth time today she has done that,” Edryd reported, exaggerating only a little. “At least she is angry with you this time instead of me.”

“Eithne has become very invested in getting you better, and takes watching over you very seriously,” Irial said. “You probably shouldn’t tease her like that.”

Edryd’s smile faded as guilt began to rise slowly to the surface. “I expect that I have been a real burden, and I must seem ungrateful,” he said with remorse.

“I won’t say it was no trouble,” Irial admitted. “But your survival is a matter of no small consequence… important to many others to be sure, but not least of all to me either.”

Edryd knew he was taking it the wrong way, but his heart ran faster at hearing Irial say he was important to her. He remembered Eithne had mentioned that Irial needed him. Rather than follow his awkward interest in pursuing clarity in the matter, he changed the topic to a related subject.

“If you know the answer,” Edryd began cautiously, “can you tell me what it is that Seoras wants with me?”

Irial paused before responding. “Do you remember I told you that he trains enslaved men to be soldiers?” she asked.

Edryd nodded. He did remember, but he wasn’t sure how it related to him.

“To say that he trains soldiers doesn’t really suffice. When he finishes, they are more than just ordinary soldiers, they are special,” she continued.

“I’m sorry,” Edryd scoffed, unconsciously adopting an officious and condescending tone, “but from what I have seen there is very little that is special about his soldiers. Hagan and Cecht were poorly trained, ill-mannered, and lacked any discernable discipline.” In truth, both had been surprisingly fast and resilient, but Edryd didn’t feel like either could do anything other than cheapen the very concept of what a professional soldier should be. Had Edryd been responsible in any way for their oversight or training, he would have been quick to avoid accepting credit for the results.

“Those two are examples of his failures,” Irial corrected. “His more accomplished students have been dealt a more horrible fate than simply remaining in service to Seoras here in An Innis. Those that show proficiency and learn to shape darkness are made into thralls to undead spirit creatures that serve Aed Seoras’s master.”

“You’re talking of the draugar,” Edryd said with a shudder that came despite his best efforts to remain calm. He didn’t know what was meant by ‘shaping darkness’ but his own experiences with being followed and pursued relentlessly by a draugr pushed all other thoughts from his mind.

“Yes, that is one name for them,” Irial confirmed.

Skipping the more obvious question as to who was Aed Seoras’s master, Edryd focused on his more immediate predicament. “He means to make me one of these thralls then?”

“I don’t think so,” Irial disagreed. “He seems to see you as something else.”

“Meaning what?”

“I think he believes you could become his equal, or even more than that,” Irial explained. “I think he is looking for an ally and partner.”

“An ally against whom or a partner in what?” Edryd questioned.

“I am sure I do not know,” Irial answered truthfully but unhelpfully.

Edryd began to understand just how difficult his position was, and wondered if it might have been better if he had simply not survived his illness. He had narrowly slipped a draugr who seemed to have a personal mission to unrelentingly follow him across the breadth of the known world, only to end up mixed up with a man who paired unwilling captives and slaves to those very same deathly creatures. He could hardly have found a less safe place to escape to.

“I have no right to ask more of you, but when we met you told me you could help me leave An Innis,” Edryd reminded her, holding onto the small hope that this gave him.

“I am afraid it is too late for that,” Irial responded. “I should not have spoken about that, not without better understanding the situation. I was lacking some important information, or I would never have suggested it.”

Edryd assumed this to mean that Seoras’s interest in him was much stronger than she had imagined, and he didn’t push the matter any further. He would have to face the realities of the situation without complaint. Seeing the look of sudden resignation on his face, Irial made an effort to reassure him. “No reason to worry for the moment, you are nowhere near well enough to leave here. I can buy you time to figure things out before you will need to resume training with Seoras.”

“I really am grateful for your help,” Edryd said sincerely. “Tell me what I can do for you in return. I am sure there is something.”

Appearing uncertain, Irial looked Edryd over intently, considering what she should say. “We will talk of it when you are better,” she finally offered, explaining nothing at all.

Irial closed the conversation by asking after anything he might need. Insisting that he didn’t need anything, Edryd was then left alone in the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. Immediately, he regretted not having asked about a change of clothes.

It was no more than a few minutes later when Eithne intruded upon his solitude. “If you were wondering,” she began slowly and seriously, “Irial was just being mean when she said that I was bad at cooking.” Eithne seemed to be very worried on this point.

“I’m sure she was,” Edryd replied.

“I don’t know how to make chicken dumplings,” she admitted. “But I watch over the goats and chickens, and I work in the garden. I help harvest vegetables, I tend the fire, and I help clean everything.”

Edryd smiled as he listened to the unending list of things that Eithne did to contribute.

“If I don’t know how to cook, it is because she doesn’t either,” she continued, rationalizing any perceived shortcomings she might have. “I’ve seen how she does it though. If she would let me, I could cook what she does,” Eithne insisted. She didn’t seem to realize that she was contradicting her earlier claim that Irial couldn’t cook at all.

“You have left something important out,” Edryd objected.

Eithne tensed, expecting Edryd to challenge the glowing review she had just given herself.

“You know how to nurse a poor sick stranger back to health,” Edryd said. “I understand I have you to thank for watching over me and getting me better.”