The Well of Shades (37 page)

“I’ll tell him,” Faolan said, his mind working fast. While he had been taking his time to travel, going at a pace suited to Eile and Saraid, it seemed all manner of potential disasters had been closing in on Bridei. If he’d been on his own, he could have been at White Hill by now. “Spring’s been here awhile; shouldn’t Carnach be at Caer Pridne, where the king can simply ask him the question
outright? Who’s in command of Fortriu’s fighting men?”

“He could be back for all I know.” Cinioch sucked appreciatively on a rabbit bone. “I’m out of it, myself. Getting married soon, settling down to help my cousin and her man look after the Pitnochie farmland. I don’t care if
I never see another Gael in my life.” There was a pause. “Present company excepted, of course,” he added, glancing from
Faolan to the hut and back. Inside, Saraid could be heard coughing, and Eile speaking to her in a low voice.

For a little, nobody spoke. Faolan’s reputation meant the Pitnochie men-at-arms would not engage him in idle conversation or tax him with obvious questions such as, “When were you planning to move on?” or “How can we help?” Most folk were afraid of him; all were wary in his presence. His
sudden unlikely acquisition of a woman and a small child did nothing to allay their natural caution.

“Cinioch,” Faolan asked after a while, “with Broichan gone, who is currently in residence at Pitnochie?” Broichan’s house was the next logical stop on the trip up the Glen; a fair way, but a house of friends, well able to provide everything needed for Eile and the child, and inhabited by folk
who understood discretion. It was quiet and secluded; less frightening for Eile than the grand establishment at Raven’s Well would be. But…

“The lady from the Light Isles is still there,” Uven said. “Her and her betrothed. They’ve been in the house all winter. Lovely folk to look after: quiet, courteous, no airs and graces. Even Mara likes them. But they’ll be off soon.”

Faolan ordered himself
to breathe slowly. “Off?”

“To the north, to Drustan’s lands,” said Cinioch. “They were waiting for Broichan to conduct the handfasting, but now it seems they’ll be married at White Hill, with another druid performing the ceremony. News of that came just before the three of us headed off for Raven’s Well. They could be already gone when we get back. You want to ride with us?” He glanced around,
apparently for horses.

“We’re on foot,” Faolan said. “Eile’s not much of a rider. I’d hoped to secure passage up Serpent Lake by boat, if there’s anything going that way. Right now the two of them are too sick to be moved.”

“And you’re in a hurry,” Cinioch ventured.

“You could say that.”

“You want us to take the girl and the child back to Raven’s Well while you go on? We can lend you a horse
and replace it with another from Talorgen’s stable. We’re not in such a hurry that an extra day would make much difference.”

“No.” It was an effort to get the word out. Bridei needed this information; it could be vital. This was Faolan’s job, his mission. Take one of these sturdy mounts, and he could be at White Hill in a day or two. “Eile would be frightened; she doesn’t know the language. And
the child’s too sick to go even as far as Raven’s Well. I’ll wait until they can go on.”

“Suit yourself.” Uven gave him a searching look.

“You can help me by letting the household at Pitnochie know we’ll be coming; we’ll avail ourselves of at least one night’s shelter there. If Eile and Saraid can’t travel further, I’ll leave them in Mara’s hands. Do you have sufficient oatmeal to leave us a
supply? That will be welcome. The child needs good plain fare.”

“You can take what we have,” Cinioch said. “Our bread as well. It’s not as if we’ve far to go, and we can hunt easily.”

Faolan could see a bemused look in the three men’s eyes; this encounter would likely be the cause of much speculation when they moved on. He cared nothing for that. Let them think what they liked.

He’d had to
go back for herbs, since he’d dropped what he’d gathered when Eile called out. With the Pitnochie men settled in their cloaks by the fire, he took his fresh harvest into the hut.

Saraid was asleep, snuggled deep in her blankets. Eile sat cross-legged on the floor by the hearth, staring into the fire. Her supper had barely been touched. The look on her face disquieted him; even her daughter’s
illness had not brought such shadows to her eyes.

He squatted by her, herbs in hand, and reached for the little pot of water.

“What am I going to do?” Eile’s voice sounded as if she’d been crying. “I can’t understand what anyone’s saying here; the words you’ve taught me are no help at all. How am I going to get on? Those men, I thought they’d come to kill us or to… to make use of me the way
Dalach did…”

“I won’t let that happen, Eile. I promise you.”

“What were they telling you? It was something important, wasn’t it? You need to go. To go on ahead.”

A tear escaped, running down her cheek, catching the firelight. Not letting himself think too hard, Faolan set down knife and herbs, reached out a hand and wrapped it around hers.

“We’re staying here until Saraid’s well,” he said.
“I wouldn’t dream of going on without you.”

She had not snatched her hand away. It was the first time, and that seemed a small miracle. He found that he was holding his breath.

“But you want to.” Her tone was flat.

“I made a choice. These men offered to take you back to Raven’s Well while I went on. You’re right, there are urgent messages to deliver, messages that only I can carry. I declined
the offer. They’re leaving us some supplies and heading on in the morning. I won’t lie to you, part of me wants to be at White Hill as soon as I can. It is important. But another part of me knows I have to wait. I made a promise.”

“I told you we could cope without you.”

“Then why are you crying?” he asked her quietly.

The response was instant. “I’m not!” A moment later, she put her head against
his shoulder and dissolved into convulsive, silent sobs. His heart thumped; this was completely unexpected, and he did not know what to do. This was not a woman who could be comforted by an embrace; she had made it clear such closeness was repugnant to her.
And yet his instincts made him put his arms around her shoulders, awkwardly, and lay his cheek lightly against her hair. She wept; he held
her. All the time his heart beat a kind of warning, but of what he was not certain. He had not held a woman in his arms since he said good-bye to Ana. Ana… Gods, Pitnochie was not far up the Glen, and she was still there. He longed to see her, and yet he wished with every fiber of his being that he need never see her again.

“Hush,” he whispered. “Hush. You can trust me. Believe it. I won’t let
anything happen to you, or to Saraid.”

“I’m scared, Faolan.” For all the childlike statement, the tone was a woman’s. The fear he heard in it was a grown-up fear, the terror of yet another move, yet another loss, yet another betrayal. “I’m tired and sad and scared of what’s to come. And I’m angry. Angry with myself for being so weak. I should be happy. Grateful. I could be still in Dalach’s hut;
so could Saraid. I could be facing execution. I’m sorry. You’ve done so much for us. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” She seemed to notice, at last, that he had his arms around her, and disengaged herself, pushing back her hair then scrubbing her cheeks.

“You’re tired and sick, and you’ve got Saraid to look after. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“You’re tired, too, and your knee’s hurt. But
you just seem to keep going.”

“If you think I’ve never suffered from despair, you have a very short memory,” he said. “Eile, I want you to eat that supper.”

“I feel sick. I don’t want it.”

“You need it. Just the oatmeal, if that’s easier. And drink some of this when it’s ready.” After a moment he added, “Please.”

She drew a shuddering breath. “If you want. I wonder if I’m always going to be
like this.”

“Eat it, Eile. Like what?”

“Always remembering. So that, as soon as things go wrong, I feel like I’m back in Dalach’s hut, and my belly goes tight with terror, and I have to force myself to do what needs to be done, when all I want is to be a little child again and have Mother and Father come and make things better.”

“I don’t know. I think it’s the way I said before: the memory’s
still there, but it fades so you can bear it. Going back helped me. I didn’t think it would, but Ana was right to make me go. To see my family well and content… that healed a wound for me, even though my mother is gone, even though Áine is no longer herself. But it didn’t wipe out what I did to my brother. I still dream of the blood. I still wish, every day, that I could change the past.” He realized
this was not at all what he had intended to say to her. “You’re young,” he said. “It will get better.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to trust anyone,” Eile whispered. She had eaten one mouthful of the oatmeal and set the platter down. The steeping herbs began to fill the air with a pungent aroma.

Faolan thought of the way she had let him touch her. He said nothing.

“Tell me about Ana.” It
came out of the blue, like a blow.

This was not a moment to go tight-lipped; to refuse a confidence. “I’ve told you the bare bones of it.”

“Tell me more.”

“As I said, it was my mission, last spring, to escort her to Caitt lands to wed a chieftain there. She’d never met him. It was a strategic alliance. Various disasters befell us. We met Deord, and when we were in trouble, he saved us, and
died. The man Ana’s to marry now is the brother of the chieftain Bridei intended for her. His name is Drustan.”

“Not much of a story.” Eile’s green eyes scrutinized him closely.

“The whole tale would take all night. There were wolves; that is the truth. There was the spectacle of the king’s emissary acting the part of a court bard.”

“But you were a bard.”

“It had been years since I played
or sang. I did manage a convincing show at Briar Wood. Ana was amazed. I won’t do it again. It hurts too much.”

“Singing hurts?”

He nodded. “It’s too close to the heart. It stirs things up. Everything started to go wrong the day I sang a little snatch of a song… I was carrying Ana across a ford on my horse. What came over me was worse than any fairy curse. It was unwelcome, destructive, inconvenient,
and pointless, since she was on her way to make a strategic marriage and it was my job to get her there safely. Besides, I was the last man to put himself up as a suitor for a princess.”

“Why? Your kin are highborn, aren’t they? Princes and chieftains of the Uí Néill? Don’t Priteni princesses marry such men?”

He’d distracted her from her misery; he told himself that was a good thing, and went
doggedly on. “Not when their employment includes the roles of assassin and spy. Not when they’re Gaels.”

“Oh.”

“Keep that to yourself. It’s best if you consider me only a bodyguard; I am that as well.”

“An assassin. Really? So I’d never have got near enough with that pitchfork to do so much as scratch your pretty face?”

“I’m glad we never put it to the test. You’re not going to eat that, are
you? Here, drink the draft instead. I intend to sit here watching until it’s all gone.”

“Faolan?”

“What?”

“It’s not too late, you know. I mean, this Ana’s not married yet, is she? Why don’t you do something about
it? Things don’t change unless you’re brave enough to change them yourself.”

The suggestion filled him with a chilling mixture of longing and dread. “That’s a really bad idea,” he
said, “for more reasons than I could possibly list. To start with, nobody at White Hill knows what family I belong to. Ana does, but she won’t tell. Even the king is unaware that his chief bodyguard is kin to Gabhran of Dalriada. Besides, Ana loves Drustan. If she married me everyone would be unhappy.”

“Even you?”

“I want her to wed her chieftain and go away. I can deal with it as long as I
don’t have to see them together. I know I’m not the man for her, Eile. I’ve always known that.”

She sat silent, the cup between her hands.

“Anyway,” Faolan said, “I don’t make it my business to tell you who you should marry. Why would you take it upon yourself to suggest such a thing to me?” He tried to keep his tone light, inconsequential; it was not quite successful.

“But you did,” Eile said
quietly. “A nice young man of my own age who’ll come courting one day and make me forget Dalach, and the years in that hut, and the fact that a man’s touch frightens and repulses me. You had it all worked out.”

After a little he said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to sound so… facile. I understand that you’ve been terribly hurt. Such wounds take a lot of healing. What I wanted to say was how much
I admire your strength of will, your courage. And that I am certain you can do it: be healed, be happy, make a life. I see that in you.”

“You do?” The voice had changed again; now it held a fragile hope.

Faolan nodded, meeting her eyes. “You are your father’s daughter. If Ana and Drustan are still at Pitnochie when we get there, they can tell you more about him.
About his bravery and his goodness.
He was Drustan’s only companion for seven years.”

Eile’s mouth twisted. “All the years I waited for him to come back.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry the only one who came was me.”

Saraid stirred, drawing a wheezing breath, and muttered something. Eile went to lift her higher on the rolled-up garments that served as a pillow, murmuring soothing words.

“She feels a bit cooler now.”

“Good. Can you get
her to drink?”

“She’s still asleep, really. Talking in her dreams.”

“You should sleep, too. Have you finished that draft?”

“Most of it.” She returned to the hearth, dropping to sit cross-legged and straight-backed. “I want to ask you something.”

“Ask, then.”

“You know what you said about a nice young man my own age; what you said about men and women, and how what they do need not be like
it was with Dalach?”

“Mm?” Faolan felt uneasy about this turn of the conversation, especially with three men lying out there by the fire. Still, he did not think any of them likely to know Gaelic. There was a manner of talk between himself and Eile that had grown up on their journey, a familiarity born of long days on the road and nights in whatever shelter they could find. It owed something
to what they had shared back in Laigin.