The Well of Shades (38 page)

“If I asked you… if I asked you to show me, to prove to me that you were telling the truth, would you do it?”

His jaw dropped.
“What?”
he blurted out before he had time to think. He was unable to school his expression. Eile’s eyes changed. Her lips pressed into a hard line.

“Are you saying what I think you are?” He found words, knowing he must speak before
she took his silence to mean something other than he intended. “That I should give you a practical demonstration to prove that all men are not like Dalach?”

“More than that.” She was very serious; her voice quivered despite her evident efforts to control it. “I need you to show me he hasn’t ruined it for the future; to teach me how to… how to feel pleasure, not pain. Joy, not fear. If anyone
can do that, it’s you.”

“Me? A battle-scarred bodyguard with a faulty knee? A man who’s earned a reputation for being incapable of feeling? You must be crazy.”

“The thing is,” Eile said very carefully, “you are the only person I can even half trust. I think you could help me not to be scared. Maybe. I mean,” she was turning the empty cup around and around in her hands, “what if this nice young
man came along, and we played the game of courtship, and when it came to the point, the touch of his hands made me sick?”

“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation,” Faolan said. “What you suggest is… is…”

“If you hate the idea so much, just forget I ever mentioned it.” Eile’s voice was tight; she would not meet his eyes. “Someone like you and a—and someone like me, of course it wouldn’t
be acceptable, I must have been stupid to think you’d ever consider it.” She slumped her shoulders, staring into the fire.

It seemed to Faolan that what was unspoken filled the little hut with a sadness that was almost palpable. He’d managed to hurt her badly. Try as he might, he could not think of the words to make it right again. “I’m too old,” he said. “Old enough to be your father. Well,
maybe not quite, but too old anyway. And… Eile, do you want an honest answer?”

“I don’t know,” she muttered. “I suppose it depends what it is.”

He chose his words carefully. The confusion of feelings she had awoken in him made this necessary. “I think I’ve got to know you reasonably well over our journey. Right now you’re sick and dispirited, worried about Saraid, doubtful about how you’ll cope
in a new land with a new language. I’m certain you are not ready for
an… experiment… such as you’ve suggested. Give yourself time.”

She glanced up at him. “Aren’t I the one who knows if I’m ready or not?”

Gods, this was like crossing a raging torrent on wobbly stepping stones. One error and the two of them would go under. “I’m sure of one thing. I’m the wrong man for the job. You’re asking me
because I’m all you have for comparison. Much safer if you see me as your father’s friend, someone who’s helping you get to a place of safety and set your life to rights again. Anyway, I’ve given up this particular activity, I told you.”

“You mean you’re incapable?”

“Eile!” He lowered his voice, remembering the travelers by the fire. “No, of course not.”

“So it’s just me that’s the stumbling
block. The piece of rubbish. I bet you’d have done it with Ana if she’d asked you.”

“Ana’s a lady. It would never occur to her to make such a request.” The words were out before he could stop them, and he saw her flinch. “Eile, I didn’t mean it to sound like that.”

“Don’t lie to me. It’s all over your face. She’s a lady, I’m a slut. Don’t pretend. You’re disgusted by the very idea.”

“Eile,
this is crazy.”

“Oh, so I’m a slut
and crazy
. Forget I ever asked, Faolan. I’ll find some other fellow to practice on. I expect I’ll work out the right way to ask them if I try a few.”

Suddenly he was angry. He swallowed the other emotion that welled up at the same time, something that felt like a kick in the guts. “If I didn’t know how much you hate to be touched,” he said, “I’d give you a
good shaking for that.”

“For what?” Her voice was harsh with furious hurt.

“For that—that threat.”

“Threat? What do you mean?”

He made himself take a steady breath. “All right,” he said, trying to think like a father, calmly and capably. “First, I thought you promised not to use those terms for yourself: slut, rubbish. If you expect me to keep promises, you should do the same.”

“I forgot.”
Now she was sitting hunched on herself like an old woman, the challenge gone from her voice.

“Don’t forget again.”

Her head bowed lower.

“Now I want another promise from you,” Faolan said.

“What?”

“Don’t ask anyone else what you just asked me.”

Eile was silent, apparently giving this deep consideration. Then she said, “What gives you the right to stop me?”

“Since you ask, there’s the
éraic
, among other things.”

Another silence.

“How am I going to find out unless someone shows me?” she asked eventually. “You just said you were helping me set my life to rights. This is part of that.”

“It’s… it’s inappropriate, Eile. Your own introduction to such activities has been cruel and brutal. I understand that you may not… that perhaps you’re not aware…”

“You already said I’m not a lady.
Tell me something I don’t know.”

“The promise I want is that you’ll wait. That you’ll give this more time. That’s all.”

“Wait how long? You mean until this nice young man makes an appearance?”

“Wait, and talk to me again before you do anything about this. And promise me you won’t offer this… invitation… to anyone else in the meantime. You’d be putting yourself in danger.”

“You think I’m stupid,
don’t you? Why do you think I asked you and not one of those fellows out there? Because I know you won’t hurt me, that’s why.”

In the silence that ensued, Faolan thought the beating
of his own heart was loud enough to fill the space between the two of them; fierce enough to drown rational thought. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve failed your test. If you want to know what I felt when you asked me,
it was… I was honored that you would trust me with something so important. And terrified.”

“Why?” It was a whisper.

“That I’d get it wrong. That I couldn’t give you what you needed. It’s too soon, Eile.”

“You didn’t really think I’d go out and offer myself to any man who happened to be passing by, did you? Is that how little you think of me?”

“I thought Dalach might have warped your judgment.
That wouldn’t be so surprising. After all, you did tell me you believed all men must be like him.”

She looked down at her hands. “I don’t think you would be,” she said. “But if you don’t want me…”

Another cautious breath. “I didn’t say that.”

“A man like Dalach would have seized the opportunity before we were one night out of Fiddler’s Crossing,” she said flatly.

“I undertook to keep you safe,
Eile. There will come a time when you’ll understand why I said no.”

Eile lifted her head. The green eyes met his, searching, perplexed. “Honored,” she said. “Do you really mean that?”

“That, and a confusion of other things,” said Faolan. “Now I’m going to lie down on my bed, and you’re going to lie down on yours, and we’re going to forget this ever happened.”

“Huh!” said Eile quietly, getting
up and moving to her usual spot beside Saraid. “How are we supposed to do that?”

“Try to fix your mind on something else.”

“You could sing a song,” she suggested.

“Is that supposed to be a joke?”

“Only half. I’d like to hear your voice some time. Saraid loves lullabies.”

“I’ll teach you some words in the Priteni tongue instead.”

“All right.”

He heard the bracken rustling as she settled
by the sleeping child, huddling under the blanket. She coughed, muffling the sound with her hand.

“What do you want to learn?” Faolan asked.

“Kindness,” she said. “Hope.”

He translated them.

“Strength,” Eile said. “Love.”

Faolan cleared his throat, then gave her the words. “I’d be better to teach you,
Which way is the settlement?
, or
May I have some more bread?”
he said into a silence as
deep and dark as the cold forest outside the hut.

“I want these words now. They’re like—like—I don’t know how to say it. A powerful thing that keeps you safe. A special sort of gift.”

“A talisman,” said Faolan.

“Mm-hm. Kindness, hope, strength, love. Like magic. Magic to protect us.”

“I wish you all those things, Eile.”

“And I wish them for you.”

“I’ve no trust in talismans; no belief in
gods or in magic.” Briefly, he thought of Drustan, the man he had witnessed transforming into a creature with wings and talons and a breathtaking ability to fly. “I’ve found it much simpler to rely only on myself.”

“That’s… sad.” Eile’s voice was a little remote as if, against the odds, she was already falling asleep. “So lonely. At least I’ve got Saraid. If I was all by myself, I don’t know
how I could go on.”

Faolan did not sleep for a long while. He lay by the fire working on his thoughts; making them comply with a more manageable pattern. He divided the immediate future into a set of tasks, a priority of missions. Ensure Eile and Saraid got well again. Escort them safely to Pitnochie. Ask Ana and Drustan to take responsibility from that point. After tonight it was better, surely,
if Eile was
with other folk; with a family and a household, not in this odd, push-and-pull arrangement with him. She expected something from him that he could not give. If she stayed with him, it was inevitable that he would disappoint her in one way or another. He would let her down as her father had done. She’d be far happier with Drustan and Ana. They would welcome her; she was Deord’s daughter.

The next mission was White Hill and Bridei. A double warning: Colmcille and Carnach. He would deliver his news, then ask the king to send him out in search of these plotters. No other man at court could perform that kind of covert surveillance quite as effectively as Faolan could. Besides, such a mission would take him away. When he got back they’d all be gone: Ana, Drustan, Eile as well…

You’re
a craven coward
, a voice said inside him.

“Shut up,” he muttered.

On the pallet Saraid was asleep, and so was Eile, her long hair spread over the pillow like a river of dark flame. Out by the fire the Pitnochie men lay silent, rolled in their cloaks. There was nobody to hear him but the shadows.

I
T HAD NOT
taken long for Breda of the Light Isles to set her stamp
on the court at White Hill. She moved among the chieftains, the warriors, the councillors, and household retainers like an exotic pale butterfly with an attendant flock of plainer creatures. She dabbled in embroidery or music, she stroked a cat or admired a flower while seemingly unaware of the impact her presence made. Men could not take their eyes off her; she drew the gaze of all from the ancient
scholar, Wid, to the twelve-year-old sons of visiting chieftains. Wid’s comments were wry and to the point: “Trouble, I see it in every hair on that creature’s head.” Younger admirers were dazzled and
confused. Several well-connected older men made tentative enquiries of Keother as to whether his young cousin had received any formal offers of marriage. Some bolder individuals made it their mission
to win Breda’s friendship.

Uric and Bedo had been unable to think of much else since the first moment they clapped eyes on this shapely, golden-haired vision. They had decided their self-appointed task of entertaining small boys was sure to get in the way of their chances with Breda. For several days, therefore, they had been too busy to play with Derelei, Gilder, and Galen. Instead, they’d hung
around the great hall listening to tedious harp music and trying to look as if they had some meaningful purpose there. Neither had managed more than a brief word before Breda’s eyes passed over him and on to someone more interesting. Finally their father had told them to stop mooning about and find themselves a useful occupation or he’d pack the two of them off home to Raven’s Well. Talorgen was
testy right now; his sons put it down to annoyance at being moved to less spacious quarters to make room for the royal visitors.

At last Bedo managed to engage one of Breda’s handmaids in conversation. As Breda’s entourage swept across the courtyard, it happened that the king’s dog, Ban, was passing, and the dark-haired girl stopped to pat him while the others went on.

“You like dogs?” Bedo
had been close by and seized the opportunity.

She nodded. “I have one at home; a terrier. I really miss her.”

“We have mostly hunting hounds at Raven’s Well. This is King Bridei’s dog, Ban. He’s quite friendly. Oh, my name’s Bedo, son of Talorgen, by the way.”

“Cella. My father is one of King Keother’s advisers. I know who you are. You and your brother introduced yourselves to Lady Breda the
other day. Or tried to.”

Bedo grinned. He had his father’s infectious smile, and
the girl smiled back. “Uric and I would be happy to help entertain the lady, if we could discover what amuses her,” he said. “Riding, maybe, or playing games?”