The Well of Shades (58 page)

Talorgen had come early; it was plain he wanted to speak to Bridei before the others arrived. The king was alone in the chamber save for his dog, Ban, whose small white form was a blur under the table.

“I’m packed up and ready to go, my lord,” the chieftain said. Talorgen’s brow was, if anything, still more furrowed than on the night of the feast, and he paced the small chamber restlessly, setting
Ban on edge. “We’ve decided, Brethana and I, that it’s best if she takes the boys home to Raven’s Well, for now at least. Because of Bedo’s arm, they’ll travel by water. That means they’ll need to stay on here awhile without me, until passage is available.”

“Of course,” Bridei said, a little surprised that this need even be mentioned. “Your family is welcome at court as long as they want to stay.”

“Uric wants to come with me. But he’s young yet. I’ve told him if things go well he can travel to Caer Pridne later in the summer. It’s Bedo who most concerns me.”

“His arm is not mending?”

“Oh, the arm is all right; the physician’s pleased with him. But Bedo’s still acting oddly. He can’t let go his suspicions about that day, the day he got the injury. They’ve gone quiet about it, he and Uric
both; they won’t tell me exactly what it is they believe happened. I know they’re offended that we didn’t seem to take them seriously when they first raised the matter. Now they’re afraid we’ll dismiss their fears as nonsense.”

“I did have the events of that afternoon investigated, Talorgen. Nothing suspicious was uncovered, beyond the fact that a well-trained mare shied and bolted for no apparent
reason. Some folk thought Breda screamed before the horse reared up; some thought she did so afterward, as one would expect. If your boys won’t put this theory
of theirs out in the open, I can’t see any real grounds for pursuing this further, and nor would Keother, I’m sure. Where this matter is concerned, he’s shared my own opinions. Indeed, he’s been remarkably cooperative.”

“A surprise in
view of his performance at the feast,” observed Talorgen, curling his lip. “I’ve never seen such a disgraceful attempt to belittle and undermine a leader as the exhibition he put on that night. What Keother’s up to I don’t know, but I’ll be glad when he and his spoiled brat of a cousin are gone from here. Their visit has been disruptive and unsettling.”

“Breda was quite blunt when asked to account
for the behavior of her horse that day. In her mind it was a clear case of the animal’s inadequacy. She considers herself entirely blameless. I spoke to her myself. The girl seems too naive and childish to be the instigator of anything devious.”

“Her uncle might have exerted pressure on her. Keother’s powerful, and she’s young. I hope you don’t intend to retain her here as a replacement for Ana.”

“Keother’s outspokenness at the feast suggests some action may be required to keep him in check. If taking a hostage is the only option, then I will do it.”

“You say she’s too childish to be dangerous. I should tell you that Bedo’s obsession seems to be centered on her. Of late, he’s taken to sending his brother out on horseback to conduct some kind of search in the field where the accident took
place.”

“Search? For what? Surely all signs will be gone now; time has passed, and we’ve had rain.”

“He wasn’t exactly open about it, but I gather the search is for an implement that may have been used to startle Breda’s horse. Once I’m gone from White Hill, my wife is not confident she can call a halt to this. My sons know they’re due to return home shortly, but Brethana believes that when
it comes to the point, if they haven’t found what they seek, they may insist on staying at White Hill. They treat her with respect, but she’s not their mother.”

“I see. Very well; if required, I will assist your wife with the matter. It’s awkward with Keother and Breda still here. Would Bedo talk to me now?”

“I doubt it, Bridei. I think it’s best if—”

A knock on the door. Ban barked, a sound
far more arresting than his size suggested was possible. Then Garth’s voice: “My lord?”

Bridei nodded to Talorgen to open the door.

“My lord, I regret the interruption,” said Garth from outside. “Faolan’s back.”

A
LITTLE LATER
, while the chieftain of Raven’s Well waited tactfully outside, Bridei regarded his right-hand man across the table and tried to mask his concern.
Faolan had limped in; his efforts to disguise the fact that he was in pain did not deceive Bridei. His face was pale under the marks of fading bruises; his dark eyes were shadowed, as if he had gone long without sleep. The little dog looked up at him but remained silent, for this was a trusted confidant well known to him. Of course, Faolan always drove himself hard. But Bridei had never seen
him like this. His heart sank. It must be bad news; the worst news.

“Faolan, welcome back. Sit, please. I must ask for your report immediately. I have a council scheduled; the participants will be here soon. But I will hear from you first, before we decide what we can share.”

Faolan did not sit. “The tale’s odd, my lord,” he said. “A long journey with nothing new to be gleaned, only the same
rumors, and tales of activity on the road toward Circinn and within, armed men, parties of riders. Then I stumbled on Carnach in person.”

Bridei leaned forward, hands clasped before him on the table. “If you did, you’ll be the first man in all Fortriu who’s clapped eyes on my kinsman since he went home for the winter. Where? In what company?”

“On the surface it looks bad, Bridei.” Faolan abandoned
the more formal mode of address, falling into the common pattern of speech between friends. “He was in Circinn, and the man with him was Bargoit.”

Bridei whistled. “Are you sure?” If true, this was almost worse than he could have imagined. It made Carnach a traitor of the basest level.

“I’m sure. They captured and interrogated me. Oh, nothing too bad,” at Bridei’s gesture of concern. “I managed
to convince that stoat Bargoit that I was insignificant. The chief problem was that it delayed my return. Made me slow.”

Bridei did not ask about the leg. He could see the uneven stance, the pain written all over his friend’s well-governed features. “I take it from what you’ve said that Bargoit did not know who you were,” he said, thinking hard. “So…?”

“I believe this is not the ill news it
appears to be,” Faolan said. “Garth told me you’ve appointed Talorgen in Carnach’s place. I curse myself for taking so long to get back. In the matter of your chief war leader, you could have afforded to wait.”

“What are you saying? That Carnach is coming back? That he expects to step into his old position after consorting with the likes of Bargoit? Whatever he is, my kinsman is not a fool.”

“Bridei,” said Faolan, sitting on the bench at last and stretching out his leg before him with a grimace, “there’s something you may need to take on trust.”

“Yes?”

“Firstly, note the fact that Carnach showed not a flicker of recognition when his men brought me in. He played along with my assumed identity as a rather dull farmhand who’d wandered a little too far from home.”

If the matter had
not been so serious Bridei would have smiled at that. “You, a farmhand?” he said. “That must have been a challenge.”

“They believed me; at least, Bargoit did. I had an odd conversation with Carnach. Let me tell you…”

Bridei listened, weighing it up: talk of going away, of turning one’s back on a good home and a good job; of loyalty calling a man home. Something about opportunities in Circinn.
Mention of Midsummer. Trust was a fine thing. All the same, what Faolan suggested required quite a leap of faith.

“If you’re right,” he said, “Carnach showed an amazing degree of quick-wittedness.”

“Ask yourself if, before the day he took exception to your decision regarding the crown of Circinn and marched away home, you had any doubts at all about Carnach’s loyalty.”

“You know I had none,
Faolan. But he was angry; bitterly disappointed in me. Can I risk believing that this conversation between the two of you, for which he cannot have been prepared, was indeed the passing of a cryptic message assuring me of his loyalty? What if I act on that belief and you’re proved to be wrong? We could be caught perilously underprepared for an attack. Besides, nothing alters the fact that Carnach
was in Circinn, in company with Bargoit. Bargoit has never been a friend of Fortriu. And he’s powerful; more powerful than any councillor should be.”

“All I can do is offer my own conviction that Carnach meant me to tell you his allegiances are unchanged, and that he will return to his position as war leader. I believe that when he ordered me to go home by Midsummer he meant you could expect
him then.”

“Do you have a theory concerning Bargoit?”

“Several; I have yet to decide which is the most plausible. I think it possible Carnach is luring Bargoit into a trap of some kind. It would be greatly to Fortriu’s advantage if Bargoit lost his influence with the new king of Circinn. I’m certain my sudden appearance in the middle of it all was highly inconvenient for Carnach. However, he
used his wits to turn my presence to his advantage. He’d have known you sent me to find out what was going on; he used me to respond to your concerns. To let you know he can
handle the situation, whatever it is. That you haven’t lost his support and that he’ll be back.”

“Flamekeeper aid us,” said Bridei, “perhaps it really is good news. You know I trust you, Faolan. I wasn’t there; you were.
The question now is, shall we share this and, if so, how widely?”

“Who will be present at this council?”

“Talorgen. You may be relieved to know he accepted his new post somewhat unwillingly, and only on a temporary basis. Fola, who will be leaving soon for Banmerren, but agreed to stay for this. Aniel and Tharan. Perhaps Tuala, if she can be free.”

Faolan nodded. “The decision is yours, of
course. I believe you can inform that group of this matter. Do I take it that Broichan is not yet returned?”

“We’ve heard nothing. My next task for you may have to be seeking out news of these Christians; I hope their arrival is not imminent. Keother and his cousin are still here. I’d prefer to avoid the complication of dealing with both at once. He’s dangerous and she’s volatile. And there’s
a strong Christian presence in the Light Isles, which Keother is known to tolerate.”

“Yes, my lord.” Faolan’s tone had changed, as had his expression; something in Bridei’s speech had made him seek the protection of formality.

“I don’t plan to send you off right away, friend,” Bridei said, guessing as one usually had to do with Faolan. “Right now, you should go off and wash, change your clothes,
and have a bite to eat. Then I’d be glad if you would return here to give your personal account to my council.”

“Yes, my lord.”

He was nearly at the door when Bridei said, on impulse, “By the way, that young lady of yours has settled in very well.”

Faolan stopped as if hit by a crossbow bolt. He stood utterly still, half turned away from the king.

“Eile, I mean,” Bridei added when it became
evident
Faolan was not going to ask. “She’s learning the Priteni tongue—we asked our old tutor Wid to help her—and making new friends. She’s become quite a favorite here. Tuala says she has a rare touch with the children.”

Faolan could be seen to breathe again. “She’s still here?” His voice was odd; tight and strained. “Does that mean Ana and Drustan haven’t left court? I thought—”

“Ana and
Drustan were handfasted some time ago, Faolan.” Bridei kept his tone neutral. He was perhaps the only person in whom Faolan had confided the truth about his impossible passion for Ana, and the complicated nature of the bond between the three of them, Ana, Faolan, and Drustan. “They are long since departed for the north. But Eile and her daughter stayed behind.”

“I see.” It came after a pause
in which Bridei thought he could almost feel the turmoil in his friend’s mind, such was the tension in the little chamber. “Where have you housed them? A rare touch, you said… Is Eile working as a nursemaid? That is not—”

“Why don’t you go and ask her?” Bridei suggested. “She’ll very likely be in our private garden at this time of day, pulling up a few weeds and keeping an eye on Derelei.”

“Your council—”

“Go on, Faolan. We can wait a little. Remember you are human.”

Faolan limped to the door and set a hand on its frame for support. “Oddly enough,” he said quietly, “I no longer need reminding.”