The Well of Shades (87 page)

“Flamekeeper preserve us,” said Bridei. “Everything at once; the gods test all of us. I’m sorry,
dear one, I must go. Aniel, will you find Faolan for me? I want him to be present for this.”

“I
OWE YOU
an apology, my lord.” Carnach was clad in his riding clothes, his blue cloak discarded on the bench beside him. Ale and cakes had been brought, but the chieftain of Thorn Bend was too full of news to eat and drink just yet. “I knew what you must have been thinking.
As spring and summer wore on your suspicions must only have increased that I had turned against you. I was angry that day; I made no secret of my fury at your decision not to contest the kingship of Circinn. I’ve seen Talorgen; I left the rest of my men at Caer Pridne and rode on to report to you. Talorgen told me I was almost replaced as chief war leader; that you relented sufficiently to appoint
him on a temporary basis only.”

“That was all Talorgen wanted,” Bridei said. “And you may well find that, if you want your old position back, you’ll have to stand up and contest it against a number of other contenders. Only my closest advisers were told of Faolan’s encounter with you. There have been rumors sweeping across all the territories from here to Circinn.” He glanced at Faolan, who had
a particularly relaxed look about him today, though his eyes showed his keen interest in what their visitor might have to say. “Tell me your story, kinsman. I trust your willing return here bears out my faith in you.”

“It does, my lord. It took me some time to work my anger out; to understand that your decision was a sound one, based on a longer vision than mine. I spent the winter with my family,
tending to neglected work on my own holding. Then I decided to travel to Circinn; to see the newly appointed king for myself and to take his measure. That put me in the path of certain surprising information. It gave Bargoit the opportunity to approach me with an offer; an offer that will quite probably shock you.”

“Go on.”

“Bargoit’s acquired a perfect puppet in King Garnet. The fellow’s weaker
than his brother was. Bargoit serves his new master in the same way as he did Drust the Boar, by whispering constantly in his ear and convincing him that Bargoit’s decisions are his own. And Bargoit has a new plan, one he would never have dared attempt during Drust’s reign, for although Drust was malleable, he was not a fool.”

“Bargoit wants to strike out on his own?” Faolan, though officially
present as Bridei’s bodyguard, was unable to refrain from joining in the discussion.

“Of course, he can never be king,” Carnach said. “But he can be a kingmaker, and through his puppet wield immense power in our region. When he saw me nosing about Garnet’s court, he seized on what seemed a golden opportunity to persuade me to his cause. He knows how much influence I have among the chieftains
of Fortriu; he knows I am your kinsman, my lord king.”

“I’m astonished that a man like Bargoit would not realize how futile such an approach must be,” Bridei said.

“I acted gradually.” Carnach was not meeting the king’s eye now, but looking down at his hands. “That is why I was absent from court so long, and unable to send a plainer message of reassurance than the cryptic one Faolan brought
you. Bargoit thought he was wooing me. He saw an opportunity to destabilize your rule, my lord, by turning your staunchest allies against you one by one. If I changed my allegiance, and I played along by letting him believe I was considering that, then it was only a matter of time before he gained the loyalty of Wredech, of Fokel, even of Talorgen. So he believed; I started to think the man’s mind
had become addled with the grandeur of his plans.”

Bridei’s head was reeling. The news of Bargoit’s plotting was troubling in itself, but there was something else here; something missing. “Why stay so long?” he asked Carnach. “Why drag it out until most of Fortriu had started to think you a traitor?”

“Information,” Carnach said simply. “I encouraged him to expose full details of his plot by
pretending to consider seriously what he suggested. That took time; I had to make it convincing. He believed me, and as a result I’ve come back with vital intelligence for the future. I have the details of Circinn’s armies, its strongholds, the will of its people; insights into King Garnet’s character that will serve you well at the council table. Names of
certain allies we did not know about;
plans for certain meetings at which you’ll want a listening ear in place.”

Bridei eyed him; it was at moments like these that he remembered why he had given Carnach the position of chief war leader. “A perilous path,” he said. “How did you extricate yourself? Does Bargoit still believe you a traitor to your king?”

“He believes I’m considering his offer, which included certain privileges for
me and my family. In time, I’ll let him know I’ve changed my mind.”

“You’ll have made a powerful enemy,” Faolan observed.

Carnach smiled. “I’ll take my chances with the weasel,” he said.

“So Faolan was right,” Bridei said. “You did make use of him to send me reassurance of your loyalty. I did wonder if the whole thing was in his head.”

“He made an unlikely farmhand,” Carnach said, grinning.
“You’ll wish to consider this before we speak further, I imagine. I can provide detailed information when you are ready.”

“These are grave matters,” said Bridei. “Bargoit’s ambitions seem unrealistic, but we need to discuss what you’ve brought us and the possible consequences of his plans. Not one of us wants war with Circinn, but if Bargoit and his new king try to undermine my authority and
turn my chieftains against me, I’ll be obliged to take decisive action. We can wait a little before we decide how to meet this new challenge. We’ve had an eventful time here at White Hill, Carnach. You’ll find this household’s news strange and disturbing. But that’s for later. You should eat and drink, then go to rest awhile. We are indeed glad to see you back at court, kinsman. You were sorely missed.
Faolan, you may leave us now if you wish. I thank you again for your part in this, which was bravely and cleverly acquitted. You need time with your family.”

When Faolan was gone, Carnach poured ale for the king and for himself. They were close kinsmen and, when alone, did not stand on ceremony. “Family?” Carnach queried.

“It’s a complicated story,” Bridei said. “Faolan’s undergone more changes
in recent times than anyone would have believed possible. But he’ll never lose that ruthless quickness, that uncanny nerve, that keen-eyed determination. Or the mask he can slap on to cover whatever he’s feeling.”

“Faolan’s quite exceptional,” said Carnach. “I saw him put to a severe test when I encountered him in Circinn. He passed it with flying colors. I believe he’s underutilized. If I were
you I’d be employing him not as a guard or even a spy but as a strategic adviser. The fact that he’s trained himself to kill at a snap of the fingers wouldn’t be a disadvantage. That man’s too clever to be wasted on spear-throwing and fancy horsemanship.”

“I
T IS STRANGE
,” said Broichan to his daughter, “how, in the light of such dramatic events here at White Hill,
the very thing you feared most, a public exhibition of your extraordinary skill in magic, passed with remarkably little fuss. Folk do speak of the child’s fall and how she was saved by a transformation. They mention that some of the guards saw a cat, and then a woman. Nothing at all about the queen of Fortriu and her sorcerous powers. Breda’s sudden death seems to have taken that right out of their
minds.”

“They are also afraid of you,” Tuala said. “You did speak up rather strongly in my defense. You surprised me.”

Broichan changed the subject. “I heard folk debating whether Bridei will make concessions to Brother Colm and his brethren,” he said. “The parties were divided on
whether the king and his druid would come to blows over it all.”

Tuala smiled. They were still in the garden, and
Derelei had now been joined by Saraid, demure in her pink gown. The children were sitting under a bush, collecting twigs in a little cup and talking in whispers. On the sward was Eile, watching over them, her face wreathed in dreams. Tuala and Broichan had moved a little way off to a stone bench where they sat in conversation.

“And will you?” Tuala asked the druid. “Come to blows, that is? Has
Bridei told you what he intends?”

“We’ve yet to speak of it. There will be no dispute between us. I anticipate our being out of step where this matter is concerned. I will make my position known to him. In council, I will support whatever stance Bridei decides to take. I will not weaken the king of Fortriu before his enemies.”

Tuala nodded. “He was afraid to tell you of his choice where the
kingship of Circinn was concerned,” she said. “He will hesitate to speak to you on the matter of Ioua and Brother Colm.”

“Afraid? Bridei? The only time he was ever in fear of me was the first time he clapped eyes on me at four years old, and even then he did his best to master it.”

“He was afraid of distressing you; concerned that you would believe he had deserted your common goal, to see all
Priteni lands united under the old gods. He felt disloyal even as he knew his choice was right strategically.”

“He wants a time of peace,” Broichan said, his tone soft and dark. “After the winter, I understand that. He wants conciliation. He will give the Christians their island. He has his family back; he is full of joy. That will make him generous.”

“Maybe so. But not so generous that he loses
his strategic grasp. He never forgets that he is king. Not for a moment. You should trust him.”

Broichan was watching the two children, deep in their
secret world. The harvest of twigs had been placed in Sorry’s lap; Saraid was making the doll pick up each in turn, examine it and utter some grave pronouncement. Derelei was laughing. “You realize,” the druid said quietly, “that at some point I’ll
need to take the boy away. When he’s older. His talents can only be developed to a certain point here at White Hill. There are so many distractions.”

“He’s an infant, for all his intrepid journey into the wildwood,” Tuala said, but she did not snap out a denial as she might once have done, for what he said had now begun to ring true for her. Derelei’s abilities were frightening. The forest druids
would nurture them to maturity while keeping him safe. But…”I don’t think Eile would be happy to hear her daughter called a distraction,” she murmured. “Saraid is good for Derelei. She lets him be a child. He needs that. He needs friends.”

“Up to a point. The stronger his childhood friendships become, the harder it will be for him to go away. Remember that.”

Tuala looked at the two little heads,
bent close in concentration. Saraid’s cascade of dark curls, her limpid brown eyes; Derelei’s pallor, his delicate neck like the stalk of a tender plant. His strange, deep gaze. A chill went through her, a premonition of future sorrow. “We need not face this yet,” she said. “We’ve only recently become a whole family. Let us enjoy that a little. Father.” She smiled. “It feels very odd to say that.”

“It feels odd to hear it, daughter. Odd, but good.”

(From Brother Suibne’s Account)