Part 6 (2/2)
”d.a.m.n the fickleness of the animal!” swore Catahn. He pushed out of his chair and paced around the room beyond the hearthside circle. ”Did I not hear the Chieftains of these so-called n.o.ble Houses swear fealty to Taminy-Osmaer in the Great Hall at Mertuile? They heard her claims and proofs, saw her miracles-”
”Miracles,” said Taminy quietly from her couch, ”are transient things. Like dreams, they seem vivid at first flush, then fade to translucence.”
”Aye,” agreed The Claeg, ”there is that. And, too, what a Chief may pledge, his elder kinsman have a right to challenge. Many of those elders were absent that day, and they're a stubborn lot.” He leaned forward in his chair, gray eyes on Taminy. ”They wait, Lady. They wait for a Sign. From you. You've disappeared from sight, their Cyne is dead and his heir has vacated the capitol. As you say, they were willing to pledge to you at first flush, but now they waver. I speak to them of you, but I can only offer them words.”
Taminy nodded. ”You wish to carry away some direct message from me. Some . . . token.”
”Aye. Exactly that.”
”When you leave, I'll have something to send to each House. Will you deliver these tokens, sir?”
Iobert bowed his head, submissively, making his nephew twitch.
”Chill h.e.l.l take me if I don't, Lady. I'll see that the tokens are delivered.”
”Will that be dangerous to you and yours, sir?” Taminy asked, and seemed genuinely concerned. ”I think of Daimhin Feich. He must surely suspect where your loyalties lie.”
Saefren's ears p.r.i.c.ked up at this. It was the first time he'd heard the Golden Wicke indicate there might be minds she couldn't fathom. He caught his uncle's eye, but the older Claeg gave no indication that he was thinking similar thoughts.
”He may suspect all he wants,” Iobert said, ”but he won't press me, because he doesn't want to make an enemy of the Claeg. Feich would like to believe Colfre's death and your flight has changed everything up-that it's his game we play.”
”He may be more right than we're ready to admit,” observed Saefren, trying to rein in his uncle's unbridled enthusiasm.
”I prefer to think,” said Iobert, slanting a fierce scowl at him, ”that things are at least even. Our greatest enemy is, as the Ren Catahn so aptly puts it, the fickleness of the animal. That may also be our greatest a.s.set.”
”We've had reports from friends in Creiddylad,” Taminy said, ”that things there are . . . tense.”
Saefren Claeg grimaced. ”An understatement. The place is a powder barrel, needing only a spark to set it off. I've no guess as to how many Taminists there are to Covenanters in the city-it's not something you can get a man to discuss with you on the street-but your burn-brows are under cover.”
Iobert Claeg glowered. ”Saefren Claeg, your brattish tongue is going to d.a.m.n you. Speak with respect of the Lady's Osraed.”
”Sorry, Uncle,” said Saefren, and was not the least bit contrite.
Taminy smiled at him, surprising him to the core. Could she not sense his doubt, his skepticism?
She said, ”If you've no objection, sirs, I've a special favor to ask of you.”
”Ask, Lady,” said Iobert before his nephew could pa.s.s comment, ”and consider it done.”
”I've special 'tokens' to send to Nairne and Creiddylad. With winter coming our only way of communicating with the believers in those places will be the aidan-the Gift. I need to send two of my waljan to be with them. Iseabal-a-Nairnecirke must go to Nairne and Aine-mac-Lorimer to Creiddylad. Are you willing to take them?”
Iobert Claeg bowed to her in acquiescence for the second time that day, but his nephew wasn't willing to be so accommodating.
”Women? You want us to take on a couple of women in such harsh weather?”
”Cailin, actually,” said Catahn, returning to his seat beside Taminy. ”But older girls; seventeen or eighteen. Healthy, hardy . . . and exceptional.”
”And not afraid of inclement weather,” added Taminy.
Saefren fancied his glower was almost as intimidating as his uncle's. He gave Taminy the full force of it. ”The trip down the mountain is vicious. Cold, biting winds, chilling mists, rain. They'll be expected to sleep on freezing ground-”
”They know,” said the Golden Wicke. ”They had to come up the mountain to get here.”
Of course they had. Saefren could have kicked himself for his over-reaction. Now his uncle was scowling at him and the Osmaer woman was grinning at him and Catahn's great hands were flexing.
”If you object to my request, Saefren-”
”He does not object!” roared Iobert. He came to his feet, quivering with suppressed rage. ”That a kinsman of mine should utter such mealy words-should dare to speak in sly opposition . . . !”
Taminy threw back her head and laughed. It was a girl's laugh-light, carefree, delighted. ”Please, Chieftain Claeg, don't flog your poor nephew for his doubts. He's ent.i.tled to them. After all, he wasn't in Creiddylad with you this summer. He didn't see what you saw. He only heard about it after the fact.”
”He should trust what he hears from his elder kinsman!”
I was wrong, Saefren realized, my glower is nowhere near as intimidating as Uncle's.
Taminy shook her head. ”Trust is hard given in matters of faith. Saefren is loyal to you and to his House. For now, that's enough.”
”Aye, well . . .” Iobert Claeg settled another disgruntled glance on his nephew, then turned his attention to Catahn. ”We'd best see to the arms I brought up and ride herd on that young Osraed you put in charge of the pilgrims. I've family among 'em. Wanted to come up and study under the Lady.” He dipped his head to Taminy. ”I dare say there're some of us could use instruction in humility.”
Saefren hid a grin as he watched his uncle bow himself over Taminy's hand before taking his leave. Catahn made the same obeisance, then trailed the Claeg Chieftain from the room, turning at the door to fix the still stationary Saefren with a wolfish stare.
That was a disappointment. He had hoped for a moment alone with her, though he was uncertain why. Perhaps he thought she might perform some pretty petty miracle to ensnare him. But under the Hillwild's regard, his body moved involuntarily toward the door.
The Ren grunted and pa.s.sed from view.
”Saefren Claeg.”
He turned back to look at her. She was an unlikely visitation of the Divine in her breeches and leathers. She took several steps toward him, stirring dust motes into the pattern of light from the northern windows. They s.h.i.+mmered around her head, seeming to radiate from the pale gold of her hair.
She stopped just before him, hands clasped demurely. ”The 'Golden Wicke' will perform no Weaves to snare your soul, nor miracles to capture your approval. I meant what I said about your doubts; you may keep them as long as you need them.”
He marveled at that, covering himself with a chuckle. ”Am I such an open book to you, Mistress?”
She smiled. ”Deliver my girls safely, please, Saefren Claeg,” she said, and moved past him out the door.
Chapter 4.
Don't look at beginnings. Raise your eyes to the ends. This time is like the Spring sowing; it seems the earth is barren and the weeds mighty and the stones hard, but the end-time holds harvests and gatherings-in. Then, you'll see the issue; then you'll reap the bounty.
- Utterances of Taminy-Osmaer,
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