Part 17 (1/2)
That in mind, Feich rose stiffly, moved the candlesticks back to the fireplace mantle, doused the wretched incense and opened a window, letting in cold night air. Then he gathered up two of his personal guards (one was a Dearg, now, so as to send a strong political message), and went over to Ochanshrine.
Caime Cadder, he knew, was wont to wors.h.i.+p at night when the holy Osraed were tucked away in their private chambers or dining in the Abbis refectory. Accordingly, he went to the Shrine proper and was not disappointed; Cadder was there in the bottom-most tier of seats, eyes rolled back into his head, lips moving soundlessly, hands folded obsequiously in his lap.
Feich's lip curled. Perhaps that had been his failing with the smoky red stone-he had not made himself look ridiculous enough. Leaving his guards to hover nearby, he moved to sit next to the cleirach, pinning him with a gaze as chill as the water in the belly of Ochan's sea cave.
As if he felt that chill, Caime Cadder s.h.i.+vered and opened his eyes. He all but leapt from his seat when he saw who sat beside him.
”Regent Feich! What-whatever are you-?”
”I have it,” Feich said, patting a velvet pouch at his waist. ”But I can't use it. You must show me how.”
”I have something to show you,” Catahn had said. The air around him s.h.i.+mmered and danced with antic.i.p.ation and Taminy, looking up at him from Wyth's ma.n.u.script, smiled.
”Show me? Show me what?”
”If you'd come with me . . . ?” Diffidently, he'd held out his hand. Taminy had taken it and allowed him to lead her from the room.
They had pa.s.sed through the heart of Hrofceaster and out again into a courtyard snug in the windless lee of the crags. It had been showered with suns.h.i.+ne the moment they stepped from the shelter of the fortress and she had been delighted with the play of light on the water of a spring-fed fountain-water cascading from the mountain face that rose steeply to form the rearward wall of the court. Twisted pines sat here and there in huge wooden pots amid hand-hewn benches; wild vine roses twined up walls that glittered with mica and quartz. A few brave blooms even dared the wintry day.
”It looks poor now, I know,” Catahn had said. ”But in spring-”
She hadn't let him finish the apology, but leapt to throw her arms around his neck and kiss his bearded cheek. ”It's beautiful,” she told him. ”The most beautiful gift I've ever known. Thank you, Catahn.”
A second kiss deepened the stain of red that hid beneath his beard. He had barely spoken to her as they sat together watching the Sun s.h.i.+ft the shadows across the little court.
She sat now, blanketed, on one of the wooden benches in a small pool of suns.h.i.+ne-soon to disappear as the Sun traveled over the ramparts of Catahn's fortress. The roses were without bloom and nearly leafless, the conifers s.h.i.+vered in a chill breeze, but the Sun yet gave warmth and strewed diamonds in the spring's icy flow. The Ren's gift was beautiful and dear.
She had been in commune with Iseabal, ensconced now at Halig-liath, and mulled over what the girl's aislinn messages told her. The Gilleas had come to Nairne at her summons, had met with The Claeg and had been delivered his talisman. None had been more astonished than Aine-mac-Lorimer to discover that she was, in spirit, the key to that talisman.
Taminy afforded a smile for that. Her message had been well-received; The Gilleas had enlisted himself in her Cause and would travel with The Claeg to Creiddylad, but not before they visited the Jura, the Graegam, the Madaidh and the Skarf. With the strength of those Houses they would press Airleas's Regent to return Colfre's heir to the throne of Caraid-land.
She prayed for them every success, but knew that, ultimately, the Chieftains themselves must decide the fate of their Houses. She could only speak to their spirits, seek access to their souls. If they barred those doors in her face . . .
She looked up, sensing approach long before the heavy pinewood door in Hrofceaster's flank creaked to announce her visitor. She frowned. Odd, this visit, and unexpected.
”Such a marvel!” Deardru-an-Caerluel stopped in the middle of Taminy's courtyard before the fountain pool, her eyes on the cascade of water from the riven rock of Baenn-an-ratha. ”A garden in the heart of Catahn's fortress. Eyslk told me of it, but I could not believe. I'd to see it with my own eyes before that.” Those eyes moved to Taminy's face. ”A gift from the Ren, she said.”
Taminy nodded, smiling now, but still attempting to probe gentle fingers of sense into the older woman's mood. ”He wanted me to have a bit of home. I'm looking forward to seeing the roses bloom again.”
”He wants you . . . to make this your home, Lady. Those roses will not bloom until late spring.”
Unease fluttered in Taminy's heart. Deardru was overfull of something that clearly distressed her. ”Speak plainly, mam. Why have you come?”
The full lips twisted upward. ”Your magic doesn't inform you? You're not the Wicke Eyslk believes you, then.”
”I'm not a Wicke, nor does Eyslk believe me to be one. She knows what I am.”
The Mistress-an-Caerluel turned to face her full on. ”And you know what Catahn is. Yet you let him stay close to you.”
”And this distresses you? Why?”
”I have told you why. Catahn is not what he seems to be. Perhaps your Gift has bewicked him, confused him, made him seem gentle and meek. He is neither. Catahn is a man of strong will and stronger desires. He sees what he wants and takes it and what he doesn't want, he puts aside-forever.”
Taminy tried to fan warmth into her suddenly chill core. ”You speak of your husband-Catahn's brother.”
”I do. Catahn wanted . . .” Her lips thinned, tightened. ”. . . what he knew was his brother's by right. And he did not care whose suffering he caused in having it.”
Taminy looked over at the fountain, its water bubbling clean and cleansing from the ageless rock face. There was a message in that wonder of nature, but she was unable to fathom it. What had she said to Airleas-that strong emotion and the aidan combined with difficulty?
”I have not spoken of this to Catahn,” she said. ”I felt no need-”
Deardru laughed. ”Liar.”
Taminy glanced at her sharply. ”I felt no need to confront him with accusations or humiliate him by insisting that he resolve my-”
The older woman's dark brows flung upward. ”Your what, child? Your fears? Your distress?”
”My unease. I can't believe Catahn guilty of what you suggest.”
”That he caused his brother's death.”
Taminy nodded. ”That he deliberately put his brother in harm's way. I can believe that you believe it. That, mam, is what distresses me.”
”And it distresses me to see you-a young, innocent cailin-fast in the clutches of this man. A man I know to be guilty. Speak to Catahn-”
”Perhaps you should speak to him, mam.”
She shook her head, dark hair a cloud on the folds of her woolen cloak. ”I have spoken to him, child. Years ago. But you see, I have a child to think of. A family. To speak further would be unwise.”
”You can't believe yourself in danger from Catahn.” A statement of fact. Deardru-an-Caerluel did not believe herself in danger.
Still, she pretended, lowering her head and quivering as if near tears. ”If he were to find me here, talking to you . . .”
Taminy rose. ”Please, mam, let us stop this dance. You aren't afraid of Catahn, but you do hate him-that much is clear. I understand that you believe he has taken your dead husband's birth-right-”
Deardru's head jerked up, her eyes flas.h.i.+ng. ”He took more than that, Lady Taminy. Yes, let us now stop the dance. I'll tell you what Catahn Hageswode took from his brother-his place in my bed. It was me Catahn wanted, as he now wants you. And he had me, and fathered a child on me. Eyslk isn't Catahn's niece, she's his daughter.”
It took all of Taminy's strength not to thrust her hands over her ears, not to cry the words that shouted in her head: Stop! Oh, stop! Take back these things! Unsay them! But they could not be taken back nor could what lay beneath them in Deardru-an-Caerluel's heart and mind-the memory of Catahn's overwhelming presence, the galling hatred at his later betrayal.
So Taminy forced different words to her lips: ”Why do you tell me this? What is it you imagine I should do?”
Deardru moved to stand before her, to take her hands in a motherly grasp. ”Osmaer you may be, Lady, but you are yet a child. I cannot help but look at you and see my own daughter- Catahn's daughter-not so much younger than you. Again, I look at you and see myself all those years ago. I cannot stand by and see your life played as mine was. You think he is a convert to your Cause.” She shook her head. ”He is a convert only to his own cause. As to what you should do-I think you must free yourself from his grasp. Escape this place.”
”I'm not a prisoner here, mam, and Catahn befriends me in all sincerity.”
”You forget who you deal with, child. A Hillwild. A Hageswode. The aidan is strong in these mountains, but nowhere is it stronger than in the men of that family. They could confound the Meri, Herself, with that guile.”
Through their clasped hands, messages flowed. This is true, proclaimed one; that is not, whispered another. Which was which? Taminy, for all her attention to those messages, could not tell. Not now. Not here. Not under the barrage of Deardru-an-Caerluel's regard. She would need to put on Truth to determine the truth, but first, she must speak to Catahn.