Part 21 (1/2)

The Dearg woman's cat-eyes widened and he half expected her to hiss at the thing. ”Red,” she said. ”The color of pa.s.sion . . . and of blood.” She held out her hand and Feich let the crystal fall into it. Her eyes followed the fall. ”You know, don't you, that 'red' in the Old Tongue is 'dearg?'”

In the moment he opened his mouth to answer, the red stone came to sullen life in the Hillwild Wicke's hands. It was a reluctant light-not so much a spark as an ember. But it was enough. Feich's heart leapt up in his chest and bolted. It took effort to hold his excitement in check.

”Impressive, Coinich Mor, but can you teach me to light the stone? To Weave with it?”

She looked up at him, golden eyes almost saucy in their regard. ”Oh, more than that, Regent Feich. More than that.”

Chapter 10.

The faithful lover hunts only the object of his Pilgrimage, and has no pa.s.sion but union with the Beloved. He shall not attain this object until he sacrifices all. That is, what he sees and hears and knows-all must be given up, so that he might enter the abode of the Spirit, which is the City of Light.

This Pilgrimage demands labor and ardor; and if we taste of this glorious reunion, we shall gladly cast away the world.

- Book of Pilgrimages

Osraed Gartain

They rode beneath the great arch when the light of morning was still slanting across the low hills. Shadows lay deep among the buildings of Creiddylad, yet already there were people on the street who looked up in amazement as the a.s.sembled ranks of the Four Allies rode through.

Saefren could not help but feel a swell of pride and exhilaration. He rode between his uncle and the Jura Chieftain at the fore of the long column. The other Chieftains rode one rank back, their standard-bearers just behind them, carrying aloft the pride of the Houses.

They drew people to them as they moved through the city. By the time they made the final climb up the long slope to Mertuile, they had a long train of citizens spread out in their wake, and when they halted in the great square that held the Cyne's Market, those citizens eddied and pooled behind them, murmuring among themselves.

Iobert sent Saefren to ask admittance for the Chieftains. He could see the unease and perplexity in the gatekeeper's eyes as he spoke with him-the way they darted again and again to the mounted mult.i.tude. But Saefren's words were mild; the chieftains wanted only an audience with the Cyneric's Regent. The man hurried away to deliver his message, leaving Saefren to study the sun-warmed stone of the castle's outer curtain and become mesmerized by the snap of banners in the sea breeze and the rhythmic drumming of surf against the base of Mertuile's rocky scarp.

The gatekeeper's return was swift. The gates of Mertuile swung open and the four Chieftains entered with their respective aides-de-camp. As was custom, their standards were carried to the top of the southeast wall above the city gate and flown beside the three already there-the Malcuim, the Feich and the Dearg.

Saefren thought it ironic to see the Malcuim banner still flying over Mertuile when there was no Malcuim in residence.

Feich did not keep his guests waiting long, but that he kept them waiting at all was significant to Saefren. Feich was still playing the politics of the game, still a.s.suming that his was a position of power or at least of control. While Saefren chafed at the delaying tactic, his uncle and the others seemed almost too relaxed.

Feich appeared at last, placing himself brazenly in the Malcuim throne. Saefren gritted his teeth, glad he would not be called upon to speak; he doubted he could be civil. It was The Jura who presented the pet.i.tion, and The Jura was ever the diplomat.

”We bring you greetings,” he said, his elegant voice filling the large room, ”from the Houses Claeg, Gilleas, Graegam and Jura.”

Feich gave his head a token nod. ”Your greetings are accepted, Mortain Jura. To what do I owe the honor of your overwhelming presence?”

The Jura smiled, teeth white and even in his fair face. ”As you can see, many of our people wished to travel with us to Creiddylad to show their support of our pet.i.tion.”

Feich's brows rose. ”Pet.i.tion?”

”Regent, we have come to enjoin you to return Airleas Malcuim to the Throne of Caraid-land.”

Feich spread his hands. ”What would you have me do, gentlemen? What powers have I in the matter?”

”You can guarantee the Cyneric's safety and his independence of coercion.”

”How can I do that?”

”We propose,” said The Jura, his voice taking on a subtle edge, ”that Airleas be brought to Mertuile under an escort made up from among these Houses.” His hand swept the group arrayed about him. ”Once here, he will be set before the Stone at Ochanshrine and given his rightful place on the Throne.”

Feich smiled. ”Airleas is a boy. I would yet have to serve as Regent.”

”We have no argument with that, save to propose that his Regents shall be three-yourself, as you were appointed by Colfre and approved by the Abbod Ladhar, Iobert Claeg and myself.”

Feich was clearly amused. ”You realize, of course, that the last time a Claeg and a Feich shared Regency the results were disastrous.”

”Surely, Regent, we are capable of learning from history.” The Jura's smile did not reach his eyes.

Daimhin Feich's gaze moved to the Claeg Chieftain. ”Are we, Iobert Claeg, capable of learning from history? Or shall we only repeat it?”

”I can only speak for myself, Regent,” replied Iobert, laying a slight and condescending stress on the t.i.tle. ”I want what is best for my people-by that, I mean all Caraidin. It is not best that the Throne of Caraid-land remain empty.”

Saefren swore Daimhin Feich actually flinched, but he did not rise from the throne he occupied. Instead, he leaned back in it with studied calm and folded his hands upon his stomach.

”For this you bring your a.s.sembled forces to Creiddylad-to make this benign proposal?”

The Jura shrugged, smiling. ”Forces? Regent, the people outside your gates are merely well-wishers of Cyneric Airleas. They are here voluntarily to show support for the young Malcuim's return and call for his continued success. I a.s.sure you, Daimhin Feich, that any fighting force we sought to a.s.semble would be much more formidable.”

Feich's jaw tightened. He rose from the throne at last, straightening his tunic with sharp, jerky motions. ”A triune Regency? Why should I accept this proposal? I am Airleas Malcuim's Regent by royal decree.”

”To show good will. To satisfy the people of Caraid-land.”

”You are not a popular man,” added Iobert Claeg. ”By demonstrating a willingness to work with other Houses . . .”

”I work with the Dearg and the Teallach-”

”Such as the Jura and the Claeg,” Iobert persisted.

”Surely, you can see the advantage of that,” added Mortain Jura. ”As you say, you are Regent. It behoves you to choose your allies carefully.”

Feich's pale eyes flickered between the two Chieftains' faces. ”You are undoubtedly right. It behoves all of us to choose our allies carefully.”

Fencing. That's what they were doing-fencing. The subject of Taminy was broached without her name ever being mentioned. Saefren's hand worked the leather-wrapped hilt of his sword.

You know each other's thoughts. Why won't you speak them?

”What of Cwen Toireasa?” Feich asked. ”You've not mentioned her.”

”The boy needs his mother,” The Jura observed.

”The woman is a Taminist.”