Part 32 (1/2)

”No, sir, you should not! Nor should you allow Caraid-land to stand ungoverned. We want the Hall convened and we want Airleas Malcuim on the Throne where he belongs!”

Around the impudent Eiric-Cearbhall-mac-Corach, his name was, and Feich noted it-began a low chant of ”The Malcuim! The Malcuim!” It was a name Daimhin Feich was sorely sick of hearing. He raised his hands over his head. ”I intend . . .”

They continued to chant and he tried again . . . and again. On the third try, they let him speak.

”Once my forces are rested from their last attempt to return Airleas Malcuim to Mertuile, we will be mounting another campaign to get him back. We had thought him to be at Halig-liath, but Taminy-a-Cuinn-who calls herself 'Osmaer'-has spirited him away from there into the Gyldan-baenn. He is now among the Hillwild in the mountain holt of Airdnasheen. I intend to go there and bring him back.”

They approved. He could see it in their sheep faces, feel it wash up from them. He drank in their approval.

”Further,” he continued, ”an emergency meeting of the Hall will be called to consult on the replacement of its apostate members.”

”When?” bleated several of the sheep.

”As soon as I have returned with Airleas Malcuim and have set him before the Stone. Until then . . .” He raised his hands against another outcry. ”Until then, the Privy Council will handle the affairs of Creiddylad. Take your concerns to them. I expect them to give you satisfaction.”

He stopped and looked down at them. They milled for a moment more, speaking among themselves, then the leaders of the group made signs of agreement.

”That is satisfactory,” said mac-Corach. ”For now.”

They began to disperse, to move back toward the outer gates.

Feich heaved a sigh of exasperation. Another riot averted. He'd turned to retrace his steps to the castle when something whizzed by him, narrowly missing his head. Ruadh cried out and drew his sword as Feich whirled to see one of the gate guards fall under the impact of a crossbow bolt. A bolt obviously meant for him.

While other men went to the aid of the fallen, Feich threw himself from the walkway and into the courtyard below.

At the bottom of the steps he doubled over, hands on his knees, to quake and tremble like a frightened child. It took him a moment to realize Ruadh was beside him, a hand on his shoulder. He straightened with an effort and pulled his clothing and thoughts into order.

”Ruadh,” he said, ”I will issue a new decree. As of this moment, support of Taminy-Osmaer is an offense punishable by death.”

Chapter 15.

In this Day a Door is open wide to the peoples of Caraid-land. The smallest drop of faith in this Day is as an ocean; the smallest sacrifice, a holy Pilgrimage. In this Age, if a soul sow one drop of blood in the field of faith, that soul shall reap the Sea.

-Utterances of Taminy-Osmaer

Book of the Covenant

”Who is it? Who's at the gate?” Leal hurried across the courtyard to Osraed Fhada's side.

The older man turned to look at him, his face bloodless. ”It's the Abbod Ladhar.”

Leal blanched and reached fingers of sense through the opaque barrier before him. ”He's alone. And . . . very afraid.” He glanced up at the boy atop the gate. ”Let him in, Ferret.”

The bar lifted and the gate groaned inward, allowing the Abbod and his horse to enter. Covered from bald crown to booted foot in a thick, black, hooded cloak, Ladhar clearly feared recognition. When he had dismounted and set back his hood, Leal could see he'd even daubed some camouflaging color over his time-bedimmed Kiss.

”I must speak with you. In secret,” he added.

Fhada merely nodded, made certain the gate was bolted and barred, and led the way into Carehouse and through its halls to his office.

Aine was there, her usually ruddy face pale and drawn.

”Anything from-?” Leal began.

The girl shook her head. ”Something's horribly wrong, Leal. It was as if she was cut off. I felt her terror and then . . . nothing.”

”Taminy?”

Aine glanced at Ladhar, her suspicion of him a p.r.i.c.kly thing in the air. ”Silent . . . and cloaked in sorrow. What has happened to Iseabal-a-Nairnecirke, Abbod? What has Regent Feich done with her? Is she dead?”

The Abbod seemed, for once, at a loss for words. He colored and paled in turns then said, ”As far as I know the girl is alive. I don't think Daimhin Feich will allow her to be killed. He believes her captivity will draw Taminy out. I suspect he also believes she has abilities he can either channel or learn. He . . . brought her late last night to Ochanshrine and tried to force her to Weave with the Osmaer Crystal. She conjured an aislinn of your Mistress, then dissolved it and refused to do more.”

Aine nodded. ”I saw that. Feich was furious. I sensed her terror of him.”

The Abbod busied himself with the closes of his cloak. ”Yes, well. He . . . returned this morning, alone, and tried to Weave through the Crystal on his own. Which is why I am here.” He raised his head and offered Leal a direct gaze that was somehow at once contrite and haughty.

Leal could only stammer, ”Then Feich has-”

”Feich has nothing. He raised an aislinn of the Wicke at prayer with your fellow . . . disciples-G.o.d only knows what it is they pray to-but that was all he could do.”

Leal was weak with relief. ”Then he can do nothing with Ochan's Stone?”

”I don't know. Nor do I want to know.”

Ladhar reached beneath his cloak and brought out a satchel of soft, black leather. He held it out to Leal, who took it in trembling hands and pulled back the obscuring flap.

Aine, now at Leal's side, gasped. ”The Osmaer!”

”I took your advice, Osraed,” Ladhar admitted stiffly. ”Whatever our differences may be-and they are considerable-I am certain you are less of a danger to the Crystal than Feich is. There are times I'm convinced the man is mad. Other times I think he's only completely amoral. What I do know is what I have seen-he can Weave. Well enough to control the actions of others. Well enough to catch and control the wind.”

Leal's brow knotted. ”Bevol's Aiffe is a crystal of great clarity and quality. Yet Feich could do nothing with it? How can that be?”

”I don't know. Perhaps your Mistress blocked him. I only know I don't want him or his Wickish mistress to lay a finger on the Osmaer. I fear they'd destroy it. I give it into your care in the hope that you can protect it better than I can. It would be much too easy for Feich to find it at Ochanshrine.”

Fhada twitched. ”He doesn't suspect-”

”No, Osraed, he suspects nothing . . . yet. He believes I am his ally.”

”You spoke of his mistress. A Wicke, you called her. Do you mean a Taminist?”

Ladhar snorted. ”Hardly. She's a woman of the House Dearg. The Hillwild wife of a House Elder, but her only allegiance, I wager, is to herself. She somehow got Feich a rune stone-a hideously flawed crimson thing he calls Bloodheart-and she tutors him in all manner of . . . perversion.” He spat the word. ”There is something else you should know. Before I left Ochanshrine to come here, someone made an attempt on Daimhin Feich's life as he gave a speech from the battlements. Feich elected to blame the Taminists. Support of Taminy-a-Cuinn is now punishable by death. Or will be when the Privy Council ratifies Feich's most recent ban.”