Part 36 (1/2)
”Uncle was concerned about your young hostage.”
Ruadh's lips pursed and he peered into the depths of his cup. ”Hostage?”
”The girl, Iseabal.”
”Ah, the little Wicke, you mean. How did your uncle know about her? He'd left Nairne-”
”Surely her capture wasn't a state secret. That sort of intelligence does tend to slip out.”
”To the concern of Iobert Claeg?”
”We delivered the girl to Halig-liath ourselves. We're concerned with her welfare.”
”Ah. Most people around here are concerned about Daimhin's welfare. Consorting with Wicke has never been popular with the Feich Elders. It makes them nervous. Well, you've good reason to be concerned, I think.”
Saefren tensed. ”Has anything happened to her? Is she well?”
Ruadh's laughter was false. ”My cousin happened to her. I haven't seen her for above a week, myself, though Daimhin sees her a good deal more than is probably good for her. Under the circ.u.mstances, I can't believe she's well. I only know she's not dead . . . yet.”
Saefren tried to ignore the tight, cold lump that sat in the pit of his stomach. ”Where is she?”
Ruadh gestured at the ceiling with his cup, which sloshed its contents down his arm. He seemed not to notice and Saefren realized he drank something stronger than cider. ”Up there, somewhere.”
”Somewhere.”
”Her room adjoins my cousin's. I understand that's going to change soon.”
”Can you take me to her?”
”Should I take you to her?”
”I only want to make sure of her health.”
”You were looking for my cousin. If I take you to the girl, chances are you will find him.”
So much the better, Saefren thought and caressed the hilt of his sword.
Ruadh did not miss the movement. ”Or, he could be with our other auspicious prisoner. The Abbod Ladhar is a Taminist, did you know that?”
”I very much doubt that. Ladhar is ruthless when it comes to their persecution.”
”Found one of their books on him.”
”One he probably lifted from the hand of a dead Taminist.”
Ruadh watched the firelight trace bright tracks in the etched silver surface of his cup. ”I read some of it.”
Saefren did not react.
”Have you, ever?”
”No. I've heard some of their . . . doctrine, if you will. But read, no.”
Ruadh merely nodded.
”The girl?” Saefren prompted.
Ruadh rose from his chair, only a little unsteady, and led from the room.
”I noticed a lot of activity in the outer ward,” Saefren remarked as they negotiated the chill halls. He didn't remember Mertuile being quite so cold and dark. ”Are you still planning on trekking into the Gyldan-baenn?”
”Have to. Daimhin promised we'd get them back their little demi-G.o.d.”
”Isn't that foolhardy?”
”Oh, but you forget-or perhaps you don't know-my cousin is fey. Kissed by the aidan, overflowing with Eibhilin energies sucked from his wickish lady-friends, his enemies, and probably every other living thing within a twenty mile radius. Cousin Daimhin can now have whatever he wants, which makes it his right, I suppose.”
That had an ominous sound even to Saefren's ears. He forced a chuckle. ”I see. Will he fly over the Gyldan-baenn, then?”
”Ah, yes. On the back of a raven, I believe,” Ruadh said cryptically and fell into a thoughtful silence.
Saefren could think of nothing more to say to him, and wished he had Aine-mac-Lorimer's aidan so he could divine the other man's thoughts.
Once on the second floor, they traversed the Royal wing. The widely-s.p.a.ced doors hinted at the size of the apartments behind the tapestried and paneled walls. At the end of the broad main corridor Ruadh stopped and nodded toward a heavily ornamented door.
”That's it. He's not here. He usually posts guards when he's . . . consorting with one of his Wicke.”
”Can you open it?”
”No key. Cousin wears it. Like a jewel. Around his neck.”
Saefren stepped forward and tried the door. Indeed, it was locked.
”Iseabal?” he called softly. ”Iseabal-a-Nairnecirke, are you there? Are you all right? It's Saefren Claeg.”
There was no answer and Saefren felt a chill of dread trickle like ice down his back. He put his ear to the door, ignoring Ruadh Feich's opaque stare.
”Daimhin isn't a very gentle man,” Ruadh commented almost absently. ”Never has been. Oh, he starts out that way-soft-spoken, caressing. But somewhere between wanting and having . . . it's as if a demon takes him. Demon-Daimhin. I've heard women call him that. Those were the willing ones.”
Saefren rattled the door with no result. ”d.a.m.n. Look, Ruadh, I need to talk to the Regent. Have you no idea where he is?”
”Behind you?”
Saefren turned. Daimhin Feich was indeed standing behind him, flanked by two armed men in Feich colors. He shook his head, made a clucking noise with his tongue.
”I come to visit my lovely guest and what do I find-she's attracted other admirers.”
”Saefren was merely concerned about the good health of your lovely guest,” said Ruadh dryly. ”He seems to feel some personal responsibility for it.”