Part 50 (1/2)
He raised his eyes to the fortress and swept a gesture at it with one hand. ”Behold, the gates of Hrofceaster open. Let us go to our parley.”
Catahn to her right, Wyth Arundel and Saefren Claeg to her left, Taminy met Daimhin Feich before the gates of Hrofceaster.
It was an oppressive morning-gray mist riding low over the clearing with trailing skirts, draping bits of them in tree and bush, entangling the battlements. The damp air reeked of ash.
Feich came alone, or nearly so. He left his cousin and the Deasach several yards behind him before a phalanx of Feich men. Now, in what he surely perceived as his moment of power, he did not smile or swagger. His pale eyes were alert, sharp as shards of crystal, his expression sober.
He came to stand before Taminy, only then allowing a smile to pa.s.s over his lips.
”Lady,” he said, ”are you ready to surrender yourself to me?”
”Where are they?”
”My hostages?” He waved a hand above his head and the line of men behind him parted to allow the four hostages to move forward. They might have been sleep-walking-heads bowed, eyes glazed, feet shuffling through the snow.
Taminy wondered again at how Feich managed to control them so, though his attention seemed to be fully on herself. A boiling pot, Saefren had called him, and she knew him to be conflicted, a man of sometimes frenetic thought. That didn't tally with the discipline necessary to Weave as he had.
She thought again of the Dearg woman and her inyx-laden sleeping potion, of the Deasach Banarigh and her sharing of her Gift of Sight. It was possible that Daimhin Feich was not the only Weaver at work here-that he was using one or both of them to amplify his powers. It was possible, but failed to explain why she could not smother his power at the source.
The Deasach woman had the Sight, even as Saefren had noted. She was not using it now, and Taminy sensed nothing from her but bristling hatred and antic.i.p.ation. The Dearg woman was nowhere in sight.
The hostages had stopped now, Airleas, Aine and Leal forming an uneven line to Feich's right. They were definitely mesmerized, looking like a set of particularly life-like scarecrows propped in a farmer's vegetable garden. Iseabal remained beside Banarigh Lilias, her blue eyes fixed on nothing.
Taminy looked to Feich. ”Let Iseabal come forward with the others.”
Feich glanced over his shoulder. Lilias Saba had wrapped a gloved hand around the girl's arm. ”Iseabal is no longer my affair. You'll have to discuss her fate with my ally.”
Taminy didn't argue the point. ”These three are your affair. Let them go, Regent. Loose the Weave. I promise no one will work any harm against you.”
Feich smiled. ”Oh, I can believe that.” Again, he made an exaggerated gesture over his head with one hand.
It was as if a bubble had popped. The three drooping hostages jerked, then gazed around in confusion, realizing they were on the wrong side of an invisible line. Aine and Leal looked to Taminy, but Airleas's eyes were on Feich, a hatred born of humiliation burning deep in them.
”Welcome back to the waking world, Cyneric,” Feich told him. ”You are just in time to witness a most momentous event.” He turned to Taminy then. ”Here are your little ones, Lady. What will you surrender for them?”
”Myself.”
Airleas's eyes flew wide open. ”NO! Mistress, you can't surrender to this monster!”
Taminy shook her head. ”Airleas, I must. For your sake. It is destined.”
”No! I don't believe that. I won't believe it.” He whirled to face Feich, eyes flaming. ”I hate you!” He brought up his left hand, palm out, aimed toward Feich. A beam of emerald fire shot from the gytha there, catching the enemy between the eyes and flinging him backwards into the snow. The fingers of Airleas's upraised hand flexed and Feich shrieked with sudden agony.
Taminy longed to cry out, to stop the boy from giving in to his rage, but she knew, suddenly, she could not. This was the moment of testing-for both of them. She would not-could not-provide external controls for his aidan or his anger. She could only protect Feich from the results.
Reluctantly, Taminy held up her own hand, ready to intercede, and wondered if it meant anything to Feich that neither his men nor his Deasach ally moved to protect him from Airleas's attack. Only his cousin, Ruadh, his face ashen with fear, did anything at all.
”Lady!” he cried, addressing Taminy. ”Lady, please stop him!”
Airleas stood over Feich's p.r.o.ne form now, face contorted with rage, hand clenched before him as if it held his enemy's heart. Only then did he glance up at the party from Hrofceaster, his eyes going to Taminy, then past her to where Gwynet stared at him, her face white as the snow about her feet. His expression went from crazed to stricken and he straightened, relaxing his hand. He subsided to his place between Leal and Aine as Daimhin Feich, choking and breathing raggedly, clambered awkwardly to his feet.
Feich's smile had vanished. With visible effort he slid it back into place. ”Weak. You are all weak. You could have killed me, just then, boy, but a moment of indecision robbed you of the chance. I have once more proved myself more powerful than any of you. And now, before all eyes, I will reveal a glimpse of that power to you.”
He turned his head back toward his line of troops and made a sweeping gesture with one hand. ”Behold, the Stone of Ochan.”
The ranks behind him parted and a woman stepped forward, bearing an open gilt box. Even in the mist and smoke, the gem it carried painted the clinging tendrils of brume rose-gold, glowing brilliantly, as if in the presence of a strong aidan.
Taminy felt a cold shock run through her. Did the Dearg woman have that kind of Gift? She might have doubted it, but the Stone didn't lie. She watched as the woman set the Crystal into Daimhin Feich's hands. The fire within it wavered momentarily, then flared again.
Only now Taminy realized that it was not Feich's tremulous ability that lit it. It was the Dearg who fueled the Stone; in handling it, she had revealed herself.
Much became clear, then. Feich's grand gestures were cues to the Dearg Wicke, for it was she who held the captives entranced, she who lifted the Sleepweave from them. She was the source of the disciplined power Taminy had found confronting her at every turn. Feich did not use her, she used him, hiding herself behind his immature and inconsistent Gift.
And I was powerless to block it, Taminy marveled, because I was trying to defend myself against the wrong enemy. The real enemy was invisible.
Now she saw, and couldn't help but wonder at the Dearg's motives. Was she in Feich's thrall? If so, why did she not work against Airleas when he attacked Feich? Or was it personal power she sought?
The woman was looking at her now, a smug smile on her full lips. ”Shall we Weave now, my Lord Regent?” she asked Feich. ”Shall we show them great wonders?”
He waved her off. ”I shall Weave. You shall watch.”
The dark look the woman gave him as she stepped aside was enough to answer all of Taminy's questions about her loyalties.
”Behold,” Feich said, lifting the Crystal dramatically above his head.
Behind him, his troops murmured, many flinching back a step. From Ochan's great Crystal a chaotic whirl of motes exploded like a festival fire show, painting the enshrouding pall of smoke and mist with carnival colors. Daimhin Feich himself was swaddled in an aura of paerie light and seemed, momentarily, to lift several inches from the ground. His men gasped and withdrew further.
Feich, his eyes gleaming, laughed aloud . . . and the light died. The fire show ended as suddenly as it began; the aura drained away, the Crystal glowed dully in his upraised hand. He gaped at it, then turned his eyes to Taminy.
”What is this? What have you done? What have you done?”
The Dearg woman was laughing, now, hands on her broad hips, head back. Her hilarity wound through the fog and echoed from the walls of Catahn's fortress.
”You fool! She has done nothing! I'm the one you should ask. Go on, Regent. Ask me! Ask me what I have not done.”
Feich glared at her, fury standing out in red relief on his face. ”What are you talking about? What have you not done?”
”I have not aided you, Regent. I have not guided your paltry powers and sh.o.r.ed them up and supplemented them. 'Behold,'” she mocked him. ”'Behold' what you are capable of doing without Coinich Mor!”
”You lie! I have power. I have great power. I have used it often since-”
”Since I tutored you? Since I held your hand and let you believe you drew upon me for your Weaving? Behold me, Regent Feich-the one who has been drawing upon you.”
His face was the color of death and his eyes transparent as gla.s.s. ”No. You lie. I Wove. I Wove. You've tricked me. You've siphoned off my powers somehow. Are you in league with her?” He jerked his chin toward Taminy. ”Are you one of her minions?”
”I am no one's minion, Feich. Least of all hers. I am in league with no one but myself.” She held out her hand. ”Give me the Crystal, and I'll prove what I say. I'll show you power.”
Feich shook his head and held the Crystal close to his chest. ”No. You'll not get your hands on this. You'll ruin it. You'll defile it.”