S Farrell - Holder of Lightning

Instead she forced herself to smile, to lift up and give her mam another kiss and place her own hands on Maeve's stomach. Inside, there is life. A brother, or a sister. .

"I trust him, Jenna," Maeve said. "I love him."

Her face was so peaceful and content that Jenna nodded. "I know," she said.

Jenna didn't see Coelin after his singing. She heard through Aoife that he'd left the keep late that evening, and that he had asked after her. She thought he might send word the next day; he didn't. The mage-lights came again that night, and after taking in their power, she was too ex-hausted to care about anything but fixing a brew of the anduilleaf to blunt the pain. At least, that was what she told herself.

More Riocha were arriving at the Keep each day as word spread that Lamh Shabhala had a Holder and that she was in Lar Bhaile. Most of them wore the green and brown of Tuath Gabair, though there were a few with the red and white of Tuath Airgialla, or the blue and black of Tuath Locha Lein. None wore Tuath Connachta's blue and gold. They were men, mostly, and a few women, with rich clothes and rich accents and bright jewels around their necks, and some of those jewels, aye, were clochs na thintri. She was introduced to them and as quickly forgot their names and titles, though she could feel them watching her as she wandered about the keep, staring at her, whispering about her, and pointing at her band-aged arm.

Waiting. Waiting for Jenna to give them the power they wanted.

"Jenna…"

She heard Cianna's voice as she walked along one of the deserted upper hallways, trying to avoid the eyes. Jenna stopped and turned: the Banrion stood at the end of the hall, with two of her ladies. Jenna curtsied and dropped her gaze as she'd seen the Riocha do in the woman's presence. "Banrion," she said. "Good morning."

"Please, no courtesies here. Not between us. Is it a good morning for you, or are you simply being polite?" Cianna asked. She cleared her throat, a phlegm-rattled sound. "None of them seem good to me lately. I think the new healer's a fraud, like all

"I’m sorry to hear that, Banrion."

Cianna laughed, a sound that ended in a series of coughs. "It’s what I expected, my dear. I’m not quite as stupid and self-involved as some would have you believe. I know that I’m deluding myself-I don’t think any healer can cure what’s inside me.

But I feel I have to try. Maybe, maybe one of them…" The Banrion’s eyes glittered with sudden mois-ture, and she caught her lower lip between her teeth. She sniffed and shook her head, and the mood seemed to pass. She waved her hand at her attendants.

"Leave me," she told them. They scurried away, glancing at Jenna. "They’re supposed to be here to help me, but they’re really just the Ri’s eyes,"

Cianna said to Jenna, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. "They tell him everything they see. Come with me for a few moments, before they rush back to tell me that the Ri insisted they return. We should speak somewhere where no eyes watch or ears listen."

Cianna took Jenna’s arm. The Banrion seemed to weigh nothing; her hand looked that of a skeleton, poking from under the lace of her leine. She led Jenna along the hall and down a corridor, through a door and up a small flight of stairs. Taking a torch from one the sconces, she opened the door at the top of the stair, which led into a musty-smelling gallery. There were shelves along the gallery, and on them were items, most cov-ered in gray layers of dust. Their feet left marks in the film of it covering the floor, and cloudlets rose wherever they stepped. Jenna sneezed. "Ban-rion, this can’t be good for your lungs."

"Hush," Cianna answered, tempering the word with a smile. "Do you know where we are?" Jenna shook her head. "This is the Hall of Memo-ries," Cianna continued. "These are artifacts from the long history of Lar Bhaile. Not many come here-my husband isn’t one for sentiment and history. He dismissed the Warden of the Hall, whose task it was to pre-serve these things and clean them, and since then the hall hasn’t been opened in years. Previous Ris, though, were rather proud of it and brought visitors here so they could view the artifacts."

"Remembering the past is important." She said it politely, wondering why Cianna had brought her here.

"Is that something you believe?" Cianna asked.

"Is it true, Holder, that you can bring the dead Holders of that cloch back to life and speak with them? That's what Tiarna Mac Ard tells me. He said he thought you had done it once, with an old Bunus Muintir Holder."

"Aye, that's true, Banrion," she told Cianna. She'd never told Mac Ard or her mam about the others: the Lady of the Falls and her own da. She still had Eilis' ring and Niall's carved seal back in her room. She'd never tried to bring Eilis back again, but she had talked to her da several times. It had been disappointing, for he stared at her as if he'd never seen her before, and she had to explain all over again who she was. The dead, it seemed, did not retain the memory of being dragged back into this exis-tence by Lamh Shabhala. "If I'm near to where a Holder rests, or if I touch something that was once theirs I can speak with their shade. At least that's what I've been told."

"Then come here…" Cianna gestured at one of the shelves. On it was a torc, the hammered gold incised with swirling lines that made Jenna glance at her bandaged arm. "Do you know why my husband chose to have that singer give the Lay of Rowan two nights ago?" Jenna shook her head. Cianna started to speak, then coughed a few times, patting at her mouth with a lace handkerchief. Jenna could see spots of blood on the ivory cloth. "This cough… it gets worse. Damn that healer. This is the way it is for us, Jenna. They let us suffer, me because I've already given the Ri what he wanted and now he no longer cares; you because they think you're weak and they can take what they want from you later, when it's less dangerous" She coughed again, nearly doubling over with the racking spasms.

"Maybe we should leave this room, Banrion," Jenna suggested, but Ci-anna drew herself up, her haunted, umber-circled eyes widening.

"No. Listen to me, Jenna. There is talk. I hear it, though they think I don't listen or care. But I do. They want you for one thing, Jenna, and one thing only: to open the other clochs to the mage-lights. They know that the First Holder always suffers more than the Holders who follow- they're content to let you take that pain for now, even though some of them intend to take the cloch you hold, once you've opened the others."

"Who?" Jenna asked. "Who wants it?"

"Some I know for certain," the Banrion answered. "Nevan O Liathain, the RI Ard’s son, covets Lamh Shabhala-he’s made no secret of that. My husband does, as well; he’s more ambitious than you might think. Galen Aheron, the tiarna from Infochla who arrived a few days ago, has said things that make me suspect he would try for it as well. And even Padraic Mac Ard… "

"You’ve heard him talking?" Jenna asked, her eyes narrowing. "Tiarna Mac Ard?"

Cianna shook her head. "No, in truth, though I think that’s why the Ri called for the song, because he knew that Mac Ard had said nothing to you regarding his ancestors’ history with Lamh Shabhala. The Ri is always careful with Mac Ard, because he knows that a Mac Ard was once Ri and that Padraic could contend for the throne of Tuath Gabair. My husband and Padraic aren’t enemies, but they also aren’t entirely allies. Mac Ard’s said nothing against you that I’ve heard, but when he rode away from the keep weeks ago, when the mage-lights first came, I know he was eager to find the cloch. And if you were. ." Cianna paused. Coughed.". . no longer the Holder, aye, I believe he would try for the cloch himself."

Jenna’s right hand, the fingers stiff and painful to move, closed around Lamh Shabhala on its necklace. Cianna noticed the gesture, and her fin-gers touched Jenna’s. "Your skin there is so cold and so hard, like the scales of a snake." She touched her cheek. "And so warm and smooth here." The Banrion smiled gently. "You’re so young to carry such a bur-den, Jenna. But I was a cycle and more younger when I was sent to marry the Ri and was a mam by the time I was your age. Women often carry their burdens early." She smiled again. "And long."