S Farrell - Holder of Lightning

"Aoife!" Jenna cried. She pushed past O Liathain's sheltering body and stopped. "No. ."

Aoife lay sprawled on the flags of the corridor, bright blood streaming from a gash torn in her side. Her eyes were wide, her mouth open in her dying wail. O Liathain's tiarna was standing over her, his short blade held back at the end of the killing stroke, the honed edges dripping thick blood. "What have you done, Baird?" O Liathain roared at the

man, his sword now pointing at his companion. Jenna could hear footsteps pound-ing up the stairs toward them, shouts of alarm, and the ringing of un-sheathed metal.

Baird lowered his sword. "She intended to attack the Holder," he said. A booted foot prodded Aoife’s limp arm. "Look-the dagger’s still in her hand. She started to rush at your backs; I called, then I cut her down before she could reach you."

"No!" Jenna cried again. She went to Aoife, sinking down on her knees beside the body. She looked at Baird in fury, her right hand tight around the cloch, and the man backed away from her, his eyes widening in fear.

"Holder, no! I swear-"

"Jenna!" Mac Ard’s voice snapped her head around. Padraic was stand-ing, sword in hand, at the top of the stairs. Half a dozen other people crowded the landing behind him, Jenna’s mam among them. Mac Ard pushed through them and came up to Jenna. "Do nothing with the cloch," he said to her. "Not here."

Jenna pointed at Baird. "He killed Aoife," she shouted. "How dare you tell me to do nothing!"

Baird dropped his sword; the blade clanged discor-dantly on the stones.

"Tiarna Mac Ard," the man wailed, "Don’t let her kill me."

O Liathain stepped forward. He had sheathed his own sword, and went to Mac Ard, placing a hand on the smaller man’s shoulder. "Baird did as he had to," he said. "The girl tried to kill the Holder, and perhaps me as well."

"That’s not true!" Jenna shouted. "Aoife wouldn’t do that!"

"See for yourself, Tiarna," O Liathain told Mac Ard. "My man is blame-less in this."

Mac Ard gave O Liathain a dark look, then stepped forward and went to one knee alongside Jenna. She was trembling, her hand quivering around the stone, and she could barely hold back the power, wanting to unleash it at someone, anyone. "Calm yourself, Jenna," Mac Ard whis-pered to her as he knelt. "We both need to be very careful here." He leaned over, taking the

dagger from Aoife's hand and turning it before his face. The blade was long, the leather-wrapped hilt ending in a knob of yellowed whalebone carved as a twisted knot. "This was made in Con-nachta," he said, loudly enough so everyone could hear. "I know the hilt design-it's one they use in the ironworks of Valleylair."

"Then our cousins in Tuath Connachta have much to answer for," O Liathain said. "I'll give this news to my father, and tell him how they threatened my life and the Holder's."

"No doubt the Rl Ard will send a strong letter scolding the Ri Connachta in Thiar," Mac Ard responded, getting to his feet. He put Aoife's dagger in his belt; O Liathain watched, but didn't ask for the weapon. His face remained somber, but Jenna saw his eyebrows lower as he stared at Mac Ard.

"The Ri Ard will do what is within his power," O Liathain said. "This was a cowardly act; we can't condone it."

"Indeed," Mac Ard answered. He held his hand out to Jenna, still kneel-ing alongside Aoife's body. Jenna ignored the offer. Instead, she reached out and closed Aoife's eyes, then got to her feet by herself. She strode to o Liathain and stood before him, staring into his face. He returned the stare placidly, unblinking.

"I'm going back to my rooms," Jenna said: to O Liathain, to Mac Ard, to her mam and the others watching. "If anyone follows me, I will use the cloch. I, too, can do what I need to do." She spun on her toes and stalked down the corridor away from the carnage.

Baird shrank away to the wall as she passed. Behind her, there was only silence.

The Banrion first sent her handmaiden, who was visibly trembling when Jenna opened the door, holding a mug of anduilleaf brew. "The Banrion asks permission to visit the Holder in her chambers," the woman said. Her eyes flicked upward once to Jenna's face; otherwise, her gaze remained fixed on the floor, as if fascinated by the parquet pattern there. Jenna sighed.

"When?" she asked. "My mistress waits just outside."

Tell the Banrion that I'm only a guest here and

these are after all her rooms, not mine. She may come in if she wishes."

Jenna drained the mug of its bitter contents; the handmaiden curtsied and fled. A few moments later, the door opened again and Cianna entered in a rustle of her ornate, silken cloca, her torc gleaming golden around her neck. As Jenna watched, she took a seat near the fire. She said nothing, only watched Jenna as she paced back and forth across the rug.

He had her killed," Jenna said at last. "He didn’t care that he was killing a person. She was just… an illustration to me of what he could do- A warning."

Cianna continued to sit quietly. Jenna plopped into the chair across from the Banrion, not caring about the lack of etiquette. Cianna raised an eyebrow, but otherwise didn’t move. "I don’t know what to do now," Jenna said.

"We are talking about the Tanaise Rig?" Cianna asked, stirring finally. Jenna nodded. "I thought so. He departs in a few more days, and he grows impatient. Do you know why he leaves?"

Now it was Jenna who sat silent. She moved her head slowly from side to side, trying to keep back the headache that threatened to engulf her, starting to feel the brew send its welcome warmth through her body.

"Tuath Connachta is gathering an army on its borders," she said. "They have demanded erratic-blood payment-for the death of Fiacra De Derga. Padraic tells me you may not remember that name, but he was the tiarna you killed in Ballintubber when the power of Lamh Shabhala first came to you. The erratic is the excuse for their aggression, and my husband has already sent back word that they may wait for their payment forever. Of course, what they really want is you. ." Cianna stopped. She seemed to sigh. "Or more precisely, what you hold. We may be at war very soon, and the Ri Ard doesn’t want his son and heir caught up in that collision. The Ri Ard knows he must stay above feuds between the tuatha if he wants to remain on his throne."

"The Tanaise Rig wants me to marry him," Jenna said.

Cianna held her hands out to the low flames of the peat fire, rubbing them softly together. She didn’t look at Jenna. "Does that surprise you? If I were

Tanaise Rig, I would have made that suggestion to you, too-just as soon as I had decided that it was too dangerous to take the stone from you myself."

"He threatened to do this. He hinted that to make me accept the offer he'd attack the people I loved. Aoife was to let me know that he meant it. That wasn't her dagger-I'm sure of that. That man probably handed it to her, then immediately killed her. I wasn't watching; she was behind me, both of them were." Jenna couldn't speak. The tears choked her throat and blurred her vision, the headache threatened to overwhelm her. If Cianna had opened her arms then, if the Banrion had called to her, Jenna would have sunk into her embrace like a child searching for the comfort of her mam. But the Banrion only watched, wheezing slightly as she breathed and hugging herself as if cold.

"You could do much worse than the Tanaise Rig," Cianna said. "I told you before, marriage is a weapon. Now I'll tell you that once it's in your hands, you'll find the edge can cut for you as well as O Liathain."

That brought Jenna's head up and dried the tears. "You can't be se-rious."

"I am. Very much so.

"He killed Aoife."

"You killed Mac Ard's cousin De Derga and those with him. You killed two Connachtans more near Ath Iseal, I was told. And there was the assassin."