S Farrell - Holder of Lightning

"No bandages tonight," he said. "That's as it should be. A warrior should be proud of the scars of battle. There's no shame in them." He kissed her scarred hand. She tried to smile, feeling everyone watching, listening. "By the way, I was thinking of asking that young singer-the one from your village-to come to Dun Laoghaire and entertain us there. He has an excellent voice."

"Aye," Jenna answered, keeping her eyes downcast. "That he does."

"I wonder," O Liathain continued, "if you would have a moment to speak with me later this evening? More. . privately." Jenna looked up; his blue eyes pierced her, demanding.

"As the Tanaise Rig wishes, of course," she answered.

"Good." The corners of his mouth lifted. "I will look forward to that. In the meantime, I must speak to these good people I must leave behind tomorrow morning. Until later, then…" He kissed her hand once more, then released it, turning to the other Riocha. Jenna heard laughter, and O Liathain's rich voice starting another conversation. Someone spoke to her, and she smiled back politely, but she paid little attention to the words. She could feel the touch of O Liathain's lips on the back of her hand, and she was afraid to touch the stone around her neck.

The fete seemed interminable. Jenna wandered from conversation to con-versation, occasionally finding her mam, Mac Ard, or Banrion Cianna, but without a chance to speak with any of them. The musicians began playing again, and she was asked to dance by the Ri-a request she could not decline-then afterward by Tiarna Aheron. Coelin seemed to have van-ished; she could not find him in the crush of people. A stripe and a half later by the clock-candle near the stairs, the cold of the Great Hall was seeping into her bones despite the fires and the crowd and the dancing, and she could feel the old pain tingling in the fingertips and joints of her right hand. Jenna knew that she'd need to return to her room for more anduilleaf before the end, and she wondered how she could manage to leave without being noticed.

"Holder?"

Baird, O Liathain's man, was standing before her. Jenna could feel her face tightening as she glared at the man who had murdered Aoife. Her voice was frost and ice. "What do you want?"

"The Tanaise Rig asks if you would come with me. He said to remind you that you promised him an answer and that he awaits you in a side chamber to hear it."

Jenna’s stomach turned over and she could feel the acid burning in her throat. Baird had already turned to go. "This way, Holder. ." She fol-lowed him down a side aisle of the hall. He knocked on a door near the south end.

"Enter," a muffled, familiar voice answered. Baird opened the door and gestured to Jenna to go through, closing it behind her and remaining outside.

O Liathain was seated on a chair, his legs propped up on the stone flags of the fireplace, his boots off. He gestured to a chair next to him. "Please," he said. His voice was oddly gentle, almost tired. "It’s weary, standing and dancing all night, and I’m sure your feet are as sore as mine."

"Thank you, Tanaise Rig." Jenna settled into the chair, feeling the wel-come warmth of the fire wash over her. Neither of them spoke for several minutes. Jenna was content to have it that way, trying to think of what she might say to the man. When he finally did speak, his voice made her start.

"Have you reflected on our previous conversation?"

"I’ve thought of little else, Tanaise Rig," Jenna answered truthfully. "After all, you. . emphasized with Aoife just how important my answer was to you."

A look almost of pain played over his face in the firelight. "You are blunt, Holder. That can be an asset, if you use it in the right circum-stances. But at the wrong time. ." He let his voice trail off.

"And which is this-the right time or the wrong?"

He sat up in his chair, turning so that he faced her. "Here, we can speak openly, since there are just the two of us and my man holds the door."

"Aye. He seems to be a man who would kill someone if you ask him to do so, even if that person was entirely innocent of wrongdoing."

The right side of O Liathain’s mouth twitched as if with some inner amusement. "Innocent? Let me

speak frankly now, Holder. Did I order the girl killed? Aye, I did. Was the-well, shall we call it a lesson? — intended for you? Only partially. There was another who was even more distressed by the incident and it was mostly for that person's, ah, benefit, that I told Baird to do as he did. The girl was hardly innocent, Jenna. She may have been your servant, but she was doing the bidding of another. I happen to know that Aoife told that person's assassin where and when he could find you."

Jenna knew the shock of that statement showed on her face. "I don't. that. Aoife wouldn't have betrayed me that way." "It's true, nonetheless."

"Show me the proof. Tell me who this 'other person' is." O Liathain took a long, slow breath. He put his feet back on the hearth, slouching again in his chair. "I will. In time. When I know you and I are of one mind. Until then, you will have to trust me and trust my intentions. Did I order Aoife killed. Aye, I did. Did I do it only to demon-strate to you how far I would go to have you as my wife?" His lips pursed, his hands lifted palms up from his lap and fell again. "That was, I'll admit, a secondary consideration. But only secondary. I had Aoife killed to tell those who would harm you that you are under my protection, to show them that I knew more than they believed and that Dun Laoghaire has long arms." He looked over to her, the blue eyes reflecting fire. "What is your answer to me, Holder? Aye, or nay?"

"I…" Jenna's throat convulsed. She remembered Cianna's advice; it was all she had. She could not look at him and say no-he would kill her mam or Coelin. "You made another promise to me-that Mac Ard would also marry my mam and make her Riocha."

O Liathain nodded. "That he will do, when I put pressure on him. The Tanaise Rig will not marry a commoner."

"Then your answer is aye," she said finally. "But Tanaise Rig, I can't go with you yet."

His burgeoning smile transformed to a frown, darkly. "Why not?" "You don't know how Lamh Shabhala hurts," she told him. The truth of that statement made it easier to say the lie she had been constructing for the last few days. "Lamh Shabhala will open the other clochs na thintri soon-no more than four or five appearances of the mage-lights from now. I need to stay here until that happens-I /eel that. Lamh Shabhala tells me this. The mage-lights would not follow me as far as Dun Laoghaire, and the cloch tells me to remain here, near the center of Talamh an Ghlas. I must stay here until Lamh Shabhala opens the other stones. When that happens, then I will come to you in Dun Laoghaire. I promise that it will be no more than a month from now, when you will be holding a cloch yourself."

He was fingering the stone around his own neck, the stone Jenna knew Was only a jewel, no more. "How do I know you tell the truth?" he scowled. "Once I’m gone, you may decide that it’s safe to change your mind." we are to be ’of one mind’ as you say, then you must learn to trust what I tell you also," Jenna answered. "And didn’t you just tell me that the arm of Dun Laoghaire is long?"

"Indeed it is." He said nothing for a time. The fire crackled and hissed in the fireplace, sending a column of whirling sparks upward. Jenna moved her right arm so that the fire’s radiance fell on the perpetually cold flesh, the welcome heat easing the growing discomfort somewhat. "Are you aware that Tuath Connachta is gathering an army and that they may attack Tuath Gabair?"

Jenna nodded. "The Banrion gave me the news."

"Did she also tell you that the RI no doubt hopes for Lamh Shabhala to be part of that battle, if it comes to that, that he would love to see the lightnings of your cloch smash the enemy and send them fleeing for their lives back to the Westering Sea? No, you needn’t answer; I can see by your face that she didn’t. I can also see that the thought appalls you."