S Farrell - Holder of Lightning

The way he said it lifted the hairs on Jenna's arms with a sudden chill that was not the cold air. "A few like you?" she asked.

O'Deoradhain nodded. "That's what I was trained to do." Jenna took a step back from him. "Jenna," he said. "Use the stone. Look at me. I'm not a threat to you. I'd take the stone from you if you gave it to me, aye. If you'd died the other day in my room, I'd have taken it then, too. But I won't harm you to become the Holder."

That might have been true; she could feel no danger to herself emanat-ing from him. Yet… "I don't know that," she said. "Even with the cloch."

O'Deoradhain smiled, which softened his rugged face. "You're right. You don't know that, and I'll tell you that there are ways to hide yourself from a cloch na thintri, even Lamh Shabhala."

"And you know them."

"I do."

"Then I can't trust you."

"Perhaps not," he answered. "But you can't survive alone. Not for long, and not with what you hold."

"I have those I can trust," Jenna replied with some heat, and- strangely-O'Deoradhain chuckled at that.

"Who? Mac Ard? The Ri and Banrion? That self-centered boy from your old village?"

"He's not-" Jenna began heatedly, then stopped, clenching her jaw as O'Deoradhain studied her, as the seal out in the river gave another moan-ing wail as if calling for a mate. "What did you want of me, O'Deoradhain?"

"Only what I told you: to bring you to Inishfeirm, so you can learn to use the power you hold."

"I have learned," she retorted. "I wouldn't be talking to you now if I hadn't. Three times someone

has tried to kill me and three times I've killed them instead. I can see with the cloch, see what people are feeling toward me. I can tell whether a person holds a true cloch or a worthless stone. I can draw the mage-lights down to me and fill the stone with their energy."

"And did you need to kill them or even want to? Do you know that you see truth through the cloch? Do you know all Lamh Shabhala wants to do with that power or all it can do? Do you know how to deal with the pain Jenna?" She must have shown something in her face, unwillingly, for he nodded. "Aye, that we can help you learn. But you must come with me back to Inishfeirm."

"I don't trust you," Jenna said again.

"I know you don't. But you're trusting the wrong people now."

"You don't know that."

"Unfortunately, I do," he answered calmly. "But I also know that you must learn things yourself to believe them. Let me start you on that path. I've done some investigation myself. Go to Night Mist Alley, just off Cal-laghan Street. Walk down to the third door on the left, the red one, and knock. And after you've been there and returned to the keep, use the cloch. Look at the ones you haven't bothered to examine yet because you trust them. And when you're done, if you think you might begin to believe me, then come to du Val again. He can tell you where to find me."

O'Deoradhain started to walk away; as if startled by his movement, the seal out in the river roared a last time and dove into the water with a soft splash. "O'Deoradhain, wait."

"No, Holder. There's nothing more to say. Go and see things for your-self and ask the questions you need to ask. When you need me again, I'll find you." He smiled at her. "I wanted to be the Holder, aye," he said. "But I think Lamh Shabhala has chosen wisely on its own." With a wave, he slid back into the undergrowth again, and she heard the sound of his retreat.

Out in the water, a dark shape slid away toward the lough.

Night Mist Alley was a dirt lane in the Low Town area. Even in the sun-light, it was dim, with the

houses staring at each other across a muddy strip down which two people could barely walk abreast. Children were screeching and chasing each other through the puddles, filthy and snot-faced, and the adults Jenna saw stared at the sight of an obvious Riocha and her two chambermaids out where the royalty rarely walked.

The third door on the left was indeed red though the paint was scratched and peeling, and the door itself appeared to have been kicked, the lower panel cracked and bowed in. Jenna motioned to the maids to remain in the alley as she went to the door and knocked. There was no immediate answer. She knocked again. "Just a moment. ."a woman’s voice answered, and a few seconds later, the door opened. A woman blinked into the sunlight. "By the Mother-Jenna?"

Ellia Tara’s daughter, stood there. Jenna nearly didn’t recognize her. She was heavy with child, one hand under the rounded bulk of her belly, face and fingers swollen. After her initial surprise, she smiled at Jenna.

"By the Mother-Creator, look at you," she said. "Don’t you look wonderful! Oh Jenna, it’s so good to see you! Everyone thought you’d died when those horrible soldiers came. And to think you came here, like us."

"Us?" A feeling of dread was filling Jenna. She wanted to rage, wanted to take Lamh Shabhala and bring a storm of lightning down on this house and this town and leave everything in flames.

"Aye." A possessive, triumphant smile lifted Ellia’s lips. She turned slightly to call back into the darkness of the room. "Darling, come and see who’s come to visit us. You’re not going to believe this."

A sleepy grunt came from the interior. Jenna heard the sound of shuf-fling feet, then a man’s form showed behind Ellia as she opened the door wider. The man took a step into the light. She knew who it was before she saw him, knew from the leaden stone that filled her stomach, knew because of the blackness that threatened to take her vision. Her world was suddenly shattered, crashing in crystalline shards around her.

Coelin.

Ellia’s arm snaked possessively around Coelin’s

waist as he gaped at Jenna. "Look, love-it's Jenna! Back from the dead! Jenna, did you know that Coelin has sung for the Rl himself. .?"

Ellia must have continued to speak, but Jenna heard none of it. She stared at Coelin. He stared back, slack-jawed, rubbing at his eyes as if trying to rid them of a sudden nightmare. "Jenna, I…" he stammered, but Jenna shouted back at him in fury.

"You bastard! You damned lying bastard!" Jenna turned and ran from the alleyway, her maids hurrying after her with wide-eyed glances behind.

"Jenna!" she heard Coelin shouting behind her, and Ellia's now-shrill voice asking him what was happening. Jenna fled, helpless tears hot on her cheeks, unheeding of the people around her, staring. She only wanted to be away before the temptation to use the cloch grew too strong, before she gave in to the temptation to get revenge for this awful deception. It's your own fault! she railed inside. You're so stupid. So naive and stupid. .

“Jenna!" A hand touched her shoulder and she whirled around with a cry, her right hand going to the stone around her neck, the radiance of Lamh Shabhala between her fingers already brighter than the sun. Coelin, Panting, took a step backward from Jenna, his eyes wide. He was shoeless and half-dressed, his feet muddy, his legs bare under his tunic. His breath was a white cloud around him in the cold air. He spread his hands wide, as if to ward off a blow. "Jenna, listen to me. ."

Her chambermaids flanking her, Jenna chopped at the air with her left hand. "You have nothing to say to me!" she shouted back at him. "Nothing! You disgust me, Coelin Singer. And I'm ashamed of myself for letting you. ." She couldn't say the words. Fury obliterated them.

"Jenna, let me explain!"

"Explain what? Is that your child Ellia's carrying? Tell me now-is it?" Coelin started to shake his head, started to speak, and Jenna lifted the cloch. "Don't you dare lie to me again, Coelin, or I swear it's the last words you'll ever speak."

Coelin gulped and hung his head. "Aye," he said, his voice a whisper. "Tis mine." Then his head came up, and his green eyes gazed at her imploringly. "But, Jenna, I love you. ."