S Farrell - Holder of Lightning

The memory of Aron's declaration in Moister Cleurach’s chambers was a distraction to the pleasure of Ennis' roving hand. "And because of what happened today with the Banrion, her brother, and me, this is one of those times."

Ennis nodded. "I would think so, given the timing. I'd wager that this was the Banrion's doing to try to dissolve some of the tension." His thumb grazed her nipple; his hands cupped her breast. She closed her eyes, tak-ing a breath, and he laughed softly. His mouth came down again, brushing her lips. "Do you want to talk about this now?"

"No," she answered. "Not now."

"Then what do you want?" His lips touched hers once more, moist and warm, more insistent this time. She opened her eyes as he drew away loving the way he watched her.

"I just want to be with you."

"That's all I want, too," he told her. His hand had moved lower. "I would like that forever."

"Is that a proposal of marriage, Ennis O'Deoradhain?"

"It’s quite possible," he answered, almost teasingly. "But I also know it’s not what the Banrion or Moister Cleurach or probably even your mam would advise. They would tell you that the Holder of Lamh Shabhala should use marriage as a tool and use it when it’s most advantageous."

His voice had gone serious. His hand was still. "Do you think*I care what the Banrion or Moister Cleurach would advise?" Jenna asked him. "Do you think I need their approval? And my mam. . She would tell me that I should do what my heart says. And my heart says that I love you, Ennis."

She sat up abruptly, on her knees on the bed as she pulled the night robe over her head.

Underneath, she was naked except for the chain hold-ing Lamh Shabhala. "All I want is what is best for the two of us," she told him. "Is that what you want?"

He gazed at her. "Aye," he said huskily.

"Then you are overclothed," she said.

The Feast of First Fruits:

Street vendors appeared as if by summoned by magic. Booths were hastily erected around the main square of Dun Kiil, selling everything from hand crafts to potions. Street musicians, jugglers, and sleight-of-hand magicians stood on every corner. Bright banners were hung around the square and from the tessellated walls of the Keep high above. Carts groaning under the weight of apples, early corn, freshly slaughtered pigs-and new-brewed ale rumbled into town from the outlying farmlands. A sense of desperate gaiety infected the population; there was talk of little else. The Comhairle suspended their meetings (though Jenna suspected that the Banrion, Tiarna MacEagan and Bantiarna Ciomhsog still gathered to talk), and the lesser Riocha and ceil giallnai came in from the nearby townships, filling the inns and the taverns and swelling the population o Dun Kiil.

Jenna and Ennis moved through the laughing, shouting throngs in the street. As they walked from between the pair of standing stones that marked the entrance to the square, Ennis stopped Jenna and pointed. To their right, a juggler with a hatchet, flaming torch, and dagger wove bright, dangerous

patterns in the air. As they moved closer to watch, despite her determination to keep this a day strictly for merrymaking, the sight of the juggler made Jenna think of the choices she was juggling herself: to side with the Banrion and attack the Tuatha now; to go back to the Order and learn more from Moister Cleurach, knowing that the Tuatha would almost certainly invade the island; to seek the path of Thall Coill and the Scrudu, wherever that might lead. Perilous choices all, with their own keen edges ready to cut, and she wondered how long she could keep them all in the air before she had to choose one.

"He's good, isn't he?" Ennis said. Jenna started, then smiled at him.

"Aye," she answered. "He is." She dropped a morceint in the juggler's hat; the boy grinned at her and tossed the torch high, letting it spin several times as he struck the ax head deep into a small log standing end up to his right, jabbed the dagger point first into the wood alongside the quiver-ing ax, then caught the torch before it hit the ground and blew it out. He bowed extravagantly. Jenna and Ennis applauded, as did the small crowd that had gathered around to watch.

"You make that look easy. What's the hardest thing about juggling?" Ennis asked the juggler as he laid the smoking torch atop the log.

The boy chuckled and reached down into a large cloth bag behind him. He brought out three leather balls, juggling them high and slowly so that they could easily see the pattern. "There's just one ball in the air and two in your hands," he said as he juggled. "It's that simple." He stopped and handed the balls to Ennis. "Try it," he said with a grin.

"Start with two in your right hand and toss one of them high over to your left hand."

Ennis shook his head and started to hand the balls back, but Jenna laughed. "No, no, no," she told him. "You asked the question. Now you have to try."

Ennis grimaced. Standing spread-legged, he tossed the balls up in the air-right, left, right-and they all plopped immediately to the ground. Jenna and several of the people watching applauded laughingly. The juggler grinned. "You just have to remember that the ground always wins, Tiarna, Bantiarna." He reached down, flipped the torch up and caught it. The Mother-Creator designed our world so that when you toss some-thing up, it comes back down. That makes juggling possible, but it also Cleans that no matter how good you are, eventually you’ll make a mis-take.". He pulled ax, dagger, and unlit torch from the log and started the cascade again: ax, dagger, torch, ax, dagger, torch, ax-but this time they saw the dagger spin a little faster, so that it turned over one and half time starting to come down into the juggler’s hand blade first. With a comic’ expression of horror, he snatched his hand back at the last instant. The dagger clattered on the cobblestones of the street. "You just have to know when something’s about to cut you and remember to let it go," he said

The boy adroitly slipped his toes under the blade near the hilt and kicked the dagger back into the air-and suddenly he was juggling again Jenna and Ennis applauded once more, watching for a bit before tossing another coin in the boy’s hat and walking on. "I think you missed a career as a street performer," Jenna told Ennis.

"I think you just enjoy seeing me make a fool of myself."

Jenna laughed and pulled him close, hugging him. "I love being with you," she said. "I enjoy not having to think about anything for a few hours." She felt Ennis’ muscles tense under her hand. "What?" she asked.

They stopped. Ennis pretended to look at the cloth hung at a weaver’s stall. "I can tell you want to say something," Jenna said. "What?"

"I spoke to Moister Cleurach this morning, before we left."

"And?"

"He feels very strongly that you should come back to Inishfeirm. He believes that the more of the cloudmage discipline you can learn before the invasion comes-and we all know it’s coming-the better chance we’ll all have."

"And what does he think of the Banrion’s plan?"

A shoulder lifted his cloca. "He understands her position but doesn’t agree. No army’s ever come to Inish Thuaidh and conquered it. And no Inish army has ever left here to invade the Tuatha."

"No army’s ever had this many Cloch Mor with them," Jenna answered. "And no Rl Ard has ever put together an alliance of all the Tuatha, and if this one has… "

Another shrug. They moved away from the weaver's stall to the next, a potter's booth, bright with glazed mugs and bowls. Ennis picked up a bowl: golden brown swirled with blue. "So you agree with the Banrion. strike first before they strike us."

Jenna sighed. "I don't know who I agree with," she said.

"Attack first, or wait. You don't have any other options. At least none that I can see."