Anne Kelleher - Silver's Lure

Catrione bit her lip, calculating the chances of Deirdre climbing out a window in her condition. It was exactly the sort of thing the other girl was capable of doing…before. But now, bloated and swollen and clumsy as Deirdre was, surely such a feat was impossible. Then out of the corner of her eye, Catrione thought she saw a flicker of movement near the door. She bolted down the dormitory corridor, but by the time she stuck her head out, the entire yard appeared deserted. Catrione cocked her head, listening carefully before she answered as softly as she could, “She’s been eavesdropping, apparently. She somehow knew exactly what we’re about.” Not to mention, she scarcely looked human. Catrione suppressed that thought with a shudder and took Sora’s arm. “You go back to Bride and tell her what happened and I’ll go see what this message is from my father.”

Sora nodded and Catrione hurried away. She was halfway there when she realized that in addition to her soaking sandals and bedraggled hem, she’d not stopped to wash her face or comb her hair or change into a fresh coif and clean apron. There was no help for it, she reckoned as she turned the corner into the outer courtyard where she was startled to see, in the light of the brightly burning torches, six or seven horses milling among unfamiliar men who nonetheless were wearing a very familiar plaid. Now what, indeed.

“Lady Cat?”

In the hall, she recognized at once the grizzled warrior who respectfully touched her forearm as she lingered on the threshold, her eyes adjusting to the smoky gloom. “Tully?” Catrione clasped her hand over his and turned her cheek up for a swift kiss. Tulluagh, her father’s weapons-master, was his dearest, most trusted friend. Fengus-Da never let Tully out of his sight for long. As the men crowded around the central hearth, shaking off their wet plaids, holding out their hands to the flames, Catrione glanced around, more confused than ever. There were too many for just a message, she thought. “What’re you doing here? Is something wrong?”

Tully shuffled his feet, frowning down at her with furrowed eyes the color of the watery sky. “Fengus-Da sent me to fetch you home, my lady.”

“Why? What’s wrong?” Catrione stared up at the old warrior.

Tully sighed heavily. He turned his back on the others and glanced over his shoulder. “May I have a word in private with you, Callie Cat?”

“Is it my grandmother? Is she sick?”

Tully put a hand under her elbow and drew her to a shadowy corner, out of the way of the servants scurrying to wait upon the newcomers. “It’s your grandmother, aye, but she’s not sick—well, not in the manner of dying-sick, anyway.”

“How sick, then, Tully?” Catrione stared up at him. “What’s this about?” She spoke softly but with enough of a hint of druid-skill that her words seemed to resonate in the air around him.

The old man’s eyes were steady as he stared back. “Don’t try those druid-tricks on me, Callie Cat. It’s like this. Since the season turned, your grandmother’s been plaguing him. First she started barging into his council meetings, into his practices, his games, even into his hunts. Then she started begging, tearing her clothes, pulling her hair out, moaning and groaning all the day—”

“About what?” Catrione stared up at the old man. Maybe the world really was turning upside down.

“He thinks she’s gone mad, Callie Cat, because all she’ll say is you’re not safe, and then she gibbers and howls and no one can get through to her until the fit passes. We can have you there before MidSummer if we leave by day after tomorrow.”

“Tully, I can’t leave.” Her Sight revealed gray mist, indicating hidden information. Immediately she was wary. “I’m Ard-Cailleach of the Grove this quarter. When I decided not to go home at Beltane, the charge was handed on to me. So till Lughnasa, Tully, I can’t leave, and certainly not now. Things are—unsettled.”

“Unsettled, you say? You don’t know the half.” Tully glanced over his shoulder, then stooped and spoke almost directly into her ear. “I don’t want to scare you. To tell you the truth, I was hoping I’d come and find you gone to Ardagh. Then I could’ve gone home and told him you were out of harm’s way.”

“What are you talking about, Tully? No place is safer than a druid-grove.”

“Callie Cat, do you think I’d be here for just an old woman’s ravings?”

Catrione narrowed her eyes. This sounded more like it. “So now what’s that trouble-making father of mine—”

“Your father’s not the one starting trouble.”

“Then who is?”

“There’ve been sightings of strangers in the high, remote places, and things found—weapons, clothes, equipment—all of foreign make. He thinks it’s the Lacquileans that Meeve’s so fond of, coming over the Marraghmourns a few at a time, hiding out, waiting for some signal, putting out rumors of goblins to keep people afraid.”

“The ArchDruid’s called a convening—”

“Maybe she should consider the possibility that there are no goblins but someone who wants everyone to think so. Your father’s worried about you here. He thinks the deep forests provide too much cover, and these woods could be riddled with them even now. He’s afraid they’ll have no respect for druids, Callie Cat.”

Catrione took a deep breath. “This is all news to me, Tully. We’ve heard rumors of goblins in the southern mountains. In Allovale, now the druids are gone, are the charnel pits emptying? Are the goblins being fed?”

“Aye, as far as I know. The old woman tend such matters now. But, Callie Cat, this isn’t about goblins, it’s about war.”

“I think what you’re really saying is Fengus-Da is going to war, and he wants me out of it. Isn’t that it?”

“No. He means to confront Meeve at MidSummer and raise the issue with the chiefs, but he’s not intending to go to war. He says you and all the sisters, all the brothers here are welcome at Eaven Avellach.”

Catrione blinked, her mind racing rapidly. From no druids, to an entire groveful—not as many as Meeve could muster out of Eaven Morna, of course, but impressive enough if they all crowded into the audience hall at Eaven Avellach. Outward show was everything. So was Tully’s visit motivated by real concern, or simply her father’s attempt to co-opt the White Birch Grove’s support, whether they meant to give it or not? “Maybe he’s right, Tully.” This wasn’t something she could decide in a blink. “But in the meanwhile, I can’t go anywhere, because among everything else that’s happened today, one of our sisters is—”

“Is definitely missing.”

Catrione jumped. Tall, stern, as composed as Catrione felt frazzled, Niona stood at her elbow, as unsmiling and unwelcome as Marrighugh, the bloodthirsty battle-goddess of war, who was already, apparently, awake and marching across the land. Niona had come in with the servers who were now passing trays of oat cakes and tall flagons of light mead, and despite all the frustrations of the day, she somehow managed to look as cool and calm as a cailleach was supposed to look, her apron spotlessly white, her coif perfectly arranged over her smooth hair. Beside her, Catrione felt like a small girl caught masquerading in her mother’s robes. “A word with you, if you will, Cailleach?” Niona nodded a quick smile to Tully, but the expression in her eyes was grim.

“Please, Sir Tully, eat and drink,” Catrione said. “We’ll speak more when you’re refreshed.” With a tug of his forelock, Tully seized the nearest flagon, and as he tilted his head back, she followed Niona a few lengths away, her wet soles squeaking audibly. “Have they found her?”

Niona shook her head. “Not yet. I’ve taken the liberty of calling up the brothers and we’re starting a systematic search—it’s everyone’s guess she’s hiding somewhere inside these walls. We’ll find her—sooner or later she’ll get hungry.”