Edith Pattou: Fire Arrow

In the letter, Uncle Amrys said the sickness had come on Masha suddenly, and no manner of treatment had helped.

Brie felt a spasm of impatience. She did not want to delay her quest. Then she was suddenly uneasy. Was Collun indeed right? Was this thing, this hatred, poisoning her? Of course she must go to Masha.

Bidding the messenger farewell, Brie urged the Ellyl horse into a brisk trot. "Well, I guess we're going home, Ciaran."

At least, she thought with another pang of guilt, she would not be drawn far off course. Dun Slieve lay on the same northern road she had chosen to travel to Dungal.

***

When the fortifications of Dun Slieve came into sight, Brie felt a mixture of pleasure and apprehension. She knew that her aunt and uncle disapproved of her and felt that roaming the countryside was ill-befitting a highborn maiden of Eirren. Brie no longer affected the appearance of a boy, at least, having let her hair grow and return to its natural golden color, instead of staining it with black walnut leaves as she had before. She did, however, still wear breeches, finding them more comfortable than dresses.

After Conall's death, Brie's uncle Amrys had taken over Dun Slieve. Amrys and his wife, Rainne, had urged Brie to stay and make her home with them, but Brie had refused, explaining that she would have no ease until her father's murderers were dead. Periodically she had sent word through messengers to her aunt and uncle, letting them know she was well.

She could see the dun now, rising above the trees. She felt a twisting in her stomach at the sight of it.

Brie's had not been a happy childhood. She had lost her mother at birth and had been raised by a father who would have preferred a son. But here she was, and it was an odd feeling to be once more at the entrance to the home where she had grown from infant to girl. She guided Ciaran to the gate.

Brie was met by one of her uncle's serving men, who escorted her to her aunt. Rainne gave Brie a quick, affectionate hug, then hurried her along to Masha's room. "She's been asking for you, every day."

"What happened?" Brie asked her aunt as they strode through the halls.

"It was sudden. I found her lying on the floor of her room, clutching at her stomach and throat, in terrible pain. I thought she was dying. I got her to bed and called the healer.

"He worked over her and the crisis seemed to pass, but instead of healing, every day she seems to get a little worse. She does not speak—at least not in words we understand. Except your name, which she calls out insistently." Aunt Rainne opened the door to Masha's room, letting Brie go in ahead of her.

Masha's face had always been thin, but now, as she gazed down at it, Brie felt if she were to lay the palm of her hand over it, the whole of Masha's face would be covered. All of her body was shrunken, caved in on itself.

Masha's eyes burned bright in the wasted face. They stared up at Brie.

Not knowing if Masha was aware of her or not, Brie took the woman's emaciated hand in hers. Masha's eyes suddenly closed and she appeared to drift into sleep, a look almost of relief on her face.

Leaving Masha in peace, Aunt Rainne showed Brie to her old room. It felt strange to Brie: small and lifeless. And suffocating. As Rainne bustled about, stripping the bed of musty linens and calling to a serving maid for fresh, Brie crossed to the small window and pulled aside the tapestry. She wondered with a grin what her aunt and uncle would think if she slept in the dun gardens.

***

"What does the healer say? Can he not discover the cause of Masha's sickness?" Brie asked as they sat down to dinner.

Aunt Rainne shook her head. "I fear he is not as experienced as he might be."

"How long does he think she has to live?"

"He is surprised she is still alive at all," answered Aunt Rainne. "I wondered if she was waiting for you."

"Rainne has it in her head Masha has something to tell you," said Brie's uncle, "although it seems highly unlikely to me." He cleared his throat. "Now, Breigit, you have been away from Dun Slieve for a long time, and I hope now that you have returned you will settle in and make your home here. I fear your education has been sorely neglected, and I should be happy to take on the task of tutoring you in the many..."

Brie stared into her bowl of barley-mutton soup, her stomach tightening.

"Not now, Amrys," said Aunt Rainne, her eyes on Brie. "There is plenty of time to discuss Breigit's future. Let her eat in peace."

"But I was only suggesting that—"

"Did you know, Breigit," Rainne said, firmly interrupting her husband, "that Corwin, the daughter of Lord Darrfed, has married the boy Dalmen of Dun Treane?"

"Not that skinny fellow with the squint?"

"The very one."

"And whatever became of the maidservant Verena who had such a lovely voice?"

"She married a bard and they travel together now."

A disgruntled Uncle Amrys called for more soup while Brie and Rainne exchanged gossip. Finally, as they were served dessert, Rainne took pity on him, saying, "Amrys, tell Breigit of your newest acquisition."

He brightened immediately. "Ah, yes, it is an exceedingly handsome leather-bound edition of a lay from the second cycle of the coulin, as rendered by the poet..."

Tired from her travels that day, Brie stifled a yawn, trying hard to appear interested in her uncle's words. Amrys was a scholar and an enthusiastic collector of books. It was said that he had the finest collection outside Temair, especially of books on bird lore, which was his special area of interest.

As he droned on about a book on purple martins, Brie thought longingly of her bed.

***

Brie went to Masha the next morning, and again the bright eyes seemed to focus on her. A ghost of a smile appeared on the thin lips. Brie took Masha's hand.

Gradually the sick woman's eyes drifted shut and her breathing grew regular. Thinking Masha asleep, Brie started to withdraw her hand, but Masha's thin hand held hers with surprising strength. Masha muttered something sounding like "caroo teeth."

Brie squeezed Masha's hand. Soon after, Masha slept.

At the midday meal Brie asked her aunt and uncle about her mother's family. After Aideen's death, Brie's father had been too torn by grief to speak of his wife and her people to the daughter she had left behind. The only relative of Aideen's Brie had met was a distant cousin, a boy, who had spent a year with them as a sort of squire to her father, Conall. At first Conall had been ill-pleased at the unannounced appearance of this cousin, but he was soon impressed with the boy's athleticism and his self-confidence. His name had been Balor, and Brie remembered looking up to him. She also remembered feeling grateful that this handsome cousin distracted her father, however briefly, from pressing Brie in her endless lessons in archery, swordplay, and all the rest he would have expected from the son he did not have. After he left Dun Slieve, however, Balor had not kept in touch, and Brie knew of no one else in Aideen's family.

"Aideen didn't have much of a family," Uncle Amrys told her. "Just her mother, Hudag—your grandmother. Hudag was a widow, lived in a village not far from Temair. She didn't visit much, and not at all after Aideen's death. I don't think they got on well."

Brie's aunt laughed. "Aideen always said her mother bored her to tears. The only things she cared about were needlework and that little dog of hers."

"Is Hudag still alive?" Brie asked.

"No. We got word several years ago that she had died," Uncle Amrys said. "They sent along her things. The dog died a few days before she did."

"Your mother had a grandmother; I think Aideen was closer to her than to Hudag," said Aunt Rainne.

"What was her name?"

"Seila," Uncle Amrys said. "I recall that my brother did not care for her."