Challenge of the clans (18 page)

The harbor, Caoilte explained to Finn, was a fine place for ships to shelter, and there was clear proof of this in the score of craft pulled in to shore. Most were large, often with more than one mast. The shapes of them were widely varied, some with exotic decoration and elaborately painted hulls. One was long and sleek and seemed formed of polished iron. It reminded Finn of a spear point.

The town, Finn realized as they approached, was of an impressive size, and quite different in nature from those he had seen before. It was undefended, having no rath or walls. Its buildings were clustered tightly together along several avenues paralleling or running to the water. The buildings were largely made of stone, not wood. Square, rough-hevsni gray blocks stacked neatly together formed the outer shells and flat slabs of green-gray slate roofed many instead of thatch. The shapes were various, some larger structures being square. A number of smaller buildings—individual dweflings, Caoilte said—were simply cones of piled rock.

The trio rode in, passing along a central street between the rows of buildings. Most of the inhabitants

they passed were men in simple trousers and bulky sweaters of yellow wool. They were lean and sinewy of figure, their faces long and large-featured and weathered. They only glanced up incuriously as the newcomers rode by.

"Fishermen mostly," Caoilte explained. "They and the traders are the only ones who really live in the town. The rest well find here have no real homes."

"What do you mean?" Finn asked.

"Corca Dhuibhne is one of the busiest landing places in Ireland!" he answered. "Ships visit here from Alban, Espan, and even farther, come to trade or sell off contraband or even bring raiders here. Youll see some of the worst thieves and pirates of the world, lad. And outlaws, too, like ourselves. Oh, it's a most fitting place for us now!"

"Why do they all come here?" Finn wanted to know.

"Because the bay is a safe landing spot, and because they know they're protected by Mogh Nuadat, the chieftain of this territory. He's a ruthless man, it's said, and even great Conn of the Hundred Battles hasn't shown the stomach to come to this rough little end of land and challenge him."

They were just passing a large structure, square and featureless. But a number of men were hanging about its wide door and a sound of loud talk and laughter came from within. Caoilte reined in and the others stopped beside him.

"We've got to find ourselves some kind of place here," he told them. "This public house will be a good spot to start the searching. I can talk to the men and pick up word of anyone who might take us into service."

He cHmbed fi*om his horse and tied it to a post. The other two followed, though with less eagerness, for the men about the door were of very rough aspect and scrutinized the newcomers with suspicious eyes.

Caoilte led the way through them, casually shoving one out of the doorway, and the three entered the house. It was crowded with men who sat at plank tables or stood about. They were a varied lot in looks and

costume. Many were of types Finn had not seen before in Ireland. Some were very fair, with golden hair that rivaled even his own. Others were dark, with skin more swarthy than the Firbolgs, and smooth ebony hair. The dress of some was strange to Finn as well, usually colorful, sometimes gaudy. There were rich furs and fine skins, cloth of many textures and colors trimmed with gold and silver. Lavish jewelry winked everywhere, bracelets at wrists and elbows, tores and necklaces about throats, brooches fastening cloak and vest, and all manner of baubles woven into the elaborate hairstyles. Intricately worked scabbards often set with jewels encased the blades of swords and daggers with ornamented hilts, and precious metals studded belts and boots and harnesses.

The impression created by all this on the still rather unsophisticated Finn was so wonderfully textured, so exotic, so complex that he had great difficulty even absorbing it. He was content simply to let Caoilte lead for now. The Little Nut followed as well, but with great apprehension, peering about him at the peculiar crowd.

They worked their way into the room, edging between tables and around knots of men as MacRonan sought a place for them to sit. But Finn stumbled over a stray foot and staggered into a group at one table. As he was opening his mouth to apologize, one of those he had landed heavily against leaped up and turned upon him with a snarl.

The young man recoiled from the face that was thrust toward his own. It was not human, save in its general features. Its eyes popped fi-oghke from its squat head. Its nose was two pulsing nostrils and its mouth a wide, drooping slit.

"Are you looking for a fight, boy?" it asked in a guttural voice, revealing small, sharply pointed teeth.

"Just a drink," Coailte said quickly, coming up beside Finn and speaking in a calming tone. "We want no trouble here."

The being snorted and then turned away, sitting back down at its table. Finn watched it, realizing with revulsion that the others seated with it were as gro-

tesque, some even worse. The features of all were horribly deformed in different ways. Many looked reptilian, but the most awful were nightmare distortions of a normal human face, with eyes, mouths, noses missing or askew, heads flattened or bloated or deeply grooved across the skull. A few wore scarves about their features, masking everything but their eyes. What they masked, Finn didn't want to contemplate.

"That was a near one, lad," Caoilte said with relief as he pulled the stunned Finn away. "They are a touchy lot."

"What are they?" Finn asked, still looking back.

"Fomor," the warrior told him. "Pirates mostly. They raid the coasts or other ships and sell their goods here."

"Why do they look like that? Are they men?"

Caoilte shrugged. "No one knows. They're always roving. They seem to have no home. There are some ancient tales that they once ruled Ireland, but I've little belief in them. '

He found them a place at a table and they took seats. The primary occupation here seemed to be drinking, and Caoilte ordered ale for them from a harried serving man.

"I know about the Formor," Cnu Deireoil put in. "They did control Ireland once. It was the Tuatha de Danaan who destroyed them."

"So you say, " the dark warrior repHed in a disbe-heving tone. "Who knows how much of those old tales are true? The only truth I know is one I can see before me and jab with my sword."

"Is that so?" the harper shot back, sounding annoyed. "Well, I'm saying that those old tales are true, and I know there are a good many other things that might surprise you. You don't know everything, Caoilte MacRonan!"

"Maybe," the warrior admitted, eyeing the little man thoughtfully.

The mugs of ale were plumped down before them then by the rushed serving man.

"No free drinks here," Caoilte said, tossing the

man a coin. He lifted the mug, sipped the ale, and grimaced. "Whoo! But they should be paying us to drink this muck."

Finn sipped at his own cautiously. He'd become more accustomed to consuming ale during his sojourn with the Firbolgs, but that wasn't enough to prepare him for this thick, acrid, muddy liquid. He set it down.

A gangly, hawk-beaked man pushed up through the crowd behind Caoilte and slapped a hand onto the warrior's shoulder.

"MacRonan!" he exclaimed, grinning. "Is it you? Still alive?"

Caoilte looked up at the man and broke into a smile of delight himself. "Seainin O'Conchiiir! How long has it been?"

"Since we served that Ithian chieftain, MacNiad. What a time that was, fighting those bloody Emaan! But what is it youVe doing here?"

"Looking for a place, as always. Do you know of anything about here?"

"It's your good fortune, meeting me,' the other said. "I'm in Nuadat's household companies now. He's always looking for good men. "

"How about this lad?" Caoilte asked, nodding at Finn. "He's a good fighter, I'll give my word on that."

"If he's a comrade of yours, that's enough for me. We'll find him a place as well." He cast a doubtfiil eye on the Little Nut. "I'm not certain we can do anything for your other companion, though. "

"Don't be worrying about me," Cnu Deireoil assured the man. "I'm a harper. Just you get me into Nuadat's hall and I'll have a place for myself," he said, grinning, "I'm certain of that."

O'Conchiiir shrugged. "If you say it's so, you can come along. I'll take you up to the dun. The captain of the chieftain's companies will see to you."

The four left the public house, took their horses, and rode out of the village, along a path that led out along one of the harbor's sheltering points of land. The ground rose steadily to the tip of the point, which was several hundred feet above the bay. Finn examined the

fortress as they approached. It perched precariously on the very edge of a sheer drop, looking very tiny in comparison to the immense cliff face below. It seemed to be almost a part of the cliff itself with its walls of the same gray stone.

A three-storied keep dominated the great dun, and was surrounded by several smaller structures. These were defended on the landward side by three curving walls of stone a spear's throw apart. The only way to reach the fortress was through a series of staggered gates.

O'Conchiiir led them through the three gates under the watchful eyes of some two score heavily armed guards. Once inside the yard, he directed them to a large stable against the inner wall where grooms took their horses.

They had dismounted and started across the yard to the keep when another group of horsemen came through the inner gate. It comprised a man and a woman surrounded by a tight ring of warriors. Finn looked at the pair with great curiosity.

The man was quite short and very squat of build, his body hard and compact. His head was broad, with a low brow and almost no chin. Small eyes were set far to either side of a short, thick nose, and the mouth was wide and thin, like a scar across the lower face. The woman riding close beside him was, in contrast, tall and slim and elegant. Her beauty was striking, her skin white, her neatly plaited hair a shimmer.

She seemed to sense the young man's gaze and looked toward him. Their eyes met, and then they locked together. He felt a strange shock. She started as if struck, her own eyes widening.

The man beside her noted her reaction and turned to follow her gaze. He saw the rapt young Finn, and his eyes narrowed in annoyance. He slapped the woman's horse across the rump, urging it ahead at a trot. The action caused her to turn back, breaking the contact with Finn. He watched the company ride into the stable, out of sight.

"Who was that?" Finn asked, still feeUng the odd sensation.

"That's our chieftain himself, Mogh Nuadat, and his wife!" O'Conchiiir supphed. "You're blessed to be seeing her, so you are. It's seldom she leaves the keep. "

"What is her name?"

"Well, you saw her. You can almost guess it from that. She's the smooth-skinned one for certain, that she is. Muime is her name."

Chapter Seventeen

REUMIOM

"I've got to learn more about her," Finn said to his friends.

The three were perched atop the fortress cliff on the seaward side, watching a crimson sun fire a bank of clouds in its final, glorious act before sinking behind the ocean's rim. It had become a daily ritual for them to gather together here once their own duties were completed. They could be alone and talk freely.

'TThat's one woman you shouldn't be thinking about at all," Caoilte told him in a scolding tone. "She is the wife of Nuadat, and he is far too dangerous for you to be playing about with."

Finn had no doubts about the toughness or ruth-lessness of Nuadat's nature. In the days he had been in the chieftain's company he had learned much about the man. Nuadat had gathered to him a massive force of hardened warriors, many of them outlaws, criminals, mercenaries—desperate men with nothing to lose and

willing to sacrifice for the man who had given them a place.

With this power, he kept an iron grip upon his territories, held challengers from the rest of Ireland at bay, and exacted heavy tribute from the brigands who used his harbors for their landings. But though harsh and uncompromising, he was known to be a fair and honest man as well. His sword was always ready to protect his people, and he was a champion of their right to freedom. It was rumored that he one day planned to control all Munster province, breaking the power of the dreaded Emaan tribe, who had, with the support of the high-king of Ireland, long oppressed the Ithian and Eberian races there.

"I know this seems madness to you," Finn said in an urgent way, trying to make them understand. "Maybe it is. I only know I can't do anything about it. Something is driving me to know more. There's a part of my mind that's gnawing at the rest. I see her face in dreams. I hear her voice—"

"Her voice?" Caoilte said, breaking in. "And when have you heard that before?"

"I—I haven't," Finn admitted, clearly bewildered by this himself. "But I know it's her voice. I hear it singing faintly, as if she's far away. The sound of it wakes me. I've got to know why." He turned to Cnu Deireoil. "Please help me. Have you learned anything about her?"

The Little Nut had, as expected, easily obtained a position as entertainer at the dun. And as the common warriors were not included in the chieftain's nightly feasts, he was the only one who had seen much of Nuadat or his wife.

"I've kept close watch on her, as I promised," he told Finn, "but there's little to find out, I'm afraid. She's well guarded, and she stays in her own apartments high in the keep most of the time. When she does appear, he's beside her and as protective as a hungry wolf on its kill."

"Is he cruel to her?" Finn demanded with concern.

"No, no!" the harper assured him. "He's very gentle toward her always! Very loving."

"But couldn't anyone in his cx)urt tell you about her?" Finn asked more desperately.

Gnu Deireoil shook his head. "That's all a mystery, lad. I even used my harp's charms to persuade' the folk to talk, but they knew nothing of her past or her family." He paused, then added in a thoughtful way, 'Though I've had a strange feeling about her myself. There is something more to her. An aura about her, almost. As if—' He stopped abruptly and shook his head, saying quickly, "No, no! Never mind. I just can't tell you anything, lad. I'm sorry."