Deception's Pawn (Princesses of Myth) (31 page)

“With respect, Master, I dress like this now out of necessity. I’ll gladly tell you why I—”

He raised one hand imperiously. “Master Íobar’s son has told us all we need to know. We will send a messenger to your father, informing him that you are here and well. Until we hear from him, you will remain on Avallach. Edana, are you willing
to have the girl stay with you? If not, we’ll put her with the convalescents.”

I bristled, hearing how glibly my fate was being arranged.
“The girl,” am I?
I thought, eyes narrowed on the haughty druid.
You might as well call me “the bag of apples” or “the bundle of wool!” I will not be shifted tamely from place to place while I have a mind and a tongue of my own.

“With respect, Master, don’t trouble yourself over me,” I said, my head high. “I’m leaving your settlement today and Avallach itself as soon as I can find a boat sailing to Èriu.” I spoke rashly, my words forceful but ill-chosen.

“Maeve, no!” Odran cried, reaching for me. His father frowned but said nothing and made no move to restrain him.

Too late I realized what I’d done. In my haste to make that dictatorial man stop treating me like an object, I didn’t think of the effect such a public declaration might have on Odran. I thought he’d understand me: the druids would never allow us to remain together here, so why stay? I chose to leave, and hoped he’d hear my unspoken message:
You, too, have a choice to make, dear one. What will it be?

One look at his face told me he’d only heard my intended departure as abandonment, coldly done in the presence of so many others.

“Odran, I—I’m sorry,” I said. “I—I shouldn’t have said all this here and now, but—” I took a deep breath. “I’ve made up my mind,” I finished lamely.

“Just like that?” He sounded bitter. “I never thought you were this callous.”

His reaction stung.
Doesn’t he know me better?
“You misunderstand me. I want to talk to you about it, but not here and
now. Your teachers are busy men. Now that I’ve solved their problem of how to dispose of me, they must have more important things to do.” I turned to the druids. “Masters, Odran and I will part, but surely you can be gracious enough to allow us one last conversation?”

My request charmed a smile from one of their number who still had a few streaks of red clinging to his silvery beard. “How can we say no in the presence of so much eloquence? Go, Lady Maeve. Speak with Odran for as long as you like. We can use the time arranging your departure. You’ll need an escort—”

“She has one,” Odran said. “When she goes, I go.”

His announcement sparked a commotion among the druids. They took turns berating him for being so impulsive, urging him to remain and continue his studies, even flattering him when they spoke of the exceptional ability he’d already shown for learning their sacred lore. It was odd to see Master Íobar holding himself aloof from the discussion, and irksome to realize that once again I had been set aside to let the men settle matters.

Edana was also being ignored, and she liked it as little as I did. “Masters, you seem to be deciding many things for those who can make their own decisions. Have you also decided why you summoned me? Apparently I’ve slipped your minds.” She sweetened her barbed words with a humorous tone.

“Forgive us, healer,” said the one with the red-streaked beard. “You know how we value your wisdom. This outburst of young Odran’s is not the first time he’s mentioned leaving us. He says he’d rather follow your path than ours.”

“Master, if you’re hoping I’ll discourage him from that, I must disappoint you. Odran has a talent for repairing hurts
and easing pain. If he devotes himself to perfecting his skills, he will save many lives.”

The eldest-looking druid made a sour face. “Odran is a
boy
, a creature of whims and urges. Today he wants to be a healer, tomorrow a bard!”

“But he never wanted to be a druid,” I said quietly.

“What did you say?” came the indignant demand.

I did not shy away. “It wasn’t his choice to come here.” I looked at Master Íobar meaningly.

“Yes, I saw to it that my son came here.” Odran’s father spoke forcefully, unashamed. “Why shouldn’t I? Children don’t know what they really want any more than they understand what’s best for their future.”

“Maybe not,” I said mildly. “But how will we learn to become as wise as you if you don’t give us the chance to think for ourselves, to make mistakes, to
try
?”

Odran and I were asked to leave the great house while the druids and the healer conferred. I tried to apologize for what I’d just done. I needed him to understand that it was an accident born in the heat of the moment, but when I opened my mouth, he cut me off harshly with: “Why did you come here if you’re so ready to leave without me?”

“I don’t want to leave
you
,” I said. “But I do have to go while I can still do it of my own will. Otherwise they’ll hold me here like a gift for the High King. I won’t be treated like that, Odran!”

“Yes,
that’s
what matters to you,” he muttered.

Before I could speak again, Edana joined us. “There’s been a compromise,” she announced. “Odran, the Masters have consented to let you escort Lady Maeve to Connacht. Your father
will travel with you. While you’re gone, you are to think seriously about which direction you want your life to take. If it’s a road that leads you back to Avallach, you need to declare if you’ll study with them or with me.”

Odran was taken aback. “They were happy with this?”

“No one is ever entirely happy with a compromise,” Edana replied, smiling. “But that’s the nature of such things.”

“In that case, I know my answer now: I want—”

She stilled him with a raised finger. “No, Odran. I gave the Masters my word to reject you if you insist you’ve already made up your mind. You will use this journey to open your eyes, to listen to what the world tells you before you seize on a path.”

“But Edana, what if he
does
know?” I asked. “It doesn’t seem fair to put him through needless doubts.”

“You can’t speak for him, Lady Maeve,” she replied. “You don’t have the right to say whether his doubts are pointless or vital. Iron goes into the fire many times before it becomes a sword.”

I mulled her counsel.
I had no doubts about Odran
, I thought.
I was certain I loved him and wanted to be with him forever. He felt the same way—he told me so. Loving each other seemed like the easiest choice in the world. Now—neither one of us is so sure. Will this journey back to Cruachan give us the chance to save what we had—what we thought we had—the chance to give it all up, or the chance to make something even stronger and truer than what bound us together before?

I turned to Odran. “She’s right. Even if you end up finding out that your instincts were right, that you were fated to be a healer, something precious might be waiting for you along the road.” I took his hand and thought,
I hope it will be me.

C
HAPTER
N
INETEEN

Roads and Roamers

T
HE FISHERMAN WHO
ferried us to Èriu said it was the worst storm he’d ever seen. Master Íobar said that the man was lying to receive a bigger reward for his services, and frankly, I agreed with the druid. The sly-looking fellow had been eyeing my gold torque from the moment we met and throughout the voyage continued to cast similarly greedy glances at every glittering ornament we wore. I felt blessed that I hadn’t had to rely on such a person when I crossed the water to Avallach on my own.

Luck’s been with me so far
, I thought.
But when we reach Cruachan, I’ll have to make my own fortune.
I stole a look at Odran, wondering if what lay before me included him.

Before we left the druids’ settlement, I made a bargain with myself: I’d try to recapture how things had been between us when the crannog was our refuge and when I first revealed myself to Odran on Avallach. There wasn’t much I could do to accomplish that when we were making our way to the shore, but I hoped I’d have some chance of renewing our closeness
once we were aboard a boat. Above all, I wanted him to know that I’d never wanted to hurt him when I chose to go home. If I couldn’t make him understand, he’d be lost to me.

My wishes faltered and fell. As soon as we boarded the fisherman’s small craft, Odran took a seat in the prow and huddled there with his cloak wrapped tightly around him, acting as though he were alone in the vessel and the world. He didn’t say a word to his father or me, and all my attempts at getting a response from him were brushed aside with shrugs and noncommittal grunts. The only time he stirred himself willingly was when I asked him to keep Ea safe. He gave the little kestrel such a tender look that it filled me with envy.

The weather was bad, but not as bad as the fisherman claimed. Rain blew over us and the sea gave the small boat a rough tossing, though I never felt the least bit worried that we’d be upended. Even if my stomach kept crying for mercy, I could tolerate the pitching and rolling enough to hold down the bread and cheese I’d eaten before beginning this voyage. Master Íobar fared even better: The druid turned his face to the sky and drank the rain. He wore such a look of satisfaction that it was almost as if he were taking credit for conjuring up the storm.

If he had that power, he might have held it in check out of pity for his son. Odran was a poor sailor. He struggled to maintain his self-possession, but he was soon leaning over the side of the boat, violently sick. I rushed to take Ea back, afraid he’d be too overwhelmed to look after her.

“Master Íobar? Can’t you help him?” I asked softly, not wanting Odran to overhear.

The druid looked surprised, as if he’d been completely
unaware he even
had
a son until I told him so. Then he laughed. “He’ll be fine.”

I didn’t think so. “If you’ll hold Ea, I’ll see if I can do something for Odran,” I said. “Wrap a bit of your cloak around your forearm and—”

He pulled back. “I didn’t tell him to come here. Let him
be.
”

I had to submit to Master Íobar’s command. There was no way I could comfort and take care of Odran while I had Ea in my charge. I felt helpless and resentful. Master Íobar had changed, but not enough for me. He might regret some of his actions, but only because he believed he’d earned Flidais’s displeasure and endangered his son’s life by killing Odran’s creatures. He couldn’t see that some things we do are simply wrong whether or not the gods pay enough attention to punish us for it.

Our “host” noticed Odran’s distress and pretended to be deeply concerned. “Poor lad, that’s Manannán’s vengeance on him, sure as the sun rises,” he said, invoking the sea-god’s name. “I’ve seen grown men die of it. All turned inside out, they were, and squeezed dry.”

“You don’t look like a bean sidhe,” I said sharply. “Unless you can do something for Odran besides prophesying his death, be quiet!” I heard Master Íobar chuckle.

The fisherman looked sullen. “Who says I can’t help him? I’ve got the knack for getting the god’s attention when I have something worthwhile to sacrifice to him.” He stared at my torque meaningfully.

“This?” I laid my free hand to the thick gold ring around my neck. “You want me to toss it into the waves?” I made as if to remove it and do so.

“Oh, no, no, no, not that!” The fisherman grew so frantic, he nearly abandoned control of our boat. “A
proper
sacrifice has to take place at Manannán’s shrine back on Avallach. But he’ll save your friend’s life right now if I take an oath to give him that”—he jerked his chin at my torque—“as soon as I’m home again.”

I wanted to laugh out loud, but I was afraid that it would turn my own stomach upside down.

Master Íobar didn’t view the fisherman’s shameless, clumsy boldness so lightheartedly. “You will not go home,” he intoned. “The sea will rise up to pull you into the depths. The sky will break over your head and rain down fire to consume your bones. Fish will swarm around you as you drown, and you will remain alive while they devour your eyes with their teeth like tiny needles. All this and worse will come to you for your sacrilege.”

The fisherman quailed and shuddered before the druid’s onslaught of curses. “Master, I swear I never—”

“Liar! I can smell your rotting heart. I know your corrupt thoughts. You mean to keep the lady’s treasure for yourself and offer Manannán a pittance, if anything. Fool! You cannot cheat the gods!
You
should be the sacrifice.” He stood up in the boat and raised his staff to the heavens. “O Manannán mac Lir, lord of the sea, hear me! Take this blasphemer even though we all perish with him! Let your retribution fall upon—!”

The shrieks and howls and sobs of the poor panic-stricken fisherman were loud enough to blot out the sound of gusting wind and the grumble of the sea. He tore his beard, pulled at his hair, and tried to strip off his tunic to cast it overboard and placate the angry god. I watched in admiration as Master Íobar
calmed him down as readily as he’d horrified him. We sailed on to Èriu with no further incidents.