Dreamer's Daughter (23 page)

“I've wandered in that woman's dreams. They're as tangled as her hair, if you're curious.”

“I was and I'm utterly unsurprised. The twistings and turnings of just her conversation are alarming.”

“I believe you. So, what's inside your little book now?”

“Scratches.”

Uabhann rose. “Bring it over to the table by the window, if you like.” He shot Rùnach a look. “It keeps the sunlight lovers happy.”

Rùnach imagined it would. He took his book over, set it down on the table, then looked at Uabhann briefly. Bruadair's spinner of nightmares only watched him without expression. Rùnach cast caution—and his hope of continuing to breathe, it had to be said—to the wind, then opened his book.

The chamber didn't shriek, but he felt something shift. Uabhann peered at the contents, then whistled softly.

“Isn't that interesting.”

“Is it?”

He looked at Rùnach from the same ageless eyes Aisling had. “You don't have a clue what's there, do you?”

Rùnach leaned on his hands. “I'm guessing it might be a map of portals.”

Uabhann laughed a little. “Portals. Haven't heard them called that in years. Sounds like something Muinear would call them.”

“What would you call them?”

“Doorways,” Uabhann said with a shrug, “but I haven't much of an imagination. I like my nightmares to be fairly straightforward without undue fuss accompanying them.”

Rùnach would have laughed, but he suspected Uabhann was utterly serious. Suddenly, Uabhann turned and made a bit of a bow. Rùnach looked over his shoulder to find Aisling standing there just inside the doorway.

He was tempted to make a bit of a bow himself.

He wondered if she would bloody his nose if he did so, but decided that he would chance it. He made her a low, courtly bow, then hoped he wouldn't straighten to find her fist in his face. Instead, she was looking at him with less irritation than an expression that seemed . . . unsettled. He frowned immediately.

“What is it?”

“I felt something . . . shift.”

“What does Bruadair have to say about it?” he asked, then he shook his head. He could hardly believe he was talking about a country as if it were an entity. At least in Tòrr Dòrainn, the flora and fauna were all that made their opinions known. He was beginning to think that Aisling's entire country had a mind of its own.

Aisling smiled at Uabhann, then looked at Rùnach. “It's silent on the matter,” she said, but she looked almost haunted by the fact. She looked at Uabhann. “I hesitate to speak.”

“In front of me?” Uabhann asked in surprise. “I've heard things that would turn this wee elven princeling's hair white, if that eases you any. You may say whatever you like. I guarantee you I won't be shocked.”

“I don't want to erode any confidence in, ah, or rather about, ah . . .” She stopped. “I don't want to speak amiss.”

Uabhann gestured to the book on his table. “You're not going to do anything worse than the author of that has already done.”

“I don't
want
to do anything worse than what he's done.”

Uabhann smiled. “And that, my lady, is one of the many reasons why you're the First.”

Rùnach leaned against the table and looked at Aisling. “I think you may speak freely here.”

She took a deep breath. “I think Bruadair is growing weaker.”

He blinked. “What?”

She shrugged helplessly. “Here the magic is very strong, stronger than anywhere I've felt it.” She looked at him. “Can you believe I just said that?”

“I can,” he said with a smile. “You, a simple weaver with no magic.”

“Is that what she believed?” Uabhann interrupted incredulously.

“I'll hire a king's bard to do justice to the tale,” Rùnach said seriously, “for it will take a very skilled one to tell it properly.” He looked at Aisling. “So what do you think?”

She wrapped her arms around herself. “I'm not even sure how to describe it.” She gestured at the table. “When you opened that book, because I'm assuming you just did, the magic shuddered. As if it prepared for an attack.”

Rùnach felt the book behind him shudder a bit at her words, a sensation that he had to admit was one of the most unwholesome things he'd ever had the misfortune of experiencing in a lifetime of numerous unwholesome things. He looked at the book behind him, then at Uabhann.

“Interesting.”

“Very.” Uabhann made Aisling another bow. “If you'll permit me an opinion, I think the others should come and see what's here. I'll go fetch them, if you like.”

“Thank you,” Aisling said. “Do you mind if we stay here?”

“Of course not,” he said. “The First and a prince of Tòrr Dòrainn in my humble chambers? I must be dreaming. Good ones, for a change,” he threw over his shoulder as he walked across his chamber and out the door.

Rùnach looked at Aisling. “Interesting friends you have here.”

“They say he's the most intimidating of them all,” she said very quietly. “No one likes him very much.”

“Ah, courtly intrigues,” Rùnach said with a smile. “Lovely. What do you think of him?”

She looked at him steadily. “I'm not afraid of the dark.”

He smiled and reached out to pull her into his arms. “I know you're not. I think Master Uabhann would be very pleased to hear that.”

“Will he mind if I ask for extra werelight when he's around, do you think?”

He laughed. “I daresay he'll find a way to tolerate it.” He pulled back and looked at her. “Your eyes are the same color, you know.”

“As Uabhann's?” she asked in surprise. “Are they?”

“It seems to be a characteristic of several of the spinners I've met so far,” he said, “which admittedly isn't all that many.”

“Inbreeding back in the mists of time?”

“An ability to see more clearly than others?”

“Are you always going to answer questions with questions?”

“Should I, do you think?”

She leaned up, kissed him quickly, then smiled at him. “It's reassuring.”

“Thankfully,” he said. He leaned back against the table, then drew her over to lean with him so he could watch the door. It occurred to him that he was doing it, but he supposed Aisling wouldn't notice.

Only she did.

“I think we're safe here,” she ventured.

“Bad habits developed over a lifetime of looking over my shoulder.”

“I understand.”

“I imagine you do,” he said quietly. He put his arm around her shoulders. “We'll try to see to things so we don't have to do that anymore, Aisling.”

“Do you think we'll manage that?” she asked, looking at him with those pale, fathomless eyes of hers. “To rescue the magic of an entire country . . .”

“Or tinker with the dreams of an entire world,” he said with a smile. “Which do you think is more difficult?”

“Do I have to answer that?”

“Shouldn't you?”

“You're doing it again.”

He smiled. “I'm trying to distract you. I'd rather use other methods but your steward is standing at the doorway and I think his brow is beginning to pucker. Best for me not to irritate the man with the keys to your schedule right off, wouldn't you agree?”

“My schedule,” she said with a faint laugh. “What a thought.”

It was something to think about, though, and he supposed it wouldn't do for the others to see him sitting so casually with the leader of their exclusive group, so he dropped his arm from around her shoulders and put his hand over his book. Aisling shot him a warning look, which he responded to with a quick smile. He supposed she might have had something to say to him, but the entire council of dreamspinners was suddenly standing there in a little semicircle in front of her. Freasdail slid in from one side and made Aisling a very low bow.

“My lady,” he said, “I have come to see if you need refreshment. Wine? Biscuits? Little cakes soaked in lemon juice and sprinkled with delicate sugars?”

“Sounds lovely,” said a voice. “Freasdail, set a course for the kitchens and leave the girl room to breathe.”

Rùnach watched Bristeadh come to stand at the side of the group and shoo Freasdail off. Surprising, but what did he know about the political machinations of dreamspinners and their servants? Bristeadh looked at his daughter and smiled.

“Your companions are here, daughter. What do you need from them?”

Aisling nodded. “The prince of Tòrr Dòrainn was looking for an opinion on something.”

Rùnach faced the gaggle of dreamspinners gathered there. He'd already encountered them as a group before, but at a distance and through the haze of terrible spells. They were a much friendlier-looking group at the moment. He cleared his throat.

“I have a book—”

Well, apparently that was enough of an announcement for them. They crowded around him to see just what sort of book he had. He unveiled it to reactions ranging from gasps of horror to murmurs of appreciation. The last was from, of course, Uabhann. And then the suggestions came at him from all directions.

“Pull it apart.”

“Someone fetch a book knife!”

“Take it out of the cover first, naturally.”

Rùnach couldn't bring himself to argue when Aisling's compatriots began to assault Acair's writings, if that's what they could be called. There was a bit of jostling, much discussion and rearranging of sheaves of paper, some low arguing, but all of it left Rùnach standing to the side, watching in horror as something emerged there on the table.

A map of the world, the current Nine Kingdoms being given especial attention.

“Oh, my,” someone said faintly. “Whose book is this again?”

“Acair of Ceangail,” Uabhann said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “Bloody brilliant, isn't he?”

“If you like that sort of thing,” said a woman who looked as if she'd first touched a spinning wheel several centuries earlier. “Gauche, if you ask me.”

“But effective,” Bristeadh said quietly. “Rùnach, what do you think?”

Rùnach found several pairs of eyes on him. He didn't bother to count them, though he supposed he might be able to do so later from memory. He took a deep breath.

“I think my half brother is trying to take over the world.”

A
isling wandered aimlessly through passageways, wishing she could have found someplace to sit. Actually it wasn't so much the sitting that she wished for as the surcease from thinking.

Rùnach's bastard brother had made a map of the world.

That wouldn't have troubled her before, most likely because she never would have been the wiser as she'd sat in the Guild and woven her endless lengths of cloth. If she'd seen his map, she likely would have silently criticized his cartographer skills and gone about her business. But now she knew what the map actually was, that Acair had made particular marks on the map that corresponded to particular kingdoms where there were portals known only to dreamspinners and those select spinners apportioned to royal houses.

Or at least they had only been known to them before.

She didn't want to think about how Acair had found out where those portals were or what else he knew.

She jumped a little as she realized Muinear was walking down the passageway toward her. She smiled and went into her great-grandmother's embrace.

“Thank you,” she said, though thanks seemed particularly inadequate.

“Ah, my love,” Muinear said, pulling back and kissing her on both cheeks, “I'm so happy you're finally here.”

“And I'm so happy you're alive,” Aisling said frankly.

Muinear laughed a little. “Iochdmhor is powerful, true, but she has so little imagination that it was an easy thing to leave her thinking she had the victory.”

“I would like never to see her again,” Aisling said, “no matter how easily fooled she might be.”

“Oh, not easily,” Muinear said, her smile fading, “but done readily enough, I suppose. In the end, darling, she is just a little witch who will fade into obscurity. There have been and will no doubt be in the future those with much more power than she.” She took Aisling's arm. “I thought you might like to see your chamber at sunrise. Sunset is better, perhaps, when the light is full west and you have twilight to look forward to, but sunrise is lovely as well.”

“My chamber?”

Muinear smiled. “Yours, my love. I didn't have a chance to show it to you yesterday and Freasdail had left the honor of it to me.” She started to walk, then apparently realized she was pressing on alone. She paused. “What is it?” she asked.

Aisling hardly knew how to voice her thoughts. “I'm not sure where to begin.” She looked at her great-grandmother. “Were you in truth the First?”

“For centuries, until your grandmother took my place.” She nodded toward to her right. “Let's walk, Aisling, and I'll tell you of it, what there is to tell.”

“Are you afraid I'll bolt?”

Muinear smiled. “Nay, my girl, not that. Though I hope it was clear enough yesterday that you
can
walk away from your birthright. There are other paths you could choose.”

“And who would take my place?” Aisling asked reluctantly.

“For the moment? No one.” She paused. “We would begin a search for someone with the right temperament and the requisite magic, but whether or not we would find him or her—well, we would continue on as we have been until that person was found. And our line would end.” She smiled. “Sometimes that happens, in spite of our actions or lack of action.”

“Who was the first dreamspinner?”

“My grandfather's grandmother,” Muinear said. “Your lad could likely find you all the details you want in his wonderland of a library, or if we manage to do what we must, we'll spend long evenings during the fall in front of my fire, talking of those who have come before. I will tell you this, Aisling: every last one of the men and women who came before you and put their hands to that wheel felt as if the task was too great at first.”

“I'm not sure I'm equal to even thinking about the task,” Aisling said faintly, “much less how to accomplish it.”

“Come look at your chamber, then, love, and see what you think.”

Aisling nodded and continued on with her. She wasn't blind to the deference everyone she passed showed her great-grandmother, nor could she deny that she was shown the same deference.

Well, perhaps a bit more.

“I keep thinking I should look for Rùnach behind me,” she said.

“Oh, I imagine he receives his share of courtesies. Lovely man, that one. I imagine he accepts them politely but doesn't need them for the sake of his ego.”

“Nay, he knows who he is.”

“Do you, my girl?”

Aisling took a deep breath. “There are times I'm not sure.”

“What was the first spell you used, Aisling?” Muinear asked.

“Do you not know?”

“I think you know the answer to that already.”

“What I think is that there must be a very select dinner group comprised of you, Soilléir of Cothromaiche, Uachdaran of Léige, and perhaps even Sìle of Tòrr Dòrainn, who meet regularly and discuss how best to torment those with much less knowledge than you have.”

Muinear laughed. “You might be surprised to learn how close that is to the truth. And you forgot Queen Brèagha and Eulasaid of Camanaë.”

Aisling started to ask her just how many people she knew, but she shut her mouth around the question. She wasn't entirely sure she hadn't heard Rùnach ask that same thing of various souls over the course of their journey. He had never been particularly happy with the answer, so perhaps it was best she remain ignorant. She looked at Muinear.

“If you'll have the tale from me,” she said, “I'll tell you. Rùnach and I had just escaped Gair's hiding hole in the mountains using a rune of opening Còir of Tòrr Dòrainn had gifted Rùnach. We dropped into a river that carried us away—in truth, I was sure it would drown us. There were things in that river—” She shivered. “Unpleasant things. So I said the last thing that came to mind before I thought I would simply consign myself to a watery grave.”

“What was that?”

“I wanted light.” Aisling shook her head at the memory. “And the magic gave me light.”

“Of course it did, love,” Muinear said gently. “I'm sure it was happy to be of use to you.”

“I believe it was.”

Muinear stopped in front of a simple door made of a pale, blond wood. “Light, Aisling, is what allows us to see, gives us hope. I think you'll find the same thing here.”

Aisling took a deep steadying breath, then nodded. She waited until Muinear had opened the door, then stepped inside.

And she caught her breath.

She walked into the chamber and stopped in the middle of it, in front of a wheel that looked so much like the one she'd made from Soilléir's spell of essence changing that she had to look at it twice to make certain it wasn't. She put her hand on it, felt Bruadair sigh a little at the touch, then looked around her. She turned around, looking at walls she had first thought were covered with tapestries . . . only those tapestries weren't cloth. They were made of events.

She turned around and around until a shaft of sunlight came through a ceiling partly made of glass and lit up her wheel. It shone through one of the scenes as well, turning it into something less than reality but slightly more than a dream.

Unbidden, the memory of the first time she'd touched a spinning wheel came to her. She had been standing in the very humble home of a widow, looking at her worn, wooden wheel, and knowing that if she touched it, she would die. But she'd reached out to it just the same, sending it spinning without touching it at all.

A vision had come to her of standing on the edge of a cliff she now realized was the bluff outside the palace. The sky had been full of colors, colors she had never before seen and suspected she never would again if she didn't do something to save Bruadair, and scenes of battle, scenes of sorrow and delight—

Much like what she was looking at presently.

She looked for Muinear. “What—”

“The world,” Muinear said with a smile. “As it passes by.”

“And what is my task?”

Muinear sat in a comfortable chair Aisling hadn't noticed until that point. “Tasks,” she corrected gently. “Your most important task, of course, is to oversee the other dreamspinners, adding your own touches to what they send out. It is their task to provide the weavers with something to weave for more substantial intrusions into the events of the world.”

“Weavers?” Aisling echoed. “There are weavers?”

“
You
have weavers, Aisling, who weave what you and the Council will spin. You will learn to pull threads from what passes before you here in this chamber, as you've learned to find bits and pieces of things along your way here.”

Aisling put her hand to the little purse she'd been given in Cothromaiche only to realize she'd left it in her chamber. She looked at Muinear in alarm, but her great-grandmother shook her head.

“Not to worry. No one will disturb your things.” She considered the moving scenes for a moment or two, then looked at Aisling. “We take our turns here in the world, Aisling, for whatever length of time we're allotted. Part of the task of each soul who takes breath is to contribute something to the body of creative work, if I can call it such a pedestrian thing. All the tales written, the songs composed, the mighty deeds done, the magic wrought, all those things make up the fabric of our world, becoming a grand tapestry of the Nine Kingdoms. Part of your task is to decide how that tapestry is best woven. Though, I hasten to add, you need not do the weaving yourself.”

“Thankfully.”

Muinear smiled. “I understand. I far prefer to spin as well. You can, of course, weave your own tapestry—and you will—but that will come later, when you have the leisure to see how you might draw on what you see that moves you.”

“Single words and simple thoughts?”

“You've been talking to Soilléir, I see.” She smiled. “He is a master at letting the world go on its way without interference, though in this instance, he has been almost as involved as the rest of us. There are times when the fate of the world hangs in the balance that you must perhaps do things you might not otherwise.” She sat back and smiled. “So, what do you think of your chamber?”

Aisling sank down on a stool in front of her wheel. “I'm not sure what to think. I don't even know where to begin.”

Muinear cocked an ear, then looked at the doorway. “Your answer might be arriving, I daresay. I'll go—”

“Nay,” Aisling said, holding out her hand to stop the woman from rising. “I'll answer it.”

It was Rùnach. She held open the door and motioned for him to come inside. He did, then stopped so suddenly, he almost lost his balance. He looked around with wide eyes.

“Well,” he said finally.

“I couldn't agree more.”

“May I?”

Aisling looked at Muinear, but her great-grandmother only waved her on.

“The chamber is yours, my love. Make use of it how you will.”

Rùnach reached for her hand briefly. “This is . . . unbelievable.”

She couldn't answer. All she could do was watch him as he walked around the chamber, pausing to look at the scenes being played out there in front of him. He lingered an especially long time in the spot where the sun shone. She realized with a start that he was looking at her.

“Your eyes are the color of the sea.”

She looked at him in surprise. “What?”

“The sea in the south,” he clarified. “That sort of bluish green that has color but doesn't.” He smiled. “I've been trying to decide for some time now, actually, just what color they were.”

“Well, that's settled.”

He smiled, then his smile faded. “I'm sorry to interrupt, but I'm wondering if you would be willing to come look at something and give me your opinion.”

“You look so serious,” she murmured.

He hesitated, then shook his head. “Just come and see what you think.”

She took his hand and walked with him to the door. He paused in front of Muinear's chair.

“Would you care to come, my lady?”

She popped up out of her chair with the energy of a woman a fraction of her age. “Of course, Rùnach. Where are we congregating?”

“Uabhann's chambers, if you don't mind.”

Aisling watched her great-grandmother take Rùnach's arm. “I never mind. He is one of my favorite people. So many interesting things rattling around in his head.”

Aisling didn't dare ask what those things might be, but she was happy to exchange a look with Rùnach before he nodded and walked with them down the passageway that led toward a chamber she wasn't entirely comfortable with. Then again, Muinear had a point. Lord Dread was full of all sorts of observations that he seemed to take genuine delight in.

She expected to find the entire collection of dreamspinners in Uabhann's chambers, but it was just him standing next to his table, leaning on his hands as he looked at the map that he and his cohorts had put together the night before. He looked over his shoulder when he heard them come inside his chamber, then immediately turned and made her a bow.