Heir to Sevenwaters (11 page)

“It’s true, that is the arrangement our fathers planned,” Aidan said. “But nothing’s signed and sealed. The fact is, my father could extricate me from the agreement easily. Especially if the bride I suggested had better prospects than Rathnait’s.”

I turned a questioning gaze on him and he blushed scarlet. “Prospects?” I queried.

“Gods aid me,” said Aidan, “this is like wading through a bog with lead boots on. All my skills with words seem to have deserted me. If I could put it into a song, Clodagh, I would express myself a great deal less awkwardly.”

I suppressed a smile. “No songs are necessary,” I said. “Just explain clearly what you mean. And hurry. I can’t see any sign of Cathal or the children and I’m getting worried.”

“My father would require me to marry a girl whose birth was equal to, or higher than, my own—the daughter of a chieftain at least,” he said. “He plays no part in the territorial struggles of this region: Whiteshore is too far west for that. But he would make an excellent ally for a chieftain of Ulaid, whether it be Lord Sean or another. He has considerable influence in Connacht, and the leaders there play their parts in the councils of the High King. In his turn, Father would welcome an ally in the east, someone in the mainstream of political affairs. Were I to present Father with the daughter of such a man as a prospective wife, he would at the very least be interested.”

“I see.” Now I was blushing too. “And what about poor Rathnait? Cathal said her heart might be broken if arrangements changed. Does he know her well?”

Aidan’s lips tightened; his eyes darkened. “Cathal likes to meddle,” he said. “His talk of broken hearts is nonsense. He’s well aware that there’s nothing between Rathnait and me but a vague agreement our fathers made years ago. As I said, she’s a child. In a few years’ time she’ll get plenty of offers.”

Something was not quite right about this explanation. “If Cathal knew that,” I said, “why did he warn me off?”

“What did he say to you, exactly?”

“That if you showed interest in me, I should discourage you.” This was getting uncomfortably direct.

Aidan was quiet for a while as we rode on, crossing two of the small streams. As yet there was no sign of the children. Perhaps they were riding on to the Pudding Bowl with Cathal. I had expected them to stop and wait for us. But then, with Cathal one could not know what to expect.

“Perhaps he’s jealous,” said Aidan eventually.

“Jealous?” I considered this. Did Cathal value his bond with Aidan, a bond that had existed more or less since birth, so much that he would get in the way of Aidan’s prospects with a woman? Could Cathal possibly be jealous of me? Before I had time to weigh this idea, Aidan spoke again.

“He wants you for himself,” he said flatly.

“What?”

“He’s jealous,” Aidan said. “He wants you for himself.”

“No, no. That can’t be it. Cathal doesn’t even like me. He considers me a complete bore. If he’s jealous, it’s over his friendship with you. Besides, he’s of humble birth, isn’t he? He must know he’d never meet my father’s requirements for a suitor. If that’s what we’re talking about.”

Aidan smiled. “That is what we’re talking about, Clodagh. Cathal doesn’t think the way other folk do. He doesn’t play by other people’s rules.”

“But he’s an Inis Eala warrior. He must be prepared to follow Johnny’s orders, at least.”

“That’s different,” said Aidan. “Cathal lives for combat. You’ve seen how he excels at it. He’s only here at Sevenwaters because Johnny ordered him to come. Cathal tried to get out of it. He hates the need to make conversation, to display his best manners, to comply with the codes of a great household like your father’s. He chafes at the restrictions. At Inis Eala his eccentricities don’t stand out the way they do here, or indeed the way they did at Whiteshore. As a warrior, he never sets a foot wrong.”

I was about to ask for an explanation of the taunts the two men had exchanged during that fierce encounter with knives, when there was a sound of approaching hoof beats and around a corner ahead of us came Eilis on her gray pony, looking perfectly calm. Behind her was Coll on his bay.

“We thought we shouldn’t go too far ahead,” Eilis said, “or you’d be cross, Clodagh. We turned back at the third stream.”

“Where’s Cathal?” I asked.

Eilis looked at me blankly. “Here, isn’t he?” she said, glancing at the others and back at me.

“He went after you. Didn’t you see him? Did you and Coll ride off the track?”

“Of course not.” Coll spoke up now. “Maybe Cathal’s the one who went off another way. If he came along this path he couldn’t have missed us.”

I swore under my breath. Curse Cathal! How could he have disappeared? The man had a rare talent for complications.

“We’d best ride on,” said Aidan, glancing at Doran, who had come up beside us with Sibeal close behind him.

“Agreed,” said Doran. “There’s only the one track; he can’t have gone far. I don’t suppose anything untoward has happened, but it’s wisest that the rest of us stay together. We should reach the lake soon. Perhaps he’s there waiting.”

“I’m sorry, Clodagh.” Eilis sounded unusually chastened. “We shouldn’t have ridden off; I know that.”

“All right,” I said. “We’ll say no more about it now. But don’t do it again, please. The same goes for you, Coll.”

As we rode on, something inside me was sounding a warning. The Inis Eala men were highly trained, not only in fighting, but also in such skills as tracking and path finding, not to speak of their peerless horsemanship. How could Cathal have lost his way on a perfectly simple track? What exactly was the man playing at?

We reached the lake in good time. It was a lovely spot, nestled in a hollow high on the flanks of a wooded hill. There was a quiet over it that set the mind at peace, for there seemed nothing between the pale water and the arch of sky above but dreams and birdsong. When we came here, I liked to lie on my back on the sward and breathe deeply, letting my troubles go.

That was not possible today. There was no sign of Cathal. While Sibeal and I set out the food and drink that Doran had carried in his saddlebags and the men went down to the water with the children to see if there was any good fishing to be had, I was still working my way through the possibilities and not liking any of them much. The paths through Sevenwaters forest were known to be deceptive. If the Fair Folk wanted a man to lose his way, he would lose it. In the past, certain travelers had ridden into the woods and never come out again. But this particular path was straightforward. That was one of the reasons I’d agreed with Eilis’s choice of destination. And if Cathal was with the Sevenwaters family, the Fair Folk should treat him as they would us.
We
never got lost, and nor did the trusted members of our household. I put no credence in the silly rumors that were circulating beyond the borders of our own territory, about the Tuatha De starting to turn against humankind. Certainly, such folk had great power and were prepared to use it. But not against us. Anyone familiar with the history of our family would know that could not be the explanation for Cathal’s disappearance.

Had he ridden off on some mission of his own? That conversation in the stables had suggested Cathal was behind today’s outing. Perhaps he hadn’t organized it to help his friend, but for a more devious purpose. I thought of spies, abduction and assassination, and began to feel very uneasy. Deirdre’s marriage to Illann had offended the northern chieftains. Perhaps Naithi or Colman had decided that kidnapping one of us to gain leverage against my father would impress the influential Eoin of Lough Gall. Perhaps Cathal was out there right now, telling someone exactly where we were.

We had started to eat when he appeared from under the trees on his black gelding. He dismounted, leaving his horse to graze beside ours, and walked over to sit down next to me. As the rest of us stared, mute, he helped himself calmly to a mutton bone. “You could have waited for me,” he said.

“Where were you?” I held my annoyance in check, knowing it was only fair to allow him an explanation.

“You know I was looking for Coll and Eilis, Clodagh. But I see they’re here and unharmed, unless the Fair Folk have transformed them into ghostly simulacra of themselves—let’s see—” He reached out and pinched Eilis lightly on the arm, making her squeal. “No, it’s the real thing all right. At least you saved me some food.”

“Where did you go, Cathal?” Aidan sounded calm. Of course, he was more used to his friend’s oddity than I was. “That was a straight path, and the children turned and came back after quite a short ride. But we saw no sign of you.”

Cathal’s dark eyes were guarded as he glanced at his friend. “Nor I of you,” he said. “I rode after them until I was certain I should have overtaken them. I turned back, thinking they might have ventured along a side path; investigated several of those, discovered nothing and returned to the place where I had left you, but found you gone. I deduced you had ridden on without me. So here I am. Shadow has had good exercise today.” He glanced at the gelding.

“I see.” I could not keep the note of deep suspicion out of my voice. “How very odd that you missed us.”

“The paths through this forest have a habit of changing,” said Sibeal gravely, her eyes fixed on Cathal’s face. “It’s not wise to ride off the track unless you know the place and it knows you.”

I saw something alter in his expression, as if a cold breeze had passed over him. It was an odd look. I would almost have said Cathal was afraid. But he answered lightly. “It’s not all swordplay and feats of strength at Inis Eala. We are trained in other skills, you know. Coll, pass me those bannocks, will you?”

Sibeal was still staring at him. Folk who did not know our family sometimes found her scrutiny disconcerting, for she had a seer’s eyes, such a light blue as to be almost no color, and an uncanny power of concentration. “Being an Inis Eala man doesn’t protect you from the Fair Folk,” she said now. “If they want to draw you off course, tracking skills won’t help you. How can you find your way by signs and sounds if the path moves?”

“That’s nothing but superstitious nonsense,” Cathal said.

Doran cleared his throat.

“Believe what you like,” I said, not wanting our man-at-arms drawn into an awkward argument. “This is your first visit here. If you stay with us long enough you’ll discover that it’s true. It’s one reason Sevenwaters is such a desirable holding. The place is more or less impregnable. Of course, although the presence of the Fair Folk helps protect us, it’s a responsibility as well.”

“Uh-huh,” said Cathal in tones of complete disbelief.

“It’s an unusual place,” Aidan said. “To grow up surrounded by this great forest, with its strange tales, and then to have to go away and live somewhere quite ordinary . . . I think your sister Deirdre would have found that difficult.”

I remembered Deirdre vowing that if our mother died giving birth to a boy she would put Sevenwaters behind her and never come back. “It depends,” I said, steering the conversation onto a more comfortable path. “If the alternative is good enough people leave happily. Muirrin, for instance. She loves her new life. My Aunt Liadan, Johnny’s mother, went all the way to Britain. Of course, she—” I broke off, not wanting to discuss my aunt’s ability to communicate over distance with the disbelieving Cathal present.

“She what?” Eilis asked idly, cutting herself a slice of cheese.

“She can speak to Father from far away,” said Sibeal. “Silently, mind to mind. It’s an ability common to twins in our family. It means Aunt Liadan can share her news with Father, and hear ours, without waiting for letters to travel all the way between Harrowfield and Sevenwaters.” She was eyeing Cathal closely again. “Deirdre and Clodagh can do it, too,” she added.

I rose to my feet, scattering crumbs. “I’m going for a walk around the lake,” I said.

“Don’t wander off the path or the Fair Folk might get you.” Cathal was irrepressible. I must have been wrong, earlier, when I thought Sibeal’s words had troubled him.

“It’s no joking matter,” I said. “Don’t get up, Doran. Sibeal will come with me and we’ll stay in sight all the way.”

On the far side of the Pudding Bowl, my sister and I sat on the rocks by the water. We could see the others across the lake, Coll and Eilis fishing, Aidan helping them with hooks and bait, Doran stationed at a slight distance keeping watch. Cathal was sitting on the grass up near the horses, arms around his knees. It was not a relaxed pose. I thought his dark eyes were on Sibeal and me. But perhaps he was simply staring into space, brooding. For all the biting remarks, the quick retorts, the mischief and mockery, there seemed something sad about the man. I thought about his kindness to Aidan earlier. Then I thought about his peculiar disappearance and what it might mean. Cathal was a mystery. He was a puzzle.

Sibeal was gazing into the water, which was remarkably clear. Small spotted fish darted here and there over a green-brown patchwork of smooth stones, seeking the shelter of underwater ferns. My sister was not in a trance; I had come to recognize that state over the years, and her eyes had not lost their focus, nor was her body so preternaturally still as to suggest she had slipped into a different state of consciousness.

“I could scry here,” Sibeal said. “This water holds many visions. But I’m sure you asked me to come with you so we could talk.”

“Well, yes,” I said. This was awkward, even though she and I understood each other pretty well. As a seer, Sibeal had a window on the future that the rest of us could not open. She did not talk about her visions. Indeed, she usually kept her thoughts very much to herself. “We should talk about Mother and the baby, and what might happen.”

“I know she might die.” My sister’s voice was small and precise. “And the baby, too. Father told me. Or the baby might be a girl. Another disappointment, like me and Eilis. Like all of us, I suppose, except Muirrin, because the first one must be special.” She sounded eerily calm.

My heart bled for her. “She loves us all, Sibeal,” I said. “Don’t ever doubt that.” I hesitated. “Have you seen anything about this when you were scrying? Have your visions shown what’s going to happen?”