Roberson, Jennifer - Cheysuli 07 (57 page)

 
          
Deep
inside, he quivered. And then the
kivarna
awoke.

 
          
She
climbed up into the bed. Her fair, free of plaited braids, rippled over
shoulders to twine against the bed pelts. She was naked, but for hair; save for
anguish, so was he.

 
          
The
pain was exquisite; the knowledge bittersweet. Shona knelt beside him, then
slowly placed a cool hand upon his chest. Beneath flesh and bone beat his
heart. His breathing ran ragged.

 
          
"Ah,
no," she whispered. "Don't let it be in fear. Let it be in joy."

 
          
His
voice sounded rusty. "You know the truth,
meijhana
."

 
          
"Do
I?" The hand drifted upward to touch his throat, his chin, his mouth.
"Do you?"

 
          
Every
sense was alive as she touched him. His body rang with it.

 
          
Shona's
smoky voice was soft. "If 'tis myth, we'll have shared naught but a
night's pleasure. If 'tis truth, then we'll by sharing
more
of these nights, I'm thinking."

 
          
Against
his will, he smiled. And took her into his arms.

 
          
Two
months later, at dockside, Keely put a sheathed sword into Aidan's hands.
"There," she said firmly. "What excuse do you offer
this
time?"

 
          
He
laughed. "No excuse at all. Aye,
su'fala
,
I will see to it you have no milk-mouthed granddaughter in the halls of
Homana-Mujhar. She will have this sword, and the means to learn its use."

 
          
Keely
looked beyond him to the ship. Then turned abruptly away, as if she could not
bear to look at the vessel that would carry away her daughter. Fiercely, she
stared back toward the cliffs. "Where is Shona?"

 
          
"Bringing
the dogs," Aidan said dryly.

 
          
Even
Keely was startled. "
All
of
them?"

 
          
Aidan
smiled crookedly. "The big boyo himself, as well as the bitch from
over-island, and the one from Atvia, and the two in whelp, and the one she got
last year from the fawn bitch who died, and the pups from the last litter…"
He sighed. "Ten or twelve, at least. We will repopulate
Homana-Mujhar."

 
          
Keely
inspected his expression. "Do you mind? She is headstrong, aye—I made her
so—but she knows what she is doing. She loves those hounds…" She sighed.
"I think it is compensation for having no
lir
-gifts."

 
          
"Or
perhaps she simply loves dogs." Aidan grinned. "Here she comes now—and
Sean. And Blais."

 
          
"And
dogs," Keely muttered. "There will be no room on the ship."

 
          
"Not
once those two bitches have whelped. Ah—here is Riordan, also."

 
          
They
made their way to the dock, trailing hounds and servants with baggage. Blais
strode down the dock first, accompanied by his ruddy wolf, who walked
unconcernedly ahead of the pack of hounds bred to kill her kind. She had, as
lir
were required, made her peace with
unblessed animals. Or else she had put the big male in his place, and he the
rest in theirs.

 
          
Aidan
glanced at the ship. High in the rigging, perched upon a spar, Teel preened
himself.

 
          
Sean
himself directed the loading of Shona's baggage, calling out orders in his
rusty voice. The hounds milled around, getting in everyone's way; Shona's
remonstrations did nothing in the midst of such confusion, for half the dogs
were too young to have learned proper manners. But when at last the loading was
done, Shona sent the dogs up the plank onto the ship—and discovered none of
them would go.

 
          
"Agh,
gods," Sean muttered, and scooped up one of the bitches. Without further
delay he carried her up the plank and onto the deck.

 
          
"There,"
Shona said, "d'ye see? Will you walk on all your legs, or be carried like
a meal sack?"

 
          
The
huge dark male, eyeing the ship balefully, leaned against her hip. Shona
staggered and nearly fell.

 
          
Aidan
fished her out of the pack and pulled her away from the water. "He will go
when you go. Get the others on board—we can tend him later."

 
          
One
by one the rest of the dogs were led up the plank and onto the deck. When at
last only the big male remained, Sean himself knelt down to look him in the
eye. " 'Tis a fine, bright boyo you are, my lad, and 'tis sorry I am to
see you go. But we've others here—though none as fine as you—and the lass will
be needing you. Tend her well, my braw, bright lad, and come back whenever you
like. The lasses will be mourning."

 
          
So
was Sean. Shona went to him and hugged him, clinging to his big frame, then let
go and turned away, putting her hand on the hound's neck. With no more urging
required, he climbed the plank to his pack.

 
          
Aidan,
looking at Sean and Keely, felt inadequate. He was taking Shona away from a
warm, loving family who had instilled her with courage, spirit and determination,
along with pride and a powerful loyalty. He could not predict if she would find
the same in Homana, or even if they could make it. For one horrible moment he
believed he was taking her to a doomed future.

 
          
Sean
shook his head as Aidan glanced at him. " 'Tis something every man
feels," he said, "and something every woman faces." His brown
eyes were warm and bracing, and Aidan realized the
kivarna
lived in Sean as strongly as in his daughter. "You'll
do well enough, my lad. And so will my lass."

 
          
Blais
came out on deck, leaning against the rail. "Are we sailing
today
?"

 
          
"
Skilfin
," Shona muttered, then
turned abruptly to embrace her mother.

 
          
Aidan
climbed up the plank. The big male wolfhound greeted him with a whine.
"She will be here in a moment." He patted the narrow head.

 
          
"Or
two days from now," Blais amended.

 
          
Aidan
glared at his cousin. "She has every right to take as long as she likes.
Erinn is her home…
and
yours, I'm
thinking."

 
          
Blais
grinned. "An Erinnishman, is it? Aye, well—let her take her time. 'Tis
indeed her home she's leaving… while I'm going to mine."

 
          
Aidan
was surprised. "You intend to stay in Homana?"

 
          
Blais
shrugged. " 'Twill depend on many things."

 
          
"Such
as your father?"

 
          
Yellow
eyes flickered. "A man has every right to seek out his
jehan
."

 
          
Aidan
smiled coolly. "A Cheysuli, is it? After all this time?"

 
          
Blais
sighed. "Aye. It is. And you should walk in my boots, cousin…" He
thrust out one booted foot. "I have the hair, the eyes, the color, the
lir
—but no one in Erinn truly
understands."

 
          
"Keely
might."

 
          
"Keely
does. 'Twas she who suggested I go."

 
          
Aidan
frowned his doubt. "Even knowing—"

 
          
"—what
my father is?" Blais shrugged. "She said that while
she
bore no affection for Teirnan of the
a'saii
, she was not blaming a son for
desiring to know his
jehan
."

 
          
Perhaps because she never desired to know
her jehana, and felt guilty because of it
. Aidan nodded. "A man has a
right to know his father. But he may not like what he meets."

 
          
Blais's
expression was serious. "My mother never lied to me. I know what he did. I
know what he wants to do. But I'm thinking 'tis only fair I hear
his
side of the story."

 
          
Aidan
granted him that. But he did not think it would last.

 
          
Shona
at last broke away from her kinfolk, hugging Riordan a final time, and walked
straight-spined up the plank. Her expression belied nothing of what she was
feeling, but Aidan knew. For all they promised to return as soon as was
decently possible, such plans often changed. Keely herself had been home twice
in twenty-two years, and not for fifteen of them. She knew as well as any the
likelihood of seeing Shona any time soon was negligible.

 
          
Blais
still leaned against the rail. Like Shona, he stared down at the dock. Rory and
Maeve and their children stood beyond Sean and Keely, with Rory dwarfing all
but Sean; both sisters were crying. Of all the women, only Maeve's eyes were
dry.

 
          
Blais'
jaw was taut. "She's not wanting me to go." Shona shrugged as the
ship was secured to sail. "None of them
wants
us to go."

 
          
"She
less than most. She thinks I'll be joining my father." Shona's tone was
hard. " 'Tis your decision, I'm thinking. To be a fool, or not."

 
          
Blais
looked at her. "He's not softened your tongue, has he?"

 
          
Shona
displayed her teeth. "He knows better than to try." Aidan lifted a
hand as the ship slipped her mooring. On the dock, the eagles waved, from the
shadow of their aerie.

 
          
«
^
»

 
          
By
the time the ship reached Homanan waters, eleven wolfhounds had become
twenty-four. Blais spent much of his time secluded with his
lir
, locked away in private thoughts.
And Shona and Aidan, reveling in the wind and the freedom and the magic of the
kivarna
, were almost sorry to see the
end of the voyage draw near. They had come to prize the isolation of the
vessel, knowing all too soon Aidan would face the increasing responsibilities
of his title. They had spent weeks learning one another's likes and dislikes,
in bed and out of it, and were not quite prepared to lose the privacy.

 
          
And
yet as the ship sailed into the harbor, it was Shona who clung to the rail and
pointed to the mist-wreathed island so close to Hondarth. "Is that
it?"

 
          
"The
Crystal Isle? Aye." Aidan leaned close to her. "The
shar tahls
teach us it is the birthplace
of the Cheysuli; that the Firstborn appeared there, then went to Homana."

 
          
Shona's
expression was intent. " 'Tis where he took her."

 
          
"Where
who took—? Oh." Aidan clasped a rigid hand. "Aye. And where she
killed him."

 
          
Restless,
Shona pulled away and paced two steps, then turned back, braid swinging, toward
the island. "Strahan made this place over into an Ihlini domain. She said
so."

 
          
"For
a time. No one lives there now… it was and always has been, save for two brief
occupations, a significantly Cheysuli place."

 
          
"Significantly,"
Shona muttered. "That's something I'm not knowing, with so much Erinnish
blood…" She sighed, transfixed again by the mist-wreathed bump of land.
"For so many years I prayed to be as my mother, able to talk to
lir
and take on any shape… but there was
nothing. All I had was the
kivarna
."

 
          
Aidan
laughed. " 'Tis enough, I'm thinking."

 
          
She
flicked him an impatient glance, though a tiny smile acknowledged his
purposeful lilt. "Could we go?"

 
          
It
startled him. "Now? But we are so close to the mainland—"

 
          
"I'd
like to go, Aidan. I know so much of what happened to my mother… and yet I've
never seen any of the places I've heard so much about."

 
          
Blais
appeared from the bow of the ship, flanked by his ruddy wolf. Like Shona, he
stared hard at the island. "If 'twas here we were born, as the
shar tahls
say, we
all
should see the place. 'Tis history, and tradition…" He
flicked an ironic glance at Aidan. "Or are you so secure in your heritage
you're needing no reminding?"

 
          
Aidan
understood very well the pointed jibe. Of them all, Blais had less reason to
see the island. His Cheysuli father had turned his back on such things as
tradition and heritage, forging his own renegade clan out of malcontents
disturbed by too much change within the existing clans; yet if Blais wanted to
go to the Crystal Isle, it indicated he at least wanted to weigh matters before
deciding on a side.

 
          
Something to be said for our arrogant
kinsman…

 
          
Aidan,
giving in, turned to call the order to the captain, who in turn passed the
orders along to his men. The ship heeled off of Hondarth and sailed toward the
island instead.

 
          
Curving
white beaches stretched in either direction, blinding the eye in sunlight.
Shona, Aidan, and Blais, accompanied by adult wolfhounds and appropriate
lir
, strode off the ship onto the
crushed white shells. A path wound away from the beach toward the wooded
interior. Through the trees they could see the glint of white stone here and
there, bleached brilliant by sunlight.

 
          
Shona
directed the dogs up the beach, laughing as they romped, but then turned her
attention to the path and its destination. "Where does it go?"

 
          
"Undoubtedly
to the palace." Aidan gestured toward the white mass only vaguely visible
behind foliage and forest. "It was a true palace for decades, serving the
Firstborn, but later fell into disuse. Carillon restored it as a prison-palace
for his exiled queen, Electra, and then Strahan lived in it for a time, in
hiding… but other than that it has not been truly inhabited for many years."

 
          
"Why
wait?" Blais asked lightly, and headed up the path toward the palace.

 
          
Shona
looked back to the hounds. All but the two bitches with litters and the new
pups were present, splashing through surf and leaping upon one another.
Seawater glistened on wiry coats, silver-gilt in the sunlight.

 
          
"They
have noses," Aidan reminded her. "They will find us if they get
lonely."

 
          
She
gifted him with a sour scowl. "They were bred for sight, not smell."

 
          
"Does
it matter? If you like, I will have Teel keep an eye on them."

 
          
She
gave the pack of hounds another judicious look, considering, then struck out
after Blais, leaving Aidan to catch up.

 
          
The
path to the palace was mostly overgrown, since it had been more than twenty
years since anyone had tended the island, but Aidan and Shona found it less
tedious than expected. Here and there a vine or branch was broken, testimony to
Blais' earlier passage, and the white shell-and-stone path was layered with
years of dirt, deadfall, and the unintended scatterings of animals. But it was
easy enough to follow, and led directly to the big wooden gates in the bailey
wall.

 
          
"Here,"
Shona breathed. "She said she climbed up the gate, and over…" Slowly
she walked through the opening left by a yawning gate leaf. "D'ye see? She
said the iron studs allowed her purchase for bare feet."

 
          
Aidan,
following, looked at the gate. He would not want to climb it, himself. That
Keely had, in the midst of a raging storm, to escape Strahan only underscored
her determination.

 
          
"And
somewhere here is where Taliesin died. He got her free of the palace, and used
his sorcery to keep Strahan at bay for a little…" Shona glanced around.
"They must have come from there. D'ye see? A side door, mostly hidden…"

 
          
Aidan,
distracted, nodded. Something was impinging on his awareness. Something
tugged
at him, like a child on his
father's tunic, trying to get his attention.

 
          
"And
then across here, to the gate… she got over and ran into the trees."

 
          
Again
he nodded. He was only vaguely aware of Shona's observations.

 
          
"Do
we go in here? Or in the front?"

 
          
Aidan
twitched shoulders. Something cool tapped his spine. "Wherever you like,
meijhana
."

 
          
"Here,
then. The way she came, with Taliesin." She paused. "Are ye coming,
then?"

 
          
Troubled,
Aidan nodded and followed her across the cobbles to the narrow side door,
little more than a wooden slat in the thick stone wall. Its hinges were rusted
stiff, but Shona simply grasped the latch and tugged, undeterred by anything so
tame as twenty years of disuse and neglect.

 
          
Rust
crumbled. So did hinges. The door fell away from the wall.

 
          
"Agh—"
Shona caught it, then grinned as Aidan swore and sucked at the ball of his
thumb. His instinctive grab for the falling door had resulted in a shallow
slice. "Wounded, are you?"

 
          
He
shrugged it away and levered the door against the wall as Shona peered into the
interior. She sniffed. "I smell sorcery."

 
          
"You
smell mold and dust and dampness—and perhaps a cousin somewhat interested in
annoying us."

 
          
"
'Twasn't through here he came. The door was whole… besides, d'ye think he'd
ever go in the side when there's a
front
way all the grander?"

 
          
Aidan
looked inside the entrance. "Probably not."

 
          
"Go,"
she suggested, fisting him high on the shoulder.

 
          
Teel
? Aidan appealed.

 
          
The
raven's tone was amused.
Mold and dust
and dampness. And, somewhere, a cousin
.

 
          
But nothing more?

 
          
Not
here.

 
          
It
was not nearly as comforting as Aidan anticipated. 'Not
here
?' What did that mean?

 
          
"Will
you go?" Shona asked. "Or d'ye want me to go first?"

 
          
Aidan
sneezed. Mold and dust and dampness. "No," he muttered glumly, and
went into the narrow corridor.

 
          
It
intersected with a wider corridor running in either direction. The floors were
floured with dust. Heading deeper into the palace were two sets of footprints:
man's boots, and a wolf's pawprints.

 
          
"This
way," Aidan suggested, and followed the marks in the dust.

 
          
Eventually
they reached a wide doorway that opened into a massive hall. The ceiling arched
high overhead, intricately fan-vaulted, pale and delicately textured like an
elaborate spun-sugar cake. The hall itself was rectangular, with arched windows
cut through white stone high in the walls. Below each arched embrasure hung a
faded banner. Window upon window, banner upon banner, dripping down lime-washed
walls. The colors were muted by time, but the patterns remained discernible.
Aidan, who knew his clan history, realized the banners were not of Cheysuli
making, but of a much later time.

 
          
"Carillon,"
he murmured. "He must have had them put here."

 
          
"But
would Strahan
leave
them here?"

 
          
"As
reminders of his victory? I think so." Aidan moved further into the hall,
abreast of Shona, who walked with her head tipped back, throat stretched, so
she could see the vaulted ceiling.

 
          
Then
she stopped. "Look at the columns!" Her voice echoed oddly. "All
twisted into spirals—and the
runes
—"

 
          
Aidan
looked as she touched the nearest column. It was, as she said, twisted,
spiraling up to the fan-vaulting. On either side of the ridge that marked the
upward sweep of the spiral, runes had been chiseled deep into stone.

 
          
"Can
you read them?" she asked.

 
          
Aidan
studied the nearest chain of glyphs winding its way from floor to ceiling,
higher than he could see. "Some of them," he said at last, reluctant
to admit he knew too few of the symbols. "Something to do with asking the
blessing of the gods, and the birth of the Firstborn—" Aidan, broke off,
shivering. The flesh stood up on his arms.