The Dark Mirror (14 page)

“About the eagle,” said Bridei, “it means more than what I said. Those men who died, the ones I saw in the Dark Mirror—that day, you said they never stopped believing in Fortriu even when they knew they were all going to die. I think that’s what the eagle is, and that’s what the link is in the augury: the spark inside each of us that makes us part of the land. It’s what we
get from our ancestors, what we give to our children. It makes us strong even when we’re losing. It makes us kin whether we belong to north or south, whatever faith we adhere to. Maybe if everyone remembered that, we could stand firm against the invaders, if they come again. That day at the Vale of the Fallen, I didn’t really understand. I was only a child.”

“In years, yes,” Broichan said, regarding
Bridei with an odd expression. “As you are still. Most men would view you as a child, even now”

Bridei felt his cheeks flush. He said nothing.

“Your interpretation of the augury, however, is that of a man,” his foster father said. “The sticking point, of course, lies in religion. If our land ever falls to an invader it will be because that weakling in Circinn opened his borders to missionaries
preaching the doctrine of the cross. If we give way to that, Bridei, perhaps we deserve to fall. If we turn our backs on the wisdom of our ancestors, do we merit survival?”

“My lord, you do not believe our people would do that, surely?” Bridei protested. “Set aside Bone Mother and the Shining One, and the wisdom that governs every choice we make in our lives? Here in the north we are strong in
our faith. Drust the Bull would never do as the other king did and let his people abandon the old ways. Erip even said he—” He broke off.

“Erip even said what?”

“That King Drust still observes the sacrifice at Gateway. In the Well of Shades. He said that while the wise women go down to the shore to keep Bone Mother’s vigil, the king makes an offering to the Nameless One, the darkest power of
all, that dwells beyond and beneath the Otherworld. A sacrifice made in living flesh.”

“Erip said that, did he?”

“He hinted at it. And Wid told him such things were best not spoken aloud, even in the company of trusted friends.”

“Both Erip and Wid were right. You should put this from your mind for now. You’ll have other matters to occupy you soon enough. We’re having visitors for Midsummer.”

“
AND SO,” BRIDEI
told Tuala some days later, “I have to put everything I’ve learned into practice.” It was evening, and they were sitting in a shadowy corner of the hall, trying to be unobtrusive so nobody would order Tuala off to bed. “Every single thing,” he went on. “These people who are coming are the sort of folk you
meet at court: clever, subtle, tricky. Often what they really want from you isn’t what they say they want at all. Often what they say isn’t what they mean. Interesting people. People who know a lot about the world. Broichan says it’s a chance for me to try out what he and Erip and Wid have taught me.”

“A test,” said Tuala, nodding her small head sagely. “A trial.”

Bridei frowned. “I wouldn’t
say that. They’re Broichan’s friends, as far as I can tell. More of an opportunity.”

“A test,” Tuala repeated, not to be shaken.

“Well, maybe. It’ll be good to have some new faces here.”

Tuala did not reply. She had been increasingly quiet these last few days. There had been no solitary excursions into the woods to discover hidden wildflowers or a thrush’s nest or a scattering of spotted toadstools.
Now that Bridei thought about it, since the news that there would be visitors to Pitnochie, Tuala had been spending most of her time close to the house or yard, waiting for him like a small, silent shadow.

“Is everything all right?” he asked her now, realizing how caught up he had been in the excitement of anticipation.

Tuala nodded, saying nothing. She was hugging her arms around herself, as
if to keep out a chill. Her eyes took on the faraway expression they sometimes had, as if they held secrets an ordinary boy could never hope to share.

“Are you sure?”

Another nod.

“You should tell me if something’s troubling you,” he said, unconvinced.

“I will, Bridei.” The voice was very small and rather remote.

“You’re tired out. Look at those big bags under your eyes. How about a story,
and then you can go off to bed?” Tuala slept now in the tiny chamber that had once been Brenna’s, and before that a storeroom. Mara had relented in time and now shared her quarters with Brenna quite willingly, another of the surprising changes that had occurred in the pattern of things at Pitnochie since that midwinter night.

“Yes, please.” Tuala snuggled closer, leaning against him, resting
her dark head against the sleeve of his tunic.

“All right, then,” Bridei said. “Don’t go to sleep before I’m finished, mind.”

“No, Bridei.” The little voice was warmer now; nonetheless, there was something in the way her arm wrapped itself around his, like a vine clinging for purchase to its tree, that made him uneasy.

“What story do you want?”

“How you found me in the moonlight,” she whispered.

“Again?” He had told this so many times over it had become a ritual.

“Mm.”

“Once upon a time there was a boy . . .”

“. . . called Bridei . . .”

“. . . who thought he was all alone. His life was not so bad, really; he had a place to sleep, and enough to eat, and he was getting an education. But there was something missing. Bridei wasn’t even sure what it was.”

“. . . a family . . .”

“Yes,
but he didn’t know that, not until later. Bridei was a good boy. He did his lessons, he worked hard, he tried to please everyone. Then, on the night of the winter solstice, everything changed.”

“The moon came in his window.”

“Yes, the Shining One woke him up, and he went outside, even though it was so cold . . .”

“. . . so cold even the owl was hiding away . . .”

“. . . so cold the Urisk’s
tears turned to ice the moment they fell from his eyes . . .”

“. . . so cold the trees were shivering . . .”

“. . . so cold that Bridei’s ears and nose began to ache the moment he poked his head outside the door; cold enough to freeze your toes off, if you were silly enough to go out barefoot, which was what Bridei did. When he looked down to check if his toes were still there, he saw what the
moon had brought him.”

“A baby”

“That’s right; a strange little baby, all wrinkled and ugly like an old apple . . .”

“I was not!”

Bridei grinned. “Just checking if you were listening properly. No, it was a nice baby, the sort of infant you’d expect the Shining One to leave you as a gift for Midwinter. She was in a funny little cradle made out of all the things of the forest: tufts of grass
and skeleton leaves . . .”

“. . . crow feathers, owl feathers . . .”

“. . . a twist of ivy and a sprig of goldenwood . . .”

“. . . green berries and cobwebs . . .”

“. . . and stones with holes in them, threaded on rushes . . .”

“Bridei?”

“Mm?”

“Where is the cradle now?” She had never asked this before.

“It was stored away somewhere,” he told her, not wanting to lie, but reluctant to give
the full truth. He had never told her about the key, nor the spell he had made to win her a home. “It might have crumbled away by now; after all, that was more than six years ago.”

Tuala nodded. “Go on,” she said.

“So Bridei took the basket, and the baby in it, and brought them inside.”

“Because it was too cold out on the doorstep.”

“Much too cold. He kept the baby warm until the others woke
up, and then Brenna came, and the baby had a home. And Bridei wasn’t alone anymore.”

“He had a family,” Tuala said through a wide yawn.

“Yes,” agreed Bridei, “and now it’s bedtime. I’ll see you in the morning. Sweet dreams, Tuala.”

She detached herself from his arm and stood up, rubbing her eyes.

“Go on,” he said. “You’re asleep on your feet.”

“What if it had been cloudy that night?” she
asked suddenly. “You would never have found me.”

“But it wasn’t cloudy.”

“Yes, but it might have been.”

“Then whoever put you on the doorstep wouldn’t have put you there.”

“They didn’t care. They would have let me freeze all up, like the birds that fall out of the trees in winter.”

“They did care,” he said, looking her straight in the eye. Her expression was alarmingly bleak; it was not a
look that sat well on the face of a little child. “That’s why they gave you to me to look after. Because they knew they could trust me to do a good job of it. And part of that’s making sure you get enough sleep. Come on, I’ll walk through with you.”

MIDSUMMER WOULD BE
a night of full moon. It was an auspicious conjunction.
As the festival drew closer, Broichan’s household began yet another metamorphosis. The anticipated guests were four: three men and a woman. As personal friends of the druid, they could not be asked to lodge communally with the men at arms. The earth-walled barn was cleaned as well as could be managed—there were still mice—and the men shifted their bedding out there, leaving their quarters for the
male visitors. Erip and Wid pleaded creaky joints and troublesome backs and were granted dispensation from moving. And Bridei, to his delight, was allocated a spot in a corner of the barn next to Donal. His small chamber would be turned over to the visiting wise woman, whose name was Fola. Those who knew of her by reputation whispered of
Fola the Fierce
, but never in Broichan’s hearing.

In the
kitchen, ever a busy realm, the pace now quickened further. Ferat wished the offerings of his table to reflect Broichan’s standing as a senior druid and landholder of considerable importance. Trout were brought up from the lake to be smoked, cheeses were retrieved from the storage caves, blood sausages were mixed and hung in bladders, and the carcass of a prime steer jointed and salted away. Puddings
were planned; the spice box grew lighter.

In preparation for the visit all of Bridei’s teachers were applying pressure. Where there had once been time, most days, for a walk, a game, an exchange of news, now there was no time for anything but study, meals, and sleep.

Tuala watched and listened. She was good at making herself unobtrusive, at blending into the shadows as if she were really somewhere
else entirely. She stood under the oaks as Bridei and Donal battled with staves. Donal’s tattooed features and leather cap gave him a ferocious look, but Bridei, his soft brown hair fastened back in a disciplined plait, his blue eyes narrow and intent, was giving his tutor a real challenge. He nearly managed
to topple Donal with a clever sweep of the staff at knee level, but Donal sprang away
at the last moment, blocking the blow with a counterswing. Bridei rocked in place, fighting for secure footing and, in a moment, finding it. Master and student clasped hands, grinning. The bout was over, but Tuala did not stir. Today there would be no time to talk to Bridei; tomorrow there would be no time. Nor the day after, nor the day after that. Broichan would call for his foster son straight
away and keep him busy until suppertime. It was on purpose. It was to stop her from telling Bridei she was going away. It wasn’t fair. Broichan should know that she would not tell; it was he who had made her promise. There was no need to rob her of these little gifts of time. There was no need to steal her one treasure.

Tuala was not afraid of very much. She loved all creatures, even the mice
in the barn and the small, scuttling insects in the thatch. She had no fear of spiders or bats and only a natural wariness of more dangerous animals such as wolves, snakes, or wild boar. But Broichan filled her with a terror that was deep in the bone, a numbing, chill feeling that turned her mute and helpless whenever the druid looked at her. Tuala thought nothing of heading off alone for long excursions
through the woods. She could climb the tallest tree, scramble up the steepest rock face; she was used to walking on small, confident feet across the walled field that housed the horned stud bull. The dogs were Tuala’s devoted friends, and she was a favorite with the men at arms. Mara tolerated her; Brenna tended with firm kindness to her small needs. Ferat was a reliable source of honey cakes
although, as the cook said, Tuala ate barely enough to keep a wren alive.