The Dark Mirror (15 page)

Broichan was different. It wasn’t as if he spoke to her much. Most of the time he acted as if she were not there. But she could feel his dislike; she could sense that he did not trust her. She could feel his power, and that made her afraid as nothing else could.

He had called her in some time ago, when the talk of visitors
first began. Brenna had brought her, after a hurried replaiting of the tousled hair and a whisking of a damp cloth over the small, pale face. It was the first time Tuala had been inside the druid’s private quarters. The room was full of interesting things, but the hammering of her heart meant she could not look at them properly. Bridei had gone out riding with Donal and would be away all day.
She wished Bridei were there.

Brenna was standing quietly, hands behind her back. Tuala edged closer to the young woman’s skirts, pretending she was invisible. The druid was
standing by the hearth, tall, so tall in his night-black robe. His eyes were dark as sloes and his mouth was pressed thin, as if he were angry or in pain. Tuala had seen Donal tighten up his lips like that, the time Lucky
kicked him by accident and raised a lump like an egg on his shin. There were candles set about the chamber; they made the bottles on the shelves glow mysteriously, half revealing contents that might be pallid snakes, or a wrinkled little form with a goblin face, or layer on layer of fat, green slugs. There were stoppered stone pots and iron implements and beakers of baked clay. The place smelled
of pungent herbs. Tuala began to count numbers in her head to keep the terror at bay. She could count up to fifty now: Bridei had taught her.

“. . . family farther down the Glen?” Broichan had been saying something, but Tuala had missed most of it.

“Yes, my lord,” Brenna said, sounding a little flustered. “My mother and my aunt—Cinioch’s mother, that is—live at Oak Ridge, where the track branches
up to the Five Sisters.”

“An isolated spot,” Broichan commented. “So much the better.”

Tuala was watching his hands; the fingers were long and bony, and there was a silver ring on one of them with a snake’s head on it, with pale green eyes. She blinked at the snake, and thought it blinked back.

“How is the child progressing?” The druid’s eyes were suddenly on Tuala, piercing, searching; she
pressed herself back against Brenna, but there was no escaping that gaze, and she would not look away. That would be like giving up. She must be brave, as Bridei would be.

“She’s a good child, my lord.” Brenna seemed unworried by the question; she moved Tuala away from her a little, made her stand alone for inspection. “She’s very quiet. Never a nuisance. Everyone likes her.”

“Hmm,” mused Broichan.
“Nonetheless, she is what she is. Easily visible; visibly different. At such times as this, a distraction we cannot afford.”

“With the visitors, my lord?” Brenna had reached out to take Tuala’s hand now; her warm grasp was comforting. “I can keep her well out of the way while they’re here. She can sleep in with us, Mara and me—”

Broichan silenced her with a raised hand. “It is not the disturbance
of my guests that principally concerns me. It’s the disruption to Bridei.”

Outrage flooded Tuala’s heart. Whatever a disruption was, it sounded bad, and she would never do anything bad to Bridei. He was her family. “I wouldn’t—” she began, and clamped her mouth shut at the look on Broichan’s face.

The druid spoke to Brenna as if the two of them were alone in the chamber. “You will take leave
from the household until the dark moon after Midsummer. You’ll take the child on a visit to your mother. Ferat will arrange a basket of food from the household, a gift for your family—no need to thank me, you’ve earned it. I want the child confined to the environs of your mother’s house and her presence there kept quiet. We don’t want all sorts of tales up and down the Glen. I know I can rely on
your discretion, Brenna. I understand there’s some talk of a betrothal in the near future?”

Brenna’s fair cheeks flushed scarlet. “Yes, my lord,” she murmured. “Fidich was planning to speak to you after it’s all over, the visit, I mean . . .”

“Then there’s a certain amount riding on your compliance with my instructions. If all goes to plan, I can see you well settled, with some additions to
the comforts of Fidich’s cottage, which are somewhat slight at best. If not . . .” He left this unfinished. “I’m sure you understand the need for caution in this matter.”

“I do, my lord,” Brenna said. “For Tuala’s own sake as much as anything. When did you want us to go?”

The druid frowned. “Unfortunately, Cinioch can’t be freed to escort you until closer to the feast day, but as soon as I can
manage without him you’ll leave. Mara knows my intentions in this, as do Ferat and Donal. It’s not to go any further as yet. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, my lord,” Brenna said. “But—

“But what? The instruction is clear enough, surely.”

“My lord, the two of them are very close. Tuala and Bridei. You don’t tell one of them a bit of news without the other knowing within a day.”

Broichan’s mouth
settled in a grim line again. “There’s one priority in this household,” he said, “and that is Bridei’s education. What occurs at Midsummer is critical to his future. There can be no distractions. You will go, and the child will go, and once you are on your way I will inform the boy of your absence. How he deals with the news will be a test in itself, a test of his maturity. Prior to your departure
nothing’s to be said. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord,” Brenna said. “I won’t breathe a word, I promise. But—”

“You may go now.” Broichan turned his back abruptly to stand staring at the cold hearth.

“Yes, my lord.” Tuala could hear the relief in Brenna’s voice; hand in hand, they moved to the door. Her own heart had not quieted. What she had
understood was wrong, all wrong. She was being
sent away and she was not allowed to tell Bridei. How could that be? She always told him everything.

“Leave the child here.”

Startled by the sudden command, Brenna dropped Tuala’s hand and, after a moment, bent to tuck a wayward curl behind the child’s ear and whisper, “Be good,” before vanishing all too quickly out the door, closing it behind her.

The chamber seemed all at once much bigger
and much darker. The tall form of the druid loomed over Tuala like a shadow, like a wraith, like a fell sorcerer from one of Bridei’s tales. She could see the snake ring staring at her; its forked tongue was flickering in and out. She waited, hands behind her back so he would not see them shaking. After what seemed a very long time, Broichan turned toward her once more and came to seat himself on
the bench nearby. She did not have to look up quite so far to meet his eyes. The druid’s grim expression had not changed.

“Speak up,” he said. “Do you understand any of what I’ve been talking about?”

Tuala’s mouth went abruptly dry; her tongue felt swollen and strange. She could not summon a single word. And she badly needed to use the privy, but there was no way she could ask him for leave.
She managed a nod.

“Tell me.”

“I—I—” She just didn’t seem to be able to speak. It was like a spell, a muteness charm come over her at the worst possible moment.

Broichan sighed. “Black Crow protect me from infants,” he said. “Come now. I’ve heard you chattering often enough. I know you can speak sense and I know you can understand. Let me set this out for you simply. You’re going away, and
if you are obedient to my wishes and do as Brenna tells you, then you may be, I stress may be, allowed to return to this house when the Midsummer visit is over. Ah, I see you do comprehend that; your eyes show it clearly. And it seems to matter to you. Of course, you view this as your home; there’s no other household the length and breadth of Fortriu would have taken you in.”

“Yes, my lord.”
Her voice came out as a whisper, the sound of a breeze in dry grasses.

“Do you understand about Bridei’s education?”

A nod.

“I don’t think you do, not fully. My foster son cannot afford the encumbrance of little girls taking up his time and distracting his mind from the
very real and very taxing path of preparation that lies before him. Increasingly, Bridei will be with other folk, either here
at Pitnochie or elsewhere. If I believe at any stage that you are likely to get in his way, I will ensure your removal from my household on a swift and permanent basis. Is that understood?”

She was quivering all over now, gripped by something so strong she could barely contain it: anger or terror, maybe both. “Yes,” she said, for although she had not fully grasped the words, their meaning had
lodged itself painfully in her heart.

“You are nothing to Bridei,” Broichan said. “His kindness won you safety for a time. That’s all it amounts to.”

She took a huge breath, clenched her fists behind her back. “Bridei is my family.” Her voice sounded very small in the big chamber. “I don’t tell lies to my family.”

Broichan shook his head gravely. “That is incorrect. If you have any family,
they dwell out there, deep in the forest. Bridei is a good-hearted boy who took pity on you as he would on an orphaned lamb. He’s no kin to you.”

“He’s no kin to
you
!” Tuala burst out, hurt robbing her of caution.

Broichan waited a moment before speaking. “He is my foster son,” he said levelly. “Entrusted to me for reasons of which you can have no conception whatever.”

This had to be answered.
“And I was entrusted to him,” Tuala whispered. He had better stop this soon and let her go or she would disgrace herself and leave a puddle on his floor, and then he really would believe she was an infant.

Broichan’s eyes narrowed.

“The moon left me here,” Tuala said. “Showed them the way, when they brought me. The moon woke Bridei up and helped him find me. The Shining One trusted him to look
after me. I am his family. I
am
.” She bit her lip, fighting tears.

“Listen to me, Tuala.” It was the first time Broichan had used her name; she’d been starting to wonder if he had forgotten it. “Do you understand the word
destiny?
”

She nodded.

“Tell me what it means.”

“It’s in the tales,” Tuala said. “The ones Bridei tells me at bedtime. Destiny is the big things that happen. Battles and voyages,
marriages and kingdoms. Fighting dragons. Finding treasure. Uncovering secrets.”

Broichan regarded her gravely; his eyes had lost some of their ferocity as she spoke. “I see Bridei has been assiduous in your education,” he said. His long hands were clasped in his lap now; Tuala saw the little silver snake lift its flat head, looking at her.

“I would like more education,” she ventured, encouraged
by the fact that she had apparently managed to answer a question to his satisfaction. “About the stars and the tribes and all the things Bridei is learning. He can’t teach me everything, he’s too busy.”

The druid’s lips tightened. “For you, too much learning can only lead to unhappiness,” he said. “Whatever life awaits you, there can be no place in it for knowledge such as this. You’d best apply
yourself to the domestic arts and hope for a good marriage. That can be arranged, when the time comes.”

Tuala was silent. Somewhere in his words was a terrible insult, but she could not untangle exactly what it was. The feeling of hurt, however, was unmistakable.

“Tuala,” the druid said, “come closer. Sit by me, here. You wonder, I suppose, why I speak of destiny. Child, you see Bridei as your
friend, your playmate, for all he is in so many ways a young man, even at twelve years old, and you a mere babe. It is not a bad thing for a boy to feel compassion for the weak. Up to a point. It is a fine thing for a lad to be obedient to the ancient ways, to comply willingly with what he sees as a request from the Shining One. However, don’t think you’ve remained at Pitnochie because of Bridei’s
wish that the household should give you shelter. You are here solely because, for now, I have chosen not to send you away. You are not one of us, and you never can be. Your fate rests entirely in my hands, Tuala. Never forget that. In my plans for the future, the only one who counts is Bridei. If you think you owe him a debt, if you want him to live his life in the best way possible, then you
will do exactly as I tell you. Bridei has a destiny. It is up to me to ensure he is raised correctly; that nothing, and nobody, gets in the way of the future laid down for him.”

Tuala swallowed. “Then why am I still here?” she croaked, feeling bitterness lodge in her throat, making her speak when silence would surely be far safer. “If I’m so bad for him, why did you let me stay at all?”

“You’re
not listening,” Broichan said. “There was a duty involved: the boy’s duty to the gods, as he saw it. In all such decisions one weighs the arguments and reaches a balance. I do not dismiss my foster son’s tale of how you came here; of the involvement of the Shining One. I accept his conviction
that he carries some kind of obligation. Indeed, it would be dangerous to disregard that. All that you
need to understand is that if you’re fond of the boy and want him to achieve all that he can, you will comply with my instructions. And my instructions, this time, are that you go away with Brenna for a while, and that you do not speak to Bridei of this. You do not raise any of these issues with him. He’ll come to a complete understanding of it all in due time.”

The little snake was moving across
Broichan’s hand now; he did not seem to have noticed. The serpent was hissing, the miniature forked tongue extended from the tiny gaping mouth. Tuala placed her own open hand next to the druid’s much larger one and the serpent flowed across to coil itself neatly on her palm, green eyes gazing up at her. It felt heavy for its size and carried the warmth of the druid’s body in its own. Tuala would
have smiled at its grace, its self-contained perfection of form, but for the feeling like a cold stone lodged in her heart.

Broichan was looking at the snake now. His expression showed no surprise, but he said, “This, alone, demonstrates with startling clarity your Otherness. You have grown up amongst us, have believed yourself accepted, no doubt. But this is a druid’s household, child. What
occurs here is no reflection of the conduct or attitudes of the world of men. As you grow older this will become ever clearer to you. It is very possible that Bridei, innocent as he was, did you no favors in taking you in that night. His act of compassion cut you off effectively from both worlds: the realm of your true kin, beyond the margin, and the world of mortal folk where you can never belong.
In fact, his desire to provide you with shelter robbed you of any true home.”