The Pool of Two Moons (43 page)

"Lose 'em or lump 'em?" Donald asked.

Anghus played with his crisp beard, then came to a decision. "Talk to them, I think. I like both Casey and the lad, and do no' wish to hurt them. We've used just about every trick we ken to shake them and they obviously do no' wish to be shaken. I would like to know why."

He rose, stretched and made his way down to the path. By the time Casey and Ashlin rode around the corner, they were sitting at their ease on boulders by the wayside, smoking their pipes. Casey reined in and observed them with expressionless blue eyes. Ashlin was not so reticent. His eyes lit up, a broad smile broke over his freckled face, and he clumsily urged the horse into a trot.

"So ye've decided to catch us up," Anghus said pleasantly, knocking out his pipe. "We wondered what happened to ye. Have a seat, we were just thinking about some lunch." Casey regarded him thoughtfully, then dismounted and strolled over to them, leading his horse. Ashlin was talking excitedly. He obviously thought that Anghus and Donald had become separated by accident in the storm, and he was delighted to meet with them again. Casey had no such misconception; Anghus could tell by his caged expression that he knew perfectly well that Anghus had lost them on purpose.

"And what happened to your delightful associates?" Anghus asked as they prepared a makeshift repast. Casey answered carefully, "They seem to have got themselves lost."

"Such a shame we do no' have time to wait for them," Anghus replied.

"For some reason they seem to think ye continued to head south into the woods," Casey said. "I heard them cry out they had found tracks ..."

Anghus's eyes gleamed green. He wondered if the soldier had had anything to do with that. Casey Hawkeye was a dark horse indeed.

"Wha' a pity. I was just beginning to feel an affection for Floinn Redbeard," Donald said. They saw Casey's hard mouth quirk at the corner, and knew the cavalryman had found the red-haired giant as objectionable as they had. Anghus began to wonder if he should take Casey into his confidence. He had found the cavalryman a good companion in times of trouble, cool of head, strong of arm and keen of eye. Surely it was too much of a risk, though. Nothing Casey had said had shown he was anything but loyal to the Banrigh. Anghus was still hoping to keep his intentions a secret—

he was not ready to declare Rurach and Siantan at war with the Righ, which is what any overt act of rebellion would mean.

The cavalryman accepted the food Donald handed him. "I wonder what it is ye hunt, my laird," he said, very politely.

"Hunt?"

"I have no' been able to help noticing the black wolf's nose is to a trail."

"Indeed?"

"Aye. I have heard that the black wolf never gives up the hunt once his—or her—nose is to the trail." Anghus laughed. He decided he liked Casey Hawkeye. "Unless a more attractive scent crosses his path," he said. "Any wolf will abandon a trail gone stale and anld when one more to his—or her—liking comes along."

Casey smiled and got out a long clay pipe, thoughtfully cramming in tobacco. Ashlin the Piper was listening closely, not sure he understood what was being said. Casey lit the pipe with his thumb and puffed away peacefully.

Donald and Anghus exchanged a glance, eyebrows raised. "Ah, ye're a smoking man," the gillie said agreeably and brought out his own worn leather pouch. "But how is it ye can afford smokeweed on a cavalryman's pay?"

"My uncle Donovan is harbormaster at Dun Gorm. The traders from the Bright Land were kind enough to gift him with a cord or two as they come through the rivergates. I had a parcel waiting for me at Dunceleste when we rode in from the Veiled Forest."

"Are ye a whiskey man too?" Anghus asked, bringing out his silver flask.

"And me a highlander," Casey said sadly. "That ye could be asking such a question." Anghus poured them all a dram, Ashlin's noticeably smaller. "To the future, then, my friends!" Iseult woke early the morning after their war conference, troubled by how much of their plan still relied on luck and happenstance. Gita was curled on a cushion and chittered to her as she dressed. She stroked him, knowing how much the little donbeag must miss Meghan, As soon as she stepped outside she became aware of being watched, and smiled. "Where are ye hiding this time, Finn?" she called. A chestnut-brown head popped up from behind a stack of barrels, a tiny black head with tufted ears appearing beside it. "I be here, Iseult," Finn called back, crawling out on her hands and knees.

"Do ye want to come to the loch with me?"

"Aye!" Finn jumped about in excitement, her legs below the short, ragged dress very skinny and very dirty.

"Do ye no' have any other clothes? Ye must be cold in that auld rag."

"Well, aye, I am almost always cold, but I've worn nothing else for years," Finn replied in surprise. "It used to be big for me—now I'm busting out all over."

"Do ye no' have any shoes?" Iseult asked, looking at her filthy bare feet, cut all over from thorns and sharp stones.

Finn's expression of surprise deepened. "Where would I be getting shoes?"

"Winter is coming, we shall have to see what we can do for ye," Iseult said, leading the way through the noisy camp.

Finn laughed. "It snows in Lucescere in winter; the puddles all freeze over and the wind through the auld city cuts like a dagger. I am used to it now."

"Nonetheless, there must be a cobbler here, and probably someone who can sew too. I shall make sure all ye children are warm before winter comes!"

Iseult stripped off to immerse herself in the loch, and after a while Finn joined her in the icy waters, splashing and squealing. Iseult made her wash the matted dirt out of her brown tangles and scrub her filthy feet with a bristled brush. The sound of her squeals brought the other children out of their caves, and soon the loch was bobbing with small heads, the air ringing with their shouts. Afterward Iseult made Finn show her how the elven cat climbed, and she watched with amazement as the kitten scrambled swiftly and easily straight up the out-curving cliff. Her sharp claws seemed to dig into the very rock face, and Finn said longingly, "See, if I had claws like that I could climb as easily!" An idea presented itself to Iseult like a gift from Ea, and she made her way back to the camp thoughtfully, Finn dancing and chattering along beside her. After they had eaten, Finn devouring half of Iseult's breakfast, they sought out Duncan, and Iseult explained her idea to him.

"Could we no' make shoes that are clawed like a cat's? Our wee Finn here says she can climb most walls but needs something to help her if there are no cracks or crevices. It seems she must be the one to breach the rampart behind the Tower o' Two Moons, but it is well known for being as smooth as glass. If we could attach spikes to her feet, would that no' help?"

"Well, we have a cobbler, o' course, but I dinna ken if he could make anything like that," Duncan said dubiously. He took Iseult and an excited Finn along to meet him, nonetheless, and after much exclamation the cobbler said he would try. He also promised to make sturdy boots for all the children if he could find the time, though he said the soldiers' feet must come first. Iseult also found the soldiers' tailor and asked him to make the children some warmer clothes before they left. He simply altered some old clothes to fit them, and soon all of the League of the Healing Hand were dressed in woolen breeches, cross-gartered under the knee, with long-sleeved tunics and jerkins on top.

The next weeks were spent preparing for the journey and working with the soldiers. Iseult found the rebels were mostly poorly trained, many of them mere crofters' sons or runaway apprentices. She and Duncan worked closely together and found a rapport beginning to grow between them. Although the big-shouldered man had hidden his feelings well, he had been both doubtful and suspicious of his laird's new wife. After a week observing her efforts, some of his doubt left him and he began to respond to her more readily.

Iseult also joined the daily hunting parties and impressed the soldiers greatly with her hunting prowess.
Meghan is no' here now,
she told herself.
Better to win the men to our cause than confuse them by
Meghan's peculiar notions.
Nonetheless, she found she could not eat much of the meat, preferring the roasted roots and vegetables.

As summer swung toward autumn, their preparations intensified. Lachlan and his party had to leave first, for they had a long and difficult trek ahead of them through the Whitelock Mountains. It was necessary for them to cross the Muileach River in order to come down behind Lucescere, and so that meant they had to climb deep into the mountains to cross the river near its source. There was no other way of fording the fast-running river.

Finn was determined to disguise herself before going anywhere near Lucescere, despite all Iseult's reassurances. She decided to dye her hair blonde, and keep her distinctive elfin features well smeared with mud. None of them knew how to dye brown hair blonde, but Iseult simply drew
The Book of
Shadows
out of the pouch and asked it. The pages riffled over by themselves, to the children's amazement, falling open at last on a recipe that promised to bleach hair with a paste made from the ash of barberry branches. Finn's head was wrapped in this putrid mixture for most of a day, and when at last the ashes were washed free, her chestnut-brown hair was a pale blonde.

That afternoon the cobbler came to Iseult with a collection of small but sturdy boots. He and the blacksmith had also designed and made a frame with twelve sharp, curved spikes for Finn to strap over her boots, with cruel-looking clawed gloves for her hands. The blacksmith had also made sharp skewers that could be hammered into any crack to give Finn a handhold.

Not allowing anyone to watch, Finn took them away to the end of the corrie. For the next four days she climbed trees and rock walls, practiced techniques with ropes and pulleys, and at last said she was ready to show Iseult and Lachlan.

In high excitement, the League swarmed around the little girl as she solemnly strapped on her claws and prepared to climb the cliff. Slowly but surely she clambered up the steep, smooth slope, making sure the hooks were dug deep into the stone before attempting to trust her weight to it. She slipped several times, but each time was able to cling on, though Iseult's heart was in her mouth. When Finn eventually reached the top of the three-hundred-foot cliff, cheers and whistles ran out all around the corrie. "She's just like an elven cat herself," Jay muttered to Dillon. "That's what we'll call her from now. on—Finn the Cat."

Two days later Anghus and his men rode into a valley at the very foot of the Fang. Anghus's Talent told him the winged man was straight ahead but there was nothing but a towering red cliff. He tried to sense Fionnghal but each time his perceptions grew confused and jumbled to the point of nausea, and so at last he desisted.

Early the next morning a cavalcade of soldiers came marching out of the very rock itself. Anghus and Casey glanced at each other in surprise, for they had seen no crack or fissure in the wall. Then Anghus cried out softly, for at the head of the cavalcade marched the hunchback, wrapped again in the black cloak.

By his side was the tall woman, a white tam o'shanter pulled low over her red-gold curls, and a blind old man with a raven on his shoulder. Behind them marched a troupe of children, led by a small boy who proudly carried a crude flag—a yellow hand on a blue background.

Anghus scanned the troupe of children anxiously, looking for the chestnut-brown hair of his daughter. The only girls among them were fair, one with a bunch of curls pale as flax. As his eyes passed over her, dizziness washed over him. He could not see, blackness whirling before his eyes. He took a step, meaning to call out to the MacCuinn lad, but his head was spinning, he could not tell which way was up or down. He stumbled and fell, rolling down the rocky hill.

Bruised, his hand and temple bleeding, he lay still. Faces dipped about him. He heard the MacCuinn lad shouting orders, then he was being carried. He was aware of a vast emptiness, sorrow, disappointment. Tabi-thas was whining at his side, tugging at his sleeve, trying to make him get up. His internal compass was spinning—he did not know where he was, he did not know what he did here. All he knew was that he was lost.

The Lammas Congress

A week before Lammas Day, the witch-banprionnsa of Arran, Margrit NicFoghnan, rode into Rhyss-madill. She came with a long train of servants and dependents, and a wagon loaded with gifts for the Righ. The kitchen hummed with gossip—everyone wondered what brought her to Rhyssmadill, and why the Awl had allowed a sorceress into the palace.

Isabeau sneaked away to catch a glimpse of her. She was a tall woman, dressed grandly in black velvet with gold brocade and lace. Her face was only delicately lined, but it was cold and disdainful. At her breast she wore the crest of the MacFoghnans, the flowering thistle. So rare was it for a MacFoghnan to visit a MacCuinn that the Righ got up to receive her.

He had been very ill, spending the days in his great, canopied bed. Latifa was concerned about him and made many a hot broth or posset to try and tempt his appetite and build up his strength. Isabeau was usually with her, for Latifa's herb lore was not as wide and deep as Isa-beau's. She was shocked by the Righ's sunken cheeks, the grayness of his skin, the irregularity of his heartbeat. He was only a few years past thirty, but he looked like an old man. She shook her head and met Latifa's eyes gravely, for he had the look of death about him.

The servants had been kept busy preparing for Lammas Day, an important festival in Eileanan. Not only was it the celebration of the first harvest, but the day when crofters and farmers paid their rents and taxes to the lairds, the lairds paid the prionnsachan, and the pri-onnsachan paid the Righ. The great hall at Rhyssmadill was thrown open for gifts of grain, rams, silks, precious stones and minerals, finely worked metals and bags jingling with coins. The prionnsachan came from all over Eileanan, some having spent a month in the traveling, for Lammas Day was traditionally a time to speak with the Righ and discuss problems and negotiate loans. With the land in turmoil from the raids of the Fairgean and the rebels, the Lammas Congress was expected to be tumultuous. Gwyneth NicSian came, representing her husband An-ghus MacRuraich of Rurach and her own homeland of Siantan, now joined as the Double Throne. She was a very beautiful woman, with a long, pale plait. She brought a wagon load of rare timbers, sacks of charcoal, and luxuriant snow-lion furs. The Prionnsa of Carraig, Linley MacSeinn, returned after an unsuccessful attempt to cross the mountains into Carraig. He was coiled up tight as a spring with anger and grief, for his son and heir had disappeared from the court in early spring, and all his attempts to raise the men and arms to win back his country had failed. Once the MacSeinns had been a rich clan, trading in furs, fish, base metals and Fairgean scales, but its wealth had been lost with the invasion of Carraig. A proud man, the prionnsa obviously found his position difficult, and there was much speculation in the kitchen about what he would have to say at the Congress.