The Pool of Two Moons (9 page)

Renshaw ran as he had never run before, hampered by the weight of his drenched clothes, now freezing to stiffness on him. He saw the drawbridge ahead. Thankfully it was lowered, and he pounded up the road, trying to shout. He felt hot breath on his neck and then a great weight took him down, pain searing through him.

Anghus MacRuraich, Prionnsa of Rurach and Siantan, was brooding over a dram of whiskey, the firelight warming his boots, when there was an outbreak of noise and activity below. He raised his chestnut-brown head, but did not move. Soon the castle's chamberlain came, bowing respectfully.

"There is a seeker below, my laird," he said.

Instantly Anghus stiffened. "Here in the castle?"

"Aye, my laird. He was attacked by wolves and barely -made it here alive."
Pity,
Anghus thought bitterly. He rose to his feet, wrapped his black-woven plaid around him more securely and followed the chamberlain down the long and draughty stairs to the lower hall. There his gillie Donald was waiting, and some of the guards from the drawbridge. All speculating and explaining at once, they led him into the inner bailey, through the bitterly cold courtyards and gardens, the snow-swirled outer bailey, and so to the gatehouse. On one of the guards' beds lay a seeker, blood oozing from a wound to his temple. The back of his crimson tunic was torn, and Anghus could see he had been savagely bitten. He could hear howling and went to the narrow window to look outside. It was fully dark now, but he could see a great pack of wolves churning up the snow on the drawbridge. They were sniffing and growling at the scent of the wounded seeker.

One, a large she-wolf with a black upstanding ruff, was sitting calmly in the very center of the drawbridge, gazing up at the gatehouse with yellow eyes. He could see her clearly in the smoky light of the torches. It seemed as if she looked straight at him.

He knew the wolf. She was the matriarch of the pack that hunted the lands around Castle Rurach. He often saw her when he was riding in the forests. She would step out of the undergrowth and sit where she could watch him, her yellow eyes compelling. The MacRuraich Clan had a long affinity with wolves, their crest a sable wolf rampant, and many in Anghus's family had had wolves as their familiars. So although the pack around Castle Rurach had grown increasingly bold over the past few years, Anghus allowed no-one to harm them. It seemed his protection had been recognized, for although the wolves had attacked and harassed many a company of soldiers or merchant caravans, anyone wearing the device of the MacRuraich clan was never harmed.

"What shall we do with the seeker, my laird?" the gillie Donald asked. "Shall we throw him back to the wolves? We did no' realize he was a seeker until we'd driven off the wolves and brought him in." Anghus was severely tempted. He had no great love of the Awl, and neither did any of his people. It would be easy enough to say the seeker had died trying to reach them. He frowned and picked up the sealed scroll the seeker had carried, gripping it tightly. It was marked with the Banrigh's own scrawl, and he dreaded having to read what was concealed below the seals.

Unfortunately Anghus was reasonably sure the Banrigh had some method of scrying out those she liked to keep an eye on. Several times she had known things she should not have known. Like the stronghold of rebels that had taken up residence in the Tower of Searchers five years earlier. Anghus had been happy to let the rebels have the burnt-out pile of ruins, as long as they did not hunt out his forests. He could not see what harm they could do there, so far away from anyone.

The Banrigh had thought differently. She had sent companies of soldiers into Anghus's land and had taken his young daughter hostage in a clever and underhand move, capturing the child as she played by the burn while the women washed the linen. The men had all been absent on a hunting trip and had only heard of the outrage when they returned, six days later.

"She is hostage," the seeker in command had said coldly, "due to the Prionnsa Anghus MacRuraich's failure to root out rebels and witches as the Righ had decreed. If ye do no' lead the Banrigh's guards to their hiding place, your little girl will be killed."

Anghus's daughter was dear to his heart, and only six years old. As much as Anghus disliked the Red Guards, who had grown cruel and arrogant since the Day of Reckoning, he had agreed to lead them to the Tower. He had been half tempted to try and warn the rebels but had been too afraid of the danger to his daughter to attempt it.

So the rebels had been wiped out, and Anghus had ( been set to find any who had escaped. He had done so reluctantly but efficiently, wondering who had told the Banrigh he could find anything once he knew the quarry. For there was no doubt she knew. The wording of the message had been cleverly phrased to show he should not attempt to deceive her by protestations they had escaped him. Only one witch had he let escape, his sister Tabithas's apprentice, and only because he had known Seychella Wind-Whistler for years. As a young woman she had saved both him and his sister from drowning. The three of them had been boating on the loch below Castle Rurach when a fierce storm had blown up unexpectedly. Seychella had controlled the turbulent winds, taking the boat to safety and diverting the storm's path. In memory of that day, he had let Seychella escape, shielding his thoughts when they interrogated him as he had been taught in his years at the Tower.

With a cold and heavy heart, Anghus said, "Nay, tend him, and when he is well enough take him to the castle and put him in the third best bedroom. I will see him when he has recovered his wits."

"Be ye sure, my laird?" Donald said in a low voice. "It be no trouble to dispose o' him. We can do it early this morn, when all are asleep . . ."

Anghus shook his head. "It is too dangerous, my auld friend. Let him live. I shall accept what comes." When he climbed the stairs to his own quarters, Anghus found his wife Gwyneth waiting for him. Dressed in a warm velvet gown, edged with fur, her fair hair rippled down her back, almost to her knees.

"I heard there is a seeker at the gate," she said in a tense voice. Once beautiful, her face was marked with grief and sorrow now, the luster of her green eyes dimmed. He nodded.

"Have they brought back our bairn?" she asked, twisting her hands together until the knuckles gleamed white. He shook his head, unable to meet her eyes. She slumped in disappointment, turning away.

"I think the seeker has come with further orders for me," he said in a gruff voice. His wife said nothing, just left the room swiftly, her downcast face glistening with tears.

Anghus tossed back a full dram of whiskey and poured himself another, his red-bearded face somber. For a moment he considered defying the Banrigh. Castle Rurach had never been breached, not even through the long years of civil war that preceded Aedan's Pact and the crowning of the first Righ. The mood of defiance lasted only a moment, however. Sure as he was that Castle Rurach could withstand most forces, he had a healthy respect for the Banrigh. Had she not thrown down the Towers and all the witches in them? Despite her protestations, the Banrigh must have some terrible power at her command. How else had she triumphed so totally, that dreadful day so long ago?

Anghus had no great love for the witches or
uile-bheistean,
but neither did he hate them. His own sister had been a witch, and a very powerful one. She had been the youngest Keybearer since Meghan NicCuinn herself. When news came of Tabithas's banishment, he had grieved deeply and railed at the Righ who had so suddenly turned against the Coven. But what could he do? He just wished to be left alone with his people, to hunt
geal'teas
through the mountains, to fish the fast-running streams and idle away the bitter winters beside a huge fire, his wife beside him, his children playing at his feet. He gave a snort of desperate laughter. That was a merry jest! His only daughter had been stolen from him, and his beautiful wife, a NicSian, was slowly fading away with grief. Rurach was a wild, lonely country, not the place for a gentlewoman to overcome such a dreadful loss. There were no parties, no festivals, not even the occasional caravan of jongleurs to distract her from her grief. Although five years had passed, they had had no more children, for his beautiful wife no longer invited him to her bed. The seeker was well enough to be moved up to the castle the following day. He sent one of Anghus's own men to ' fetch him, an act that caused the MacRuraich's face to redden in anger. Nonetheless he went, changing first into his kilt and plaid to subtly remind the seeker who he was. The seeker sat at his ease in one of the carved chairs in Castle Rurach's great hall, a goblet of wine in one hand, his feet in furred slippers stretched to the roaring log fire. His shoulder was heavily bandaged, his arm resting in a sling. He made no attempt to rise to his feet or bow as he should have, instead waving Anghus nonchalantly to a chair. The prionnsa ground his teeth together and sat down.

"Glad indeed I was to wake up and find myself in the castle," the seeker said, failing to address Anghus by his title. "I had heard the wolves were growing troublesome in Rurach but I can hardly believe I was almost killed at your own doorstep. Why have ye no' hunted the wolves down and killed them? See to it."

Anghus was so outraged he could not speak, and that saved him, for it did not occur to the seeker that his commands would not be obeyed. He went on without a pause, "It is almost three weeks syne I left the palace on our blessed Banrigh's orders, and I have run three horses to death to come here . . ." Anghus's grudging admiration was aroused.
The man must have thigearn blood in him, to travel so
far so quickly.
Abruptly his blood chilled.
What urgent business could the Banrigh have that would
drive her messenger to such haste?

"As ye ken, our gracious Banrigh is anxious that the recent uprisings o' rebels be squashed fiercely, to reassure the peoples o' Eileanan that peace shall be kept in the countryside. The previous Grand-Seeker failed miserably in this task. In the past few months there have been increased reports of
uile-bheistean
activity, while the cursed Arch-Sorceress has again crawled out o' her hiding place and is wandering the land as she pleases, inciting the peasants to revolt and arousing the dragons' displeasure—"

"I had heard the Banrigh's guards had attacked and killed a pregnant she-dragon and that was the cause o' the dragons' rising," Anghus replied mildly. He was glad to hear Meghan NicCuinn was still alive, and he smiled inside to think the old witch was still causing trouble wherever she went. The frown on the seeker's face deepened, and he continued as if Anghus had not spoken. "—the untimely death o' the Grand-Seeker Glynelda was obviously the result o' evil sorceries, thrown as she was by her horse which had been ensorcelled by one o' the Arch-Sorceress's apprentices. The stallion had always been a biddable creature, but after being stolen by the young witch and ensorcelled by her, the Grand-Seeker Glynelda was unable to control him. Consequently the Banrigh has raised the Seeker Humbert to the position, and he has entrusted me with the task o' stamping out these eruptions o'

wickedness in Rionnagan and Clachan."

The Seeker Renshaw paused to preen himself, obviously pleased with his new appointment. He did not notice the frown on the prionnsa's face at the mention of the new Grand-Seeker's name, for Anghus knew Humbert of old. By the time Renshaw glanced up at the prionnsa again, Anghus's face was smooth, expressing only a patient interest. "He has assured me that your country Rurach has been wiped clean, with your noble assistance, and instructed me to request ye to undertake a similar cleansing in Rionnagan," the seeker continued.

Anghus nodded, though he felt sick at heart. It was true that Rurach was remarkably free of rebels and witches, but that was only because the Awl had sustained a ruthless and bloody slaughter over the past five years. The raid on the rebels at the Tower of Searchers had been swift and deadly, and any who may have escaped across the mountains to Siantan or Rionnagan would not return lightly. He had been forced to lead the seekers to where accused witches—mainly frail old women and men—had been hiding, and had had to watch as they were burned at the stake. Even worse, the Red Guards had enacted brutal reprisals against his own people for the aid they had given the rebels and had warned him more would follow if there was any sign of aid given to any enemy of the Crown, be they witch, rebel or faery. The seeker continued to list the misfortunes which had befallen the Righ in Rionnagan. Some of these, like the massacre of soldiers sent against the dragons at Drag-onclaw and the subsequent revolt of soldiers in the Sithi-che Mountains, Anghus had heard before. He knew of the Cripple, of course, and how he had again and again slipped through the clutches of the seekers. He also knew about the growing discontent of the peasants, due to the constant ravages of the Red Guards, for his own people muttered under the soldiers' yoke as well.