Deception's Pawn (Princesses of Myth) (18 page)

Departures and Returns

F
INTAN THE BARD
was back on the road two days after he arrived, heading south to serve his king, Rus of Laigin, once more. Everyone missed his voice, for no other bard lived at Dún Beithe, but I think Lord Artegal and Lady Lassaire were relieved to see him go. It meant they could put an end to offering rich feasts every night and go back to our more modest and sensible winter fare.

The moon’s face changed as the dark part of the year slowly retreated and the light advanced. The festival of Imbolc came, which meant spring would soon be with us. My friends and I fell back into the old cycle of instructions with Lady Lassaire, though now that Bryg was a part of all that, our lessons and chores weren’t as tedious. She loved to sing as she worked and she always persuaded Ula to join her. If I’d known that the tall, reserved girl had such a wondrous musical gift, I would have begged her to sing for us long before Bryg’s return. Ula’s
pure, sweet voice was as refreshing as a drink of cool water for a weary traveler.

I liked Bryg. She made things lively. Where did she get such a talent? The People of the Mounds must have given her an enchanted bag always brimful of fresh ideas for keeping us entertained. I enjoyed the way she taught us games and songs. I
loved
the way she told us long, dramatic tales about the gods’ conquest of Èriu. My skin prickled deliciously when she spoke of how even they, the powerful Fair Folk, were in turn driven from the daylit lands, taking refuge underground or in the enchanted islands of the western sea. I was happy to call her my friend.

The other girls also seemed delighted to have her back. From the moment she awoke in the morning to the time she closed her eyes in sleep, they clustered around her, eager to hear what she had to say, eager to do whatever small task she set for them. If she forgot her embroidery, Gormlaith ran to fetch it. If she frowned over the portion of meat she was served at dinner, Ula insisted they trade dishes. I never heard Dairine laugh so loudly as when Bryg made a joke or agree so swiftly as when Bryg voiced an opinion.

I can understand why they’re acting this way
, I thought one morning as we all prepared for the new day.
They’re so happy to have their friend back that they can’t do enough for her. If the gods ever let me see Odran again, it would be the same. I’d become his shadow, his other self, clinging to every word he said, trying to guess his wishes, doing whatever would please him, giving him
—

I caught myself and chuckled.
No, I wouldn’t do any of that. He’d hate it and so would I.
I looked to where Gormlaith was
meticulously braiding Bryg’s thin, dull blond hair, though her own still hung loose and unkempt.
But Bryg doesn’t seem to mind it at all.

There was only one thing that troubled me about my new friend: she never seemed able to rejoice wholeheartedly whenever something special touched anyone else’s life. When a messenger brought Ula a new gown from her family, Bryg found a way to compliment it in such a way that we never saw Ula wear it. When Gormlaith discovered a gift of carefully wrapped honeycomb awaiting her on her bed and refused to give even a hint about who might have left it there, Bryg leaped to shield her from our lighthearted teasing. “Leave her alone, you three. Didn’t you ever want to pretend you had a sweetheart?”

Gormlaith opened her mouth, then closed it again. If she stayed mute, she’d look like a pathetic creature making believe she had an admirer who gave her gifts. If she revealed the truth—

What would they say if they learned it’s a gift from Connla?
I thought, looking at my friends.
Bold, handsome Connla, Kian’s closest friend, one of Lord Artegal’s foremost young warriors.

I could only imagine how they’d taunt her for having drawn Connla’s attention. And what would Bryg add to that spite-filled stew? It would all be a joke—that’s what they always said whenever they picked on someone—but Gormlaith wouldn’t be able to bear it. She’d reject Connla to save herself and end up breaking her heart.

There never seemed to be a compliment small enough for Bryg not to riddle with pinpricks. When Lady Lassaire praised Dairine for creating an especially elaborate embroidery design, Bryg said, “Isn’t that pretty! You should stitch that onto the
wrists of a tunic. Donnchadh will be the envy of every man when he wears your gift.”

She spoke as amiably as if she’d somehow remained ignorant of what every inhabitant of Dún Beithe knew: that Dairine’s short-lived romance with Donnchadh had ended when he publicly declared he’d taken another girl for his wife.

I saw tears drop from Dairine’s eyes onto the cloth in her lap. The next time we all gathered to do our needlework, she had a blank piece of fabric and we never saw her beautiful design again.

Oddly enough, I was the only one who escaped Bryg’s nettling tongue. She always spoke to me with simple sweetness. If I’d been a different sort of person, I’d have told myself,
It’s a shame the way she sometimes jabs at the others, but if it really bothered them, wouldn’t they fight back? I’m just happy it’s never me.

Maybe I was too foolish to stay comfortable while others suffered. The day after Dairine abandoned her fine needlework pattern, I sought a moment alone with Bryg.

I found her just outside the storehouse where Ea perched. She was talking intently to Kian, who had a small piece of raw meat in one hand. I hailed them both.

“Maeve! You’ve come at the best possible time.” Kian grinned and brandished the bloody scrap. “I’m just going to feed the kestrel. Do you want to do it?”

Bryg gave him a searching look. “You let her?”

“Why not? She’s marvelous with the bird. Come on, Maeve.” He led us into the little building and picked up our leather armguards from their place atop a heap of ash wood poles that would someday be spears. “Here you go,” he said, tossing my sleeve to me. “Let’s show Bryg how we handle this
pretty bird. Do you want to take her out and practice bringing her back with the lure? I haven’t forgotten about teaching you to use it; I’ve just been busy since that time we were interrupted by
Lord
Conchobar.”

Was that sarcasm? I couldn’t tell because I was immediately distracted by what I saw on Bryg’s face. Her expression danced back and forth from amazement to disbelief to annoyance to curiosity, before it finally settled on a smile so wide and dazzling it was my turn to be surprised.

“I would love to see that, Lord Kian,” she said. “I’m so glad you found someone to help you care for this dear bird of ours while I was away.”

“Didn’t you think I could do it myself, Bryg?” he asked with a wink.

Two bright-red spots bloomed on her sallow cheeks, and in a strangely husky voice she said: “I only meant—”

I stepped in to set her at ease. “Kian understands. He’s just being a mean little boy, teasing you because he’s in your debt and knows it. He told me you’re the only reason this bird is alive today.” I clasped her hands. “I owe you thanks as well. She’s an amazing creature. I’m never happier than when I watch her fly.”

“Oh?” Bryg’s gaze shifted to Kian. “How often is that?” she asked him.

“Not as often as I’d like,” he replied casually. “She manages the bird almost as well as I do, and without a moment’s fear. I’ve never met a girl that bold. Remember when you were healing this little kestrel, Bryg? How you squeaked and jumped back when she tried to nip you? You wouldn’t go near her after that. I had to salve and bandage her while you told me how to do it from three arm lengths away.” He laughed.

Bryg and I didn’t share his amusement. “Lord Kian—” she began, but I was so irritated with him that I cut her off.

“Very funny,” I said crisply. “Did you ever think of what would’ve happened if Bryg had been bitten? Lord Artegal would have destroyed the bird! If you don’t know the right way to thank her for saving Ea, at least be grateful she had the sense to protect her.”

Kian was shamefaced and said he was sorry, but Bryg only half-heard his apology. Her attention was focused on me. “Ea?” she repeated.

How had my beloved kestrel’s name slipped out, after I’d spent so long concealing it? It may have been a silly impulse to keep it secret, but her name was like Odran, a special part of me. I couldn’t speak of either one of them without opening my heart. Though I thought Kian and Bryg were my friends, the bond between us didn’t run deep enough for that. Not yet.

“You named her!” Kian exclaimed. “Good idea. We name our hounds and our horses and Father’s always chosen fine names for our best bulls. Ea!” The kestrel turned her hooded head in his direction. “What do you know? She likes it.” He was delighted.

“If that’s all it takes to make you happy, Lord Kian, why did you wait?” Bryg said drily. “I suggested naming the bird long ago.”

“Yes, but I couldn’t name her
properly
then.” Kian was oblivious to Bryg’s deepening frown. “I had to wait for Maeve to tell me Ea’s a female. Not even you knew that.”

“I apologize for my stupidity.” The bard’s daughter looked ready to bite someone.

“Ea—Ea’s a name that would serve if she were male too,” I
said, trying to head off the storm. I needed Bryg to be in good humor if I were going to succeed in persuading her to soften her ways. “What would
you
name the bird?” I asked her.

“Nothing that Lord Kian would like, I’m sure. It wouldn’t be
bold
enough to suit him.” She strode out of the storehouse.

“What’s gotten under
her
skin?” Kian was honestly baffled.

I wanted to go after her, but when I tried to leave, he caught me by the hand. “Don’t you want to feed Ea?” he asked. When he said her name, it sounded wrong to my ears.

“I should follow Bryg. You hurt her feelings.”

“Me? What did I say?” He wasn’t trying to excuse himself by faking ignorance. He had no clue that he’d done anything wrong.

I sighed inwardly. It would take too long to help him understand his mistake and still catch up with Bryg. “Never mind. I’ll find her and try to make things right between you again.”

“You make it sound like she’s my sweetheart.” There was that guileless grin again. “She’s a nice girl, and she did heal the kes—Ea—but she’s just another of Mother’s fosterlings to me, so don’t worry.”

“Worry? Kian, I don’t care what she is to you, but she’s my friend, she’s upset, and I have to do something about that.”

“Too late now, Maeve,” he said. “You won’t be able to find her. She’s like a little gray mouse, able to hide anywhere. You remember how I told you she went grief-mad over her brother’s death? Well, when Master Fintan was about to take her to Avallach for healing, she hid herself so well that everyone thought she’d run away. We searched the woods, the fields, the bogland—”

“The way you looked for Aifric,” I murmured.

“Yes.” The lost girl’s name cast a spell that robbed Kian of his smile. “Thank the gods this search had a better ending.”

“Where did you find her?”

“We didn’t. She appeared after four days, of her own will. She’d been within the ringfort’s walls the whole time, though we never did discover where. Don’t bother seeking that one unless she wants to be found.”

“I still have to try.”

I left Kian and made a search of Dún Beithe, high and low, but I didn’t find Bryg. Frustrated, I trailed back to the storehouse just in time to see Kian giving Ea the last bit of meat.

He saw failure on my face. “What did I tell you?”

I joined him by the perch and stroked Ea’s feathers. “I’ll speak to her at dinner,” I said. But I couldn’t help thinking,
If she’s there.

She was. I’d gone early, hoping to greet her, only to find she was already waiting. “Maeve, keep me company!” she called across the round hearth with its simmering cauldron. I was relieved to hear her speak so cheerfully. She gave me a hug before seating me at her side.

“I’m sorry I bolted, but I was going to pick up a spear shaft and knock Lord Kian’s head off if I stayed.” She cocked her head, mischief in her eyes. “Do you want to scold me for leaving you alone with him … or thank me?”

“Has Dairine been teaching you how to fish for gossip?” I joked.

“Silly Maeve, who do you think taught Dairine that skill in the first place?” The other girls arrived to find us giggling
together. When they wanted to know the reason, we could only laugh harder until we collapsed breathless against each other and almost slid off the bench.

This turned out well
, I thought as I ate my dinner.
Bryg’s not mad at me. I’ll be able to talk to her about treating Gormlaith, Ula, and Dairine more kindly. Tomorrow, then!
I looked forward to making life more pleasant for all of us here at Dún Beithe.

“Lord Artegal! My lord, come to the gate!”

Every warrior present leaped to his feet as young Bran, Dairine’s onetime “suitor,” charged into the great house, spear in hand. The raindrops clinging to the points of his hair and the fibers of his cloak showed he’d been standing sentry duty while the rest of us ate. Now he came into our midst, sounding an alert that might easily turn into an alarm.

“A rider’s on the way,” Bran declared. “He’s coming fast and he’s almost to the foot of the ringfort mound. He must be bringing vital news or why would he be daring the road after dark?”

Lord Artegal wasted no time on questions. He strode past Bran, motioning for his men to follow. They poured out into the night to greet whatever fortune, good or bad, had come to Dún Beithe. Lady Lassaire rose, her face strained with anxiety. Her women closed in around her, some reassuring her that the rider might bring
good
news, others nervously mumbling their own fearful guesses as to just how bad the news would be.

“What do you think has happened?” Ula whispered.

“I’ll bet someone died,” Dairine said.

“Shhh! Don’t say that, you witless thing.” Ula gave her a
hard nudge and nodded to where Bryg sat turned to stone. “She
remembers
.”

I put my arms around the bard’s daughter and spoke firmly: “A man who’s carrying that kind of news wouldn’t ride through the dark to deliver it.”