monologue. 'Those clothes are fine; I won't need your help.'
The servant blanched, her face going white. 'Young miss, if I've of-fended-'
Jenna waved her good hand to stop her. 'You haven't. I just… I'd prefer to dress alone. Tell my mam and the tiarna that I'll be down shortly.' She opened the door. 'Please,' she said, gesturing.
With a nod and bow, the servant left. Jenna closed the door behind her. She went to her pack, sitting at the side of the bed, and rummaged through it until she found the pouch of anduilleaf. She crumbled a bit of the herb and set it steeping in the teapot, then sank down on the bed. The bittersweet scent of anduilleaf wafted through the room, and that alone seemed to ease the pain a bit. For long minutes, she simply lay there, eyes closed, feeling the pain slowly lessen until she found she could move the fingers of her right hand again, then she went and poured her-self a cup of the brew. As she drank, she pulled
Eilis’ ring from the pocket, looking at it and turning it in her hand. She needed to know more, but she didn’t place the ring on her finger, uncertain. The specter of the an-cient Holder had seemed so bitter, so fey. Not someone Jenna would vol-untarily choose as an adviser. Come to where a Holder’s body rests, or touch something that was once theirs, and they can speak with you, if you will it. With the memory of Eilis’ words, Jenna sat up. She finished the anduilleaf tea, dressed quickly, and left her room.
She found her mam and Mac Ard in a parlor room leading out into an interior garden court, though when Jenna-directed by another servant- passed through it to get to the tiarna’s room, she found most of the plants were now brown and dead. The doors were shut, and a fire was roaring in the hearth. Mac Ard was standing near the fire, one arm still bound to his body and another bandage over his forehead. Maeve was sitting near him.
They had evidently been conversing, but both went silent as Jenna entered.
Food was laid out on a table near them, and Mac Ard waved at it with his good hand as Jenna entered. 'Have you eaten?'
'I’m not hungry,' she answered. 'What word is there on the Connach-tans or O’Deoradhain?'
Mac Ard shrugged with one shoulder. 'None. Three of the Connach-tans are dead-I know their faces, and the Ri Connachta won’t be pleased, as two of them are his cousins-and the others fled west, evidently leaving the High Road when it turned north. I sent men to the farm where we met O’Deoradhain-it wasn’t his land at all, it seems. There’s been no sign of him, and no freelander in the area knows him at all. I had someone find the Taisteal and speak with Clannhri Sheehan, who said that O’Deoradhain had come into the camp only a few hours before us. He was proba-bly a Connachtan as well.'
Three are dead, and two of them you killed. . Jenna swallowed hard, trying to keep her face from showing anything of her feelings. 'There’s talk all through Ath Iseal about mage-lights, clochs, and the Filleadh,' Mac Ard continued. 'The sooner we get to Lar Bhaile, the better. I’d like to set out tomorrow, if you’re able.'
The thought of more travel made Jenna grimace,
but she nodded. 'Whatever you think best. Whatever keeps us safe.'
'You'll be safe now,' Mac Ard told her. 'From here, I can promise that. The Connachtans won't dare come this far east. I never offered you my gratitude, Jenna,' Mac Ard said. 'But I do now. That's the second time you've saved my life. It's a debt I'll do my best to repay.'
'There's no debt,' Jenna answered. 'The first time, what happened was out of my control, an accident. This time. .' She took a long breath. 'I did it to save myself and my mam.'
'And me?'
'Aye, and you. Because-' Jenna stopped, looking at her mam. Mac Ard's followed the gaze, his dark eyes glinting in the firelight. He nodded, as if he saw something in her face that he expected to see, and pushed himself away from the mantle.
'The cloch of yours,' he said, his voice carefully neutral. 'I thought it was a clochmion, one of the minor clochs, one of the least. I think we both know better now. I think I could name the cloch you're holding.'
Jenna hurried to answer. 'I didn't know, Tiarna Mac Ard. I just found it, that's all. I didn't know what it was.'
'If you had, would you have given it to me? Would you give it to me now?'
Jenna didn't answer. She took a step back from him.
'You don't have to say anything,' he said. 'I can see the answer in your face.' His eyes held hers for a few breaths longer before he looked away. 'I have a dozen things to attend to if we're leaving tomorrow. Jenna, I'm glad you're feeling somewhat better. If you'll excuse me, Maeve. .'
He left the room, passing close by Jenna. She could feel the breeze of his passage.
'Come here, darling,' Maeve said as he left the room. She opened her arms, and Jenna sank into the embrace as if she were a small child again. As Maeve stroked her hair, tears came, surprising Jenna with their sudden-ness. She sobbed against her mother's breast as she hadn't done in years, and
Maeve crooned soft words to her, kissing the top of her head. Finally, Jenna sniffed back the tears and pulled away, rubbing at her eyes with her sleeve. 'How are you feeling this morning?' Maeve asked softly. Her eyes, concerned, glanced at the bandages around Jenna’s arm. 'You used anduilleaf again,' Maeve said.
'I had to,' Jenna answered. 'It hurt too much.'
Maeve nodded. 'You should know, Jenna. Padraic and I-'
'You don’t need to say anything,' Jenna told her.
'I understand, and if this is what you want, then I’m happy for you. Just don’t let him hurt you, Mam.'
'He won’t,' Maeve answered emphatically. Certainty tightened her face. 'We talked for a long time. I know what he can do and what he can’t do, and I’m comfortable with that. I understand his position; he understands mine. We’re. .' Maeve stopped and Jenna saw a broad smile spread across her face, twinned with a blush. 'We’re well suited for each other.'
Jenna hugged her again, and Maeve stroked her hair. 'Padraic is wor-ried about you, Jenna,' she said.
'Padraic doesn’t need to worry.' Jenna used his first name scornfully, as if she hated the taste of its familiarity. 'This seems to be my problem, not his.'
'He’d take the cloch and its burden from you, if he could.'
Jenna’s eyes flashed at that, and she stood abruptly, taking a step away from her mam. In the hearth behind her, a log crashed in a whirling cascade of sparks. 'He can’t have it. It’s mine.'
She pushed away from Meave, who let her go. 'That’s what he said you’d say, that you wouldn’t, that you couldn’t, willingly give it up now, even though it hurts you.' Maeve smiled sadly. 'I wish you could. I would do anything to stop you from being in pain, Jenna. I wish. .' She looked away to the fire, then back to Jenna. 'I wish you’d never found the stone. I wish Niall, your father. .' She stopped.
'What about my da?' Jenna asked.
Maeve shook her head. 'Nothing. He said nothing of this to me, but in looking back on how it was, I think he was always waiting for that cloch himself. I wonder now if he didn't bring it to Ballintubber himself, from Inish Thuaidh or wherever he came from before. If he'd lived, it would have been him who was up on Knobtop that night, not you.'
'And then Tiarna Mac Ard would have come.'
Her mam gave Jenna a knowing smile. 'I loved your da, Jenna. But it's possible to be in love more than once in your life. It's even possible to be in love with two people at once, even if it's dangerous and even though you know that those feelings will inevitably cause everyone pain. One day you'll realize that. I'll always love your da, and always cherish my time with him. After all, he gave me you.'
'And I'm all that's left. All the rest that we had is gone. I have nothing.' Her voice was wistful and sad.
'Most of it is gone, aye, except for a few things of his I took before we left. Wait here a moment.' Maeve rose from her chair and left the room for a few minutes, returning with a small wooden carving in her hand. 'Remember this?' she asked, holding it out to Jenna: a block of pine fitting easily into her palm and poorly carved into a representation of a 'seal and painted a bright blue, though wood showed through at several places where it had been scratched.
'Aye,' Jenna said. 'The seal I used to play with when I was a baby.' She looked at Maeve. 'Why that?'
'Your father carved it, before he left for Bacathair. When you lost inter-est in it, I kept it because it was his last gift to you. I’d forgotten I still had it until I was trying to find a few things to take when we fled. Here… it isn’t much, but you should have it back now.'
Jenna held it in her left hand as memories surged back: sitting on her mam’s lap at the table and laughing with her mam as the seal bobbed in a pan of water; tossing it angrily across the room one night because she was
