He stopped at the doorway, gazing at the crumpled body of the
assassin. He hurried over to the man as Maeve went to Jenna. He prodded the assassin's body with the tip of his sword, then knelt and pressed his fingertips against the neck just under the jaw, grimacing at the smell. She saw him glance at the small crossbow on the floor near him. 'Dead,' he said, rising again. 'And by his own hand, it would seem. Jenna, are you all right?'
'I'm fine,' she answered, trying to keep her voice from trembling. Her arm ached, burning cold, and there was ice in the pit of her stomach, making her want to vomit, but she forced it down, forced herself to stand erect and pretend that she was calm. Later, she could allow herself to cry at the remembered fear and the death. Later, she could run to the anduilleaf and its relief. But not now. .
'What happened here?'
Jenna pointed to the open door to the balcony, then to the quarrel embedded in the wall. 'He climbed up from outside and shot that at me, but… ' She paused, considering her words. She pulled away from her mam's embrace. 'I knew he was coming,' she said, more strongly, 'and I swept the bolt aside with the cloch, then held him. He killed himself rather than be captured; if I'd suspected he would do that, I would have stopped him, but I was too late. No doubt he didn't want me to know who hired him.' She watched Mac Ard's face carefully as she spoke- certainly it wasn't Padraic, not after all he's done. He's had a hundred better opportunities if he wanted them. . Yet she watched. Mac Ard was frowning and serious, but she had seen him speaking with the Ri and knew that he could keep his thoughts hidden from his face. She couldn't stop the para-noia from creeping back into her mind. He could easily tell an assassin where and when to find me.
'You 'knew he was coming'?' he said, his head tilted, one eyebrow raised.
'Lamh Shabhala can do more than throw lightnings,' she stated: Sinna's words. . His eyes narrowed at that; his mouth tightened under the dark beard and he turned away from her. He went to the quarrel and pulled it from the wall, sniffing at the substance daubed over the point. 'Aye, 'tis poisoned,' Jenna told him.
There was anger and fury in Mac Ard's face, but Jenna didn't know if it was at the attempt, or at the
failure of it. 'The garrison will comb the grounds, and those on watch tonight will be punished for allowing this to happen,' he said. 'I’m sorry, Jenna.
I will have gardai sent here immedi-ately. This won’t happen again.'
How convenient that would be… to have his own people around me all the time. 'Thank you, Tiarna, but I don’t need gardai,' Jenna said firmly.
'Jenna-' Maeve began, but Jenna shook her head.
'No, Mam, Tiarna,' she insisted. 'Get rid of… that.' She pointed at the body. 'Call the servants in to clean up the mess. But no gardai. I don’t need them.' She lifted Lamh Shabhala. 'Not while I hold this.'
Chapter 20: Love and Weapons
'SO far,' Jenna said, 'they tell me that they think the assassin was sent from Connachta.'
'Jenna. .' Coelin's arm went around her shoulders at that. For a moment, Jenna tensed, then she relaxed into the embrace, moving closer to him as they walked slowly along the garden path. The planted array in the keep's outer courtyard rustled dry and dead in the winter cold, and a chill wind blew in off the lough, tossing gray clouds quickly across the sky and shaking occasional spatters of rain from them.
Coelin had arrived early for the feast celebrating the winter solstice, the Festival of Lafuacht, to be held that night. Aoife had come running into Jenna's apartment, bursting with the news that the 'handsome harper' was in the keep and asking about her, and Jenna had sent Aoife to fetch him. Jenna could feel the warmth of Coelin's body along her side, and it felt comfortable and right. She knew there were eyes watching them, and that tongues would be clucking about the Holder and a lowly entertainer (and no doubt saying how 'common blood will tell'), but she didn't care. You sound as if you don't believe them,' Coelin said.
'I don't,' Jenna said firmly. 'What good would it do for Connachta to have me killed here, where someone else would simply become the Holder? That makes no sense unless the assassin himself was to be the I Holder, yet he wasn't from the Riocha families.'
But how else could someone from Tuath Connachta get the stone? You said none of the Riocha from Tuath Connachta are here. If that assassin was so loyal that he'd kill himself rather than be caught alive, he might be loyal enough to take the cloch to his employer without keeping it himself.'
'Maybe. That's what Tiarna Mac Ard said, too.' Jenna shivered as the wind shook water from the bare branches of the trees. 'I don't think so. I think he was hired by someone here.'
'Who?' Coelin asked.
'I don’t know. But I’ll find out.'
'Finding out could be dangerous.'
'Not finding out is more dangerous, Coelin.' She stopped, moving so that they stood face to face, his arm still encircling her shoulder. His face seemed bewildered and innocent with all she had told him, and she knew that she would have looked the same a few months ago, thrown without warning into this situation where agendas were veiled and hidden, and the stakes of the game so high. Looking at him, she saw reflected back just how much she had changed in the intervening months. He is a harper, and nothing more-right now singing is enough for him and all that he thinks about. If he has ambition, ’tis to be a Songmaster like Curragh, who plucked him away from a life of servitude.
'Jenna, you should leave the investigation to Tiarna Mac Ard and the others.'
'One of the others may have sent the man in the first place.' She hesi-tated, not wanting to say the rest. 'I can’t even rule out Tiarna Mac Ard.'
His eyebrows lifted, widening his sea-foam eyes.
'I thought he and your mam-'
'They’re lovers, aye,' Jenna said. 'But I’m not my mam, I’m not his blood, and I hold what he was searching for when he came to Ballintub-ber. Wouldn’t it have been convenient, for him to be the first to find my body? He could have plucked the cloch from around my neck before anyone could have stopped him.'
'You don’t know that, Jenna, and I don’t believe it.'
'You’re right, 1 don’t know that and honestly, 1 don’t believe it’s true, either,' she answered. 'But I don’t know. I don’t know.'
He was looking somewhere above and beyond her, as if he could find an answer written on the stones of the keep. He shook his head as if to some inner conversation. 'Jenna. .' he began. 'This is so. .'
Jenna reached up, twining the fingers of her left hand in the curls at the back of his head. She gently pulled him down to her. The kiss was first soft and tentative, then more urgent, her mouth opening to his as he pulled her against him. When at last it ended, she cradled her head on his chest. He stroked her hair. 'Jenna,' he said. 'How can I help you?'
'I don't know yet,' she answered. 'But I will. And I'll ask when the time comes.'
'And I'll be there for you,' Coelin answered. He brought his head down hers again, and she opened her mouth to his soft lips and his hot, sweet breath and when his hands slid up to cup her breasts, she did not stop him.
'I can tell you this much about the assassin, Holder,' the Ri Mallaghan told her, his trebled chins shaking as his mouth moved. Nevan O Liathain stood at the Ri's right shoulder, frowning appraisingly at her as the Ri spoke and stroking his thin beard. 'He was not a Riocha that anyone here recognizes. I have people who would know such making inquiries in Low Town to see if he's a local, but I don't think so. We may never know who he was. I know that's of no comfort to you, but I assure you that the gardai here will be more…' He paused, and a smile prowled his face for just a moment.'. . vigilant from now on,' he finished.
Jenna knew that the gardai on watch that night had been imprisoned, and the sentry assigned to the north side of the keep nearest Jenna's room had been executed in front of the others as an example. The punishment had been exacted before she could protest and without her consent. She suspected that it never occurred to the Ri to inquire about her feelings-it was his domain, and he did as he wished.
It's also true that dead men don't talk, if they'd been told to look the other way and their knowledge of who gave them the order was now a danger. The Ri Gabair has the money and the knowledge and the desire, as much as anyone here.
She smiled blandly back at the Ri. 'I appreciate your efforts, Ri Mal-laghan. Your concern for my well-being is gratifying.'
The Ri laughed at that, his body shaking under the fine clothing. There, you see, Nevan-as fine a response as any Riocha could have fashioned.
