asked to sing again at an entertainment for the Tanaise Rig in five days, and he gave me a gold morceint for the evening. That's more than I saw for months in Ballintubber.' The grin spread, and Jenna impulsively reached up and kissed him. She started to pull away, but his arms went around her and he brought her close, cup-ping his hand around the back of her head. The kiss was long and deep, and Jenna wanted more, but it was late and the carriages were already waiting at the gates of the keep to take the extra servers and entertainers back down into the town. 'Jenna, when can I see you again?'
Stay, she wanted to say, but she remembered Banrion Cianna's admoni-tions, and there would be her mam's questions, and the pain in her arm was getting worse. . 'The day after tomorrow,' she said. 'You know the market in Low Town? I'll meet you there, when they ring the bells after morning services at the Mother-Creator's temple.'
'I'll be there,' he promised. He kissed her again, quickly this time, and held her hand-her left hand. He didn't touch the right. His fingers pressed against her. 'The day after tomorrow will seem like forever before it comes,' he said, and walked quickly away toward the gates across the courtyard. Jenna watched until he reached the gates and the gardai there pushed the inner door open. He went through, and she could hear that he was whistling. She smiled.
As she turned to go back into the keep, she saw movement at one of the windows: a shutter swinging closed. She glimpsed a face in the win-dow just before the shutters pulled tight, shadowed in the dim light of the moon and the torches around the courtyard.
Tiarna Mac Ard's face.
Chapter 21: A Familiar Face
'YOU will stay here with the carriage,' she told the quartet of gardai Tiarna Mac Ard had sent with her. The protest was predictable, but when she
invoked the Banrion’s name, they went sullenly silent. You see, she wanted to tell Cianna. You taught me well. I can play this game, too.
Low Town Market was crowded today. Wagons had come in from the surrounding farms. There was little produce-the fields had long ago been harvested, but there were horses for sale, sheep brought in for slaughter, milk and eggs, pickled vegetables, dried herbs. A spice vendor in from the port at Dun Laoghaire had set up a display, and exotic aromas from the distant lands of Ceile Mhor and Thall Mor-roinn wafted through the chill air. The sun beat down, driving away the worst of the chill. There was little breeze, and the respite from the cold had brought out most of the townsfolk. Jenna was surrounded by the movement and noise, the color and odors. Some of the tiarna from Upper Town were here as well, and they nodded to her as they passed, no doubt wondering why the Holder was walking unescorted through the city.
Jenna moved through the market, looking among the crowds for Coe-lin. The temple bells had rung as the carriage arrived at the market, but it would be easy to miss someone. She was beginning to wonder whether Coelin had forgotten her, and she closed her right hand around the cloch, remembering how Sinna had helped her. She let her awareness drift out-ward with the stone’s energy, seeing the crowd with the power and look-ing for the spark that would be Coelin. She could sense him, close by, and started to turn even as she heard his voice.
'Jenna!'
She turned to see him hurrying toward her. With a grin, he swept her and spun her around once, kissing her as she laughed. 'I’ll bet you thought I’d forgotten,' he said, wagging a finger in front of her face. She pretended to bite at it.
'I did not,' she answered. 'I had perfect confidence in you.'
He snorted. 'Hah! I saw your face when you turned.' He glanced around. 'I’m surprised they let you come here alone. I expected to see your mam, or servants at least. Armed and surly gardai, most likely, after what happened in your bedroom.'
'Armed gardai I had,' she answered. 'But I sent them away.' No, they’re following. . The energy she’d released before was fading slowly, but within the expanded shell of awareness she could feel one of them. She turned her head, and saw a garda ducking quickly behind the spice ven-dor's stall. 'Though they don't obey well. Don't look yet, but near the spice vendor's stall… '
'Here, let's look at this cloth. .' Coelin took her arm and guided her over to the nearest stall, pretending to show her the dyed wool there. 'Ah, aye. I see. You have a shadow, but not a very good one. Ring mail and leathers makes one conspicuous. Do you really want to lose him?'
Jenna nodded, and Coelin took her left arm.
'Come on, then,' he said.
With Coelin leading, they moved behind the stalls and into one of the alleys. Jenna could sense the garda's sudden consternation and feel him start to move through the crowd toward the stall where they'd been, but Coelin was running through a space between two houses, across a narrow courtyard, and on into another street. He paused, looking up and down the street and behind them.
'You've lost him,' she said to him.
'How do you know?'
'I know,' she answered.
He didn't question that. He simply smiled at her and kissed her again.
We're alone, then.' He glanced around at the people moving along the cobbled lane, most of whom were staring openly at Jenna, too well-dressed to be an occupant of one of these small, shabby dwellings. Away from the market square, the city had turned drab and dirty and crowded.
The central gutter was choked with refuse, rotting garbage and excrement, and the fetid smell wrinkled Jenna's nose. The people were as shabby as their surroundings, dressed in rags and scraps of clothing. A child stared her from a nearby door, her feet wrapped in muddy rags, her hair matted and wild, though her eyes were dark and clear. She smiled tentatively at Jenna, who had to force herself to return the gesture. 'Well, at least we're not where anyone knows you,' Coelin finished. He gave a mock, sweeping bow. 'And now where would you have me take you?'
'Somewhere other than here.'
Coelin glanced around, and she realized that he saw nothing unusual: these were the streets where he lived, too, and he didn’t see the contrast, because he hadn’t lived as she had for the last few months. Jenna could feel herself recoiling in instinctive disgust and revulsion. She could not imagine having to live here-she would rather call on the power of the cloch and destroy it, to cleanse the earth in fire and storm. And she won-dered: Is this the way Tiarna Mac Ard felt, when he first walked into our little cottage back in Ballintubber? 'There’s an apothecary I need to see,' she told him. 'Du Val, in Cat’s Alley.'
He glanced at her curiously, then shrugged. 'Let’s go this way, then, to avoid the market.'
They approached du Val’s establishment from below the market. Jenna half expected to see one of the gardai standing outside the tiny shop, but none of these men had accompanied her on her first visit. A few dozen strides from the sign, she saw a man, dressed as a freelander, come out the doorway and turn away from her toward the market.
She stopped, her hand on Coelin’s arm. 'What?' he asked.
'That man…' She knew him. Without seeing his face, she recognized the walk, the posture, the feel of him: Ennis O’Deoradhain, whom she’d last seen fleeing through the fields just across the River Duan near Ath Iseal. Jenna held her breath, wanting to duck into shadows and suddenly wishing that she hadn’t dismissed the gardai. Her hand went around Lamh Shabhala; if the man had turned, if he’d seen her and started toward her, she would have used the cloch and struck him down.
But he didn’t turn, didn’t seem to notice her at all.
'What about him?' Coelin asked. 'Who is he?'
Jenna shook her head. O’Deoradhain was hurrying away, already at the end of the lane where it opened into the Low Town Market. 'When…after we left Ballintubber, we met that man. I think he was part of the group of Connachtans who were pursuing us.' And if he’s here in Lar Bhaile, if he’s snooping around after me, then chances are he’s the one who sent the assassin. .
'Well, let’s go after him, then,' Coelin said, starting to pursue O’Deoradhain, but Jenna held
him back.
'No ' she told him. 'He's already too far away, and he may have friends with him. Let's talk to du Val.'
The shop was as pungent and dark as before, but du Val was in the front bent over one of his tables with a
