mam as she had comforted Jenna a thousand times over the years, but she couldn’t make herself move. She hid herself behind the mug of leaf-brew, sipping and inhaling the steam as she watched her mam sniff and blot her tears with the sleeve of her leine.
Jenna could see the swelling curve of her mam’s belly. She could feel the life inside, glowing like a banked fire in a hearth.
'Maybe,' Maeve said, 'Padraic should be the Holder.' She wouldn’t look at Jenna. 'Maybe that’s what should have happened.'
'Is that what Da would have wanted?' Jenna retorted. 'Or have you already forgotten him and the fact that Lamh Shabhala was once his?'
Maeve turned, her cloca flaring outward with the sharp motion. 'I will 'ever forget Niall. Never. And
I can’t believe that you’d be cruel enough to even suggest that.'
Guilt made Jenna momentarily forget the throbbing coldness in her arm. 'Mam, I’m sorry…'
There was a tentative knock at the door and one of the servants stuck her head in. 'Pardon, m’ladies, but Coelin Singer is here asking to see the Holder.'
Maeve was still glaring at Jenna. 'Tell him he may
come in,' Jenna said. 'In here, Holder?' the servant asked.
'Do you not have ears?' Jenna snapped. 'Aye, here. If the Tanaise Rig doesn’t like it, then he should have left his own people to stand guard.'
The servant looked at Maeve, who shrugged. 'The Holder obviously doesn’t care to have anyone else suggest what she should do or question her commands.'
The servant fled.
'Mam-' Jenna began, but then the door opened again and Coelin entered. His face was full of concern and question, but he seemed startled when he saw Maeve.
'Oh, Widow Aoire,' he said, nodding to Maeve and glancing once at Jenna questioningly. 'I don’t mean to disturb…' He gestured at the door. 'I can wait in the outer room.'
'Stay. Maybe you can talk some sense into the girl,' Maeve said to Coelin. 'I obviously can’t tell my daughter anything. She would rather learn from her own mistakes, I suppose. Just see that you’re not another one, Coelin Singer.' Maeve didn’t turn back to look at Jenna, but walked out of the room. The sound of the door closing was loud in the apartment.
'What was that about?' Coelin asked. 'Jenna? I saw the lights, and thought that you might-'
Jenna shook her head. 'Don’t talk,' she said. 'Just. . come here. Please. Hold me.'
Coelin, with a glance back at the door, went to the bed in two long strides. He took Jenna up in his arms.
'Kiss me,' she said. 'Make me forget about all this for a little bit. .'
And, for a time, she did.
Chapter 26: A World Changed
DEER Creek ran at the bottom of a steep ravine. Above, to the north, was the city of Lar Bhaile; south rose the steep and stony flanks of Goat Fell with the Ri's Keep perched on top. Not far beyond the bridge that linked Low Town to Goat Fell and the ramparts of the keep, the creek widened and fanned out into a marsh-clogged mouth before flowing into Lough Lar. To Jenna's mind, Deer Creek was more river than creek, nearly twice as wide as the Mill Creek that ran past Ballintubber, deeper and faster.
And Deer Creek had seals; one, at least: on a flat slab thrusting out of the rushing water, a dark, shiny-furred head watched as Jenna made her way down the path from the Ri's Market Square. Getting away from the keep had been easier than Jenna had expected. After the incident with the gardai, no one voiced an objection when she left the keep unescorted except by two chambermaids. Jenna noticed that another carriage de-parted the keep immediately after they left, and that the square seemed particularly well-populated with gardai. Jenna had opened the cloch slightly, letting its energy spread out over the square-there were at least a half dozen tendrils of attention leading to her, none of them overtly dangerous but all watching.
And down in the hawthorn-choked ravine, another: O'Deoradhain.
The chambermaids were easy: she gave each of them a morceint and told them to go buy whatever they liked. It took time to lose the gardai, but she eventually managed to lose all the watchers and sneak away to the wooden stairs leading down to Deer Creek and a small patch of meadow there where a few people sat fishing despite the cold. Jenna. stayed under the trees, moving east along the creek and away from the meadow, where someone glancing down from the market above wouldn't easily spot her. She saw movement out in the creek-the seal rose from the cold water and clambered onto one of the flat rocks in the middle of the stream.
She could sense O'Deoradhain in the tangle of woods huddled against the steep bank. Jenna shivered and wrapped herself tighter in her cloca, one hand grasping the stone on its chain, ready to
open it fully and strike the man down at need. 'You could have at least picked a warm place to meet,' she called out to where he hid.
There was a rustle of dry brush and leaves, and O’Deoradhain stepped out. One arm was in a sling, but there was a knife at his belt, and Jenna watched his free hand carefully, knowing how quickly he could move with that weapon. She stayed ready to strike if his fingers strayed near the hilt. 'If it were summer, the midges would be out. Would you rather be cold or bitten to death?'
The seal out in the water gave a coughing roar, and Jenna glanced again at the creature. It was a large bull, its head up and alert and staring back at them. Its coat was coal-black, yet deep blue highlights gleamed within it, like sparks struck from a flint and steel. O’Deoradhain looked toward the seal as well. 'There aren’t usually seals in Lough Lar,' he said. 'Some-times in Lough Dubh, aye, but they don’t usually come up the Duan this far.'
'For an Inishlander, you know a lot about Tuath Gabair.'
'I’ve been here a long time now,' O’Deoradhain answered, turning away from the seal and looking back at Jenna. 'Ever since the Order decided that Lamh Shabhala might be in Gabair. Almost two years now.'
Jenna cocked her head at that. 'And how did you know that Lamh Shabhala was here before the mage-lights came?'
O’Deoradhain shrugged, grimacing as his bandaged shoulder moved. 'Some in the Order know the magics of earth and water, the slow eternal spells. I know a bit of them myself. Ordinarily, that means little, but as the Filleadh approached and the mage-lights started to strengthen even though none of us could see them yet, those with the skill could feel the resonance through their own spells. They knew and they started to search, and they realized that Lamh Shabhala had once been on Inishfeirm and that they had lost the cloch. It wasn’t hard, then, to know who had taken it-your great-da. What took time was discovering where he had gone and what had happened to him.'
'So they sent you? Alone?' Jenna scoffed. 'Why didn’t they send every-one? Why isn’t Gabair filled with people from the Order?'
O'Deoradhain gazed back placidly into her mocking stance. 'If all of Inishfeirm suddenly came here, then everyone would suspect why and everyone would have been searching for the cloch. And there are only a few who are capable of being the Holder of Lamh Shabhala.'
The way he said it lifted the hairs on Jenna's arms with a sudden chill that was not the cold air. 'A few like you?' she asked.
O'Deoradhain nodded. 'That's what I was trained to do.' Jenna took a step back from him. 'Jenna,' he said. 'Use the stone. Look at me. I'm not a threat to you. I'd take the stone from you if you gave it to me, aye. If you'd died the other day in my room, I'd have taken it then, too. But I won't harm you to become the Holder.'
That might have been true; she could feel no danger to herself emanat-ing from him. Yet… 'I don't know that,' she said. 'Even with the cloch.'
O'Deoradhain smiled, which softened his rugged face. 'You're right. You don't know that, and I'll tell you that there are ways to hide yourself from a cloch na thintri, even Lamh Shabhala.'
'And you know them.'
'I do.'
'Then I can't trust you.'
'Perhaps not,' he answered. 'But you can't survive alone. Not for long, and not with what you hold.'
'I have those I can trust,' Jenna replied with some heat, and- strangely-O'Deoradhain chuckled at that.
'Who? Mac Ard? The Ri and Banrion? That self-centered boy from your old village?'
