'It certainly is,' she said. 'Who does it belong to?'
'A man from the east, that’s all I know. He rode in a while ago, stopped at the tavern, and asked Mam to send me to get the Ald. I think he’s Riocha; at least he’s dressed like a tiarna-fine leather boots and gloves, a jacket of velvet and silk, and under that a leine shirt as white as new snow, and a cloca over it all that’s as thick as your finger and embroidered all around the edges with gold-the colors of the cloca are green and brown, so he’s of Tuath Gabair.' Eli plucked at his own bedraggled woolen coat and unbleached muslin shirt. He plunged a hand into a pocket and pulled out a large coin. 'Gave me this, too, for getting Aldwoman Pearce and taking care of the horse.'
'Where is he now?'
'Inside. Lots of other people there now, too. You can go in if you want.'
Jenna glanced at the tavern, where yellow light shone through the streaks of gray rain. 'I might. Can I leave the barrow here?'
'Sure.'
There were at least a dozen people in the dim, smoky interior of the tavern, unusual in mid-afternoon. The stranger sat at a table near the rear, talking with Aldwoman Pearce. Jenna caught sight of a narrow face with a long nose, brown eyes dark enough to be nearly black, and a well-trimmed beard, a slight body clad in rich clothing, a delicate hand wrapped around a mug of stout. His hair was long and oiled, and the line of a scar interrupted the beard halfway to the left ear. Jenna could hear his voice as he spoke with Aldwoman Pearce, and it was as smooth and polished as his clothing, bright with the accent of the upper class and permeated with a faint haughtiness. The others in the tavern were pretending not to watch the stranger’s table, which made it all the more obvious that they were.
Coelin was there, also, sitting at the bar with a mug of tea and a plate of scones in front of him,
talking with Ellia. Tara was in the rear of the tavern, hanging the pot over the cook fire. Jenna went over and stood next to Coelin, ignoring the barbed glance from Ellia, behind the bar.
'Who is he?' Jenna asked.
Coelin shrugged. 'Riocha. A tiarna from Lar Bhaile, if he's to be be-lieved. The Tiarna Padraic Mac Ard, he says.'
'What's he talking to Aldwoman Pearce about?'
Coelin shrugged, but Ellia leaned forward. 'Mam says he asked about the lights-didn't Aldwoman Pearce foretell that the other night? Says he saw them in Lar Bhaile from across the lough. When Mam told him how they were flickering around Knobtop, he asked to speak to the Ald.'
'Maybe he'll want to speak with you, Jenna,' Coelin said. 'You were up there that night.'
Jenna shivered, remembering, and shook her head vigorously. She thought of those dark eyes on her, of those thin lips asking questions. She thought of the stone in its hole in the wall of her cottage.
'No. I didn't see anything that you didn't see here. Let him talk to the Ald. Or some of the others here who say they saw all sorts of things with the lights.'
Coelin snorted through his nose at that. 'They saw things with the ale and whiskey they drank that night and their own imaginations. I doubt Tiarna Mac Ard will be much interested in that.'
'Why's he interested at all?' Jenna asked, glancing over at him again. 'They were lights, that's all, and gone now.' Mac Ard's eyes glittered in the lamplight, never at rest. For a moment, their gazes met. The contact was almost a physical shock, making Jenna take a step back. She looked away hurriedly. 'I should go,' she said to Coelin and Ellia.
'Ah, ''tis a shame,' Ellia said, though her voice was devoid of any sor-row at all.
'Come back tonight, Jenna,' Coelin said. 'I made up a song about the lights, like you suggested.'
Despite her desire to be away from Mac Ard and the tavern, Jenna could not keep the smile from her lips, though the pleased look on Ellia's face dissolved. 'Did you now?'
Coelin tilted his head and smiled back at her. 'I did. And I won’t sing it unless you’re there to hear the verses first. So will you come?'
'We’ll see,' Jenna said. Mac Ard was still looking at her, and Aldwoman Pearce turned in her chair to glance back also. 'I really need to go now.'
As Jenna rushed out, she heard Ellia talking to Coelin- 'Keep your eyes in your head and the rest of you in your pants, Coelin Singer. She’s still just a gawky lamb, and not a very pretty one at that…' — then the door closed behind her. The cold rain struck her face, and she pulled the cowl of her coat over her head as she ran through the puddles to the barn and retrieved her barrow of peat.
She hurried back to the cottage through the rain and the fog.
Chapter 3: A Song at the Inn
JENNA had just lit the candles on the shelves to either side of the fire-place. The sun was down or lowering- the rain persisted, and the sky slipped from the color of wet smoke to slate to coal as the interior of their house slowly darkened. Maeve was peeling potatoes; Jenna was carding wool. They both heard the sound of slowly moving hooves through the drumming of rain, and Kesh lifted his head from the floor and growled. Leather creaked, and there were footsteps on the flags outside the door. Someone knocked at the door and Kesh barked. Maeve looked at Jenna.
'Mam, I forgot to tell you. There’s a tiarna who was at Tara’s. .' Maeve set down her paring knife and went to the door, brushing at her apron. She opened the door. Mac Ard stood there, a darkness against the wet night.
'I’m looking for Maeve Aoire and her daughter,' Mac Ard said. His voice was deep and gruff. 'I was told this was their home.'
'Aye, ’tis,' Maeve answered, and Jenna heard a strange, awed tone in her mam’s voice. 'I’m Maeve
Aoire, sir. Come in out of the wet, won't you?'
Maeve stood aside as the man ducked his head and entered. Kesh growled once, then slunk away toward the fire. 'Jenna, put your coat on and take the tiarna's horse out to the barn. At least it'll be dry there. Go on with you, now.'
By the time Jenna got back, Mac Ard was sitting at the table with a plate of boiled potatoes, mutton, and bread, and a mug of tea in front of him. Kesh sat at his feet, waiting for dropped crumbs. His boots and cloca were drying near the fire. Maeve sat across from him, but she wasn't eating. Her face was pale, as if she might be frightened, and her hands were fisted on the table, fingers curled into palms. She glanced up as Jenna came through the door, shaking water from her hood and sleeves. 'It's not raining as hard as it was,' she said, wanting to break the silence. 'I think it'll stop soon.'
Her mam simply nodded, as if she'd only half heard. Mac Ard had turned in his chair, the legs scraping across the floorboards. 'Sit down, Jenna,' he said. 'I'd like to talk with you.'
Jenna glanced at her mam, who gave her a slight nod. Jenna didn't sit, but went over to Maeve, standing behind her, and resting her hands on her Mam's shoulders even as Maeve reached up to pat Jenna's hand reas- suringly. One corner of Mac Ard's mouth lifted slightly under the beard, as if he found the sight amusing.
'I didn't expect to hear the surname Aoire, so many miles from the north,' he commented. He stabbed a potato with a fork, brought it to his mouth, and chewed. 'It's an uncommon name hereabouts, to be certain. Inishlander in origin.'
'My husband was from the north,' Maeve answered. 'From Inish Thuaidh.'
'Husband?'
'He's dead almost seventeen years, Tiarna Mac Ard. Killed by bandits on the road.'
Mac Ard nodded. He blinked, and the dark eyes seemed softer than they had a moment before. 'I'm sorry for your loss,' he said, and Jenna thought she heard genuine sympathy in his voice. 'For a woman as well-spoken and comely as yourself, he must have been an exceptional person for you to never have remarried. This is his daughter?'
Maeve touched Jenna’s hands. 'Aye. She was still a babe in arms when Niall was murdered.'
Another nod. 'Niall Aoire. Interesting. Niall’s not an Inish name, though. In fact, my great-uncle was named Niall, though he was a Mac Ard.' The tiarna sipped at the tea, leaning back in his chair. He seemed to be waiting, then took a long breath before continuing. 'Four nights ago, I was standing on the tower of the Ri’s Keep in Lar Bhaile, when I saw colors flickering on the black waters of the lough. I looked up, and I could see the glow in the sky as well, to the north and west beyond the hills. They were nothing I’d ever seen before, but I’d heard them described, in all the old folktales. Mage-lights.'
