'They’ll just switch one master for another, that’s all. No matter who rules, the crops will have to be planted, tended, and harvested, and the stock will have to be fed an watered. I know. I was once one of them and
I cared nothing for the Riocha in their keeps and estates. When you say Inish Thuaidh will fall, you mean yourself.'
If Aithne felt the lash of Jenna’s words, she showed none of it. 'Then perhaps you made a mistake not handing over Lamh Shabhala to y brother yesterday,' she answered with a gentle reproof. 'The Ri &r interest in Inish Thuaidh is mostly because you’re here, after all. If you’ve given him Lamh Shabhala, it might be that no army would come here at all.'
Jenna’s hand had gone protectively to her breast, where the cloch was hidden under her leine.
'Jenna,' the Banrion continued, 'there are times we’re drawn into something all unwillingly. No matter what you do, the Ri Ard considers you now to be part of Inish Thuaidh. You’re their enemy; nothing you say or do will change that, not until you no longer hold Lamh Shabhala.' Aithne stopped then, her gaze sliding to Jenna’s right hand and past to the white ashes of the pyre. 'You had something I’ve never had, however short the time,' she said.
'I envy you that, Jenna. What do you think he would tell you? Can you hear Ennis’ voice?'
'Aye,' Jenna answered immediately. 'I listened all night for it, asking him the same question. I heard the answer.'
'This is nonsense,' Moister Cleurach said. 'Banrion, we have no time to waste here.'
'Should I tie the First Holder to her horse and drag her back to Dun Kill?' Aithne answered. 'Is that something you want to try, Moister?'
Moister Cleurach glowered but said nothing.
The Banrion gave Jenna a soft smile. The tore about her neck glinted with the movement. 'Your Ennis spoke to you, truly?'
Jenna nodded. 'I hear him here,' she said, touching her breast.
'Surely you're not thinking of telling her to go,' Moister Cleurach said. 'That would be a tragedy for all of us, including Jenna.'
Aithne sighed. 'It's not a decision any of us need to make yet. Jenna, the High Road to the townland of Ingean na nUan is still two days' ride from here, and that's the road you'd need to travel to An Ceann Ramhar and eventually Thall Coill. We'll ride together at least that far, then we'll see.' She looked at Moister Cleurach warningly. 'And we'll speak of this no more today. A few days of thinking might do us all some good.'
Chapter 50: Roads Taken
THERE were barrows where their path met the High Road, which was little more than an unmarked trail heading vaguely northeast down from the hills. In the storm and rain, Jenna had noticed neither the High Road nor the barrows when they'd passed before. The mounds were over-grown, appearing as stony, weed-infested hillocks in the field alongside the path, the low sun draping long shadows behind them.
'They're old Bunus Muintir graves,' Banrion Aithne said, noticing Jenna's attention. 'There are a few barrows here in Rubha na Scarbh, and more in the northern townlands. As children, we were told they were haunted. We were warned to stay away from them or the wights would rise from their slumber and come for us. No more than tales, I'm sure. I know that I was shooed away from them more than once, and Aron as well. They say there are still Bunus living in the hills and people still saw them occasionally, though I never did.' She inclined her head to Jenna. 'There's only another hour or two of light. There's an inn we could reach in that time and stay in dry and warm rooms.'
'On the road to Dun Kill?'
A nod.
'I'm staying here tonight,' Jenna said. Moister Cleurach groaned au-dibly.
'I don't care to sleep another night with rocks digging into my back, he said. 'I'm an old man and I've been too many days away.'
'Then go on,' Jenna told him. 'Leave me here.
I'm going no farther today.'
Moister Cleurach looked at the Banrion. 'Rocks,' he said. 'In her head,
too.'
'If we stay out here, anyone can see our fire from the hills around us,' the Banrion said to Jenna. 'I know those with my brother will have eyes out there, reporting to him where we are. I doubt he would dare attack after the last time, but I don't know that for certain. He'd be less likely to do so if we're in a village, where others might be more inclined to side with the Ri in Dun Kill.'
Jenna said nothing, sitting on her horse and staring down to where the High Road led off through the heather. She felt more than heard the Banrion's sigh.
'We'll stay here,' Aithne told the attendants. 'Make the camp ready.'
The mage-lights that night were faint and weak, soft filaments that glowed fitfully and vanished. Jenna watched them while sitting between the bar-rows, away from the encampment and the fire, a blanket around her shoulders. Both the Banrion and Moister Cleurach had come to her ear-lier-Moister Cleurach demanding and gruff, Aithne soothing and under-standing, but both attempting to convince her to return to Dun Kiil. To both of them she gave the same reply: 'I'll decide by morning.'
She didn't know what she expected to happen during the night to ease the conflict within herself. The thoughts chased themselves, ephemeral and changing, impossible to hold or examine. She felt the conflict deep in her soul; when she tried to muddle through the choices in front of her, Ennis' face rose before her and the grief welled up again, overcoming her.
Once, she opened Lamh Shabhala, but there was only more confusion and contradiction in the voices of the old Holders and she closed it again quickly, returning to the near-silence of the night.
In the darkness there was the rustling of dark wings. A form appeared on the barrow to her left, a particle of night with black eyes that stared at her. A yellow beak opened. The creature cawed once.
'Denmark?' At the name, the crow cawed again and spread wide wings, gliding down to land in the grass in front of her. Its head cocked inquiringly at her. 'Denmark, is that really you?'
The crow cawed once more as she reached out toward it. It didn’t move, but let her touch the soft, black feathers of its head and back. She glanced about her. 'Seancoim, is he here, too?'
Denmark hopped backward, then flapped away again to the barrow, alighting there and cawing again. When Jenna got to her feet, the crow flew up again and landed just past the end of the grave, moving away from the fire and the encampment. Another caw. Jenna glanced back to where the Banrion and Moister Cleurach were sleeping, then followed after the bird. Fly several feet and wait; fly several feet and wait. The pattern went on for some time, until Jenna was well away from the camp moving steadily down and east into a wooded valley. Denmark led her along the bed of a stream tinkling merrily as it descended the slopes until it finally merged with a river wending southward through a stand of sycamores. Denmark cawed again, loudly this time, and flew off with a great flapping of wings, circling high and disappearing into the leaves of the trees.
'Jenna!'
The call was soft in the darkness, the voice familiar. She saw a flickering gleam of white beard in the shadows, and Seancoim stepped out toward her, leaning on his staff of oak.
'Seancoim!' She rushed to him, enveloping him in her arms and taking in the familiar smell of spices and herbs that exuded from his body and clothing.
'I can’t believe you’re here. How did you know, how did you get here. .?'
The old Bunus Muintir seemed to gaze past her with his cataract-white eyes, his hand holding hers. Denmark came flapping down from the branches above to land on his shoulder in a flurry. 'You still overlook the slow magics,' he told her. 'It was always the fault with most of you Daoine. You’ll likely ignore them entirely now, with the power you
wield with the clochs na thintri.' He took a long, slow breath and let it out again. 'I saw, I heard,' he said. 'Once this was Bunus Muintir land, and some of us still live here, hidden.' His blind eyes looked aside, but Denmark regarded her with steady, bright eyes. 'I came as quickly as I could. But it seems I've come late. I saw the pyre two nights ago, and I felt your anguish. I'm sorry, Jenna. I knew that there was to be love between the two of you. Even when you denied it back in Doire Coill, I knew.
I m sorry.'
