Odhrán stared at his own hands, lost in thought. She placed her hand on his shoulder, making him look up, his eyes begging for understanding. She granted him a sad smile. “We will always be friends. I am content as long as we maintain that friendship. It’s the part of us I cherished the most.”
His tentative smile deepened into genuine pleasure. “Wonderful. I worried so much about this talk. I even delayed returning out of worry you’d detest me.”
She clasped his hand and squeezed. They needed no more words.
* * *
The dappled sunlight speckled the rocks as they peered into the swirling water. A strand of Clíodhna’s hair fell into her face, a streak of white which had appeared since her return to the mortal world. She tucked it behind her ear with exasperation. “Fingin, do pay attention. Now, see how this dark stuff edges the water sprite’s fins? Something is in the water, something poisonous.”
The boy nodded after peering at the sprite’s damaged fin and glanced up at his grandmother. “But what made that happen?”
While wrinkling her nose, Clíodhna glanced upriver. “Judging from the stink of urine, that tanner’s to blame. He dumps stuff into the water, with no heed to how it poisons the wildlife or Fae. I’ve a mind to speak to him about it.”
Fingin bowed his head. “I don’t like the tanner. He’s loud. His voice hurts my head.”
With a chuckle, Clíodhna patted the boy on his shoulder. “He’s loud, true enough. But I can be louder if I put my mind to it. Would you like to come along? Or do you prefer to go home?”
He stuck out his chin. “I want to come with you. If I go home, Da will give me work to do.”
They walked along the shore to the tanner’s roundhouse, the huge workshop in the back perched on a low cliff over the river. Even as they watched, someone tossed a bucket of sludge out the window and into the water below. The stink of urine, lime, and salt drifted from the noxious waste, making them both sneeze.
With Fingin in tow, Clíodhna marched up to the workshop door and peered in. She could make out very little in the dim interior, but something moved along the far wall. She knocked on the door frame to get their attention.
“What? Who is it?”
“Clíodhna, from the village. I’d like to speak to you about that poison you just dumped in the river.”
“Poison? What are you talking about? It’s just dirty water, nothing worse. I’ve been doing it for seasons. All the tanners do. That’s why we set up downriver from the village.”
She crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “That is appreciated, but it’s damaging the wildlife and the Fae who live downstream from you. You need to find another method of disposal.”
The big man emerged from the shadows. Clíodhna backed up a few steps as he exited the door. He stood a good arms-length taller than she, with broad shoulders and muscled arms. His voice, as Fingin had mentioned, was piercing and deep. He scowled down at them both. “The wildlife and the Fae, is it? Oh, isn’t that a precious thing? You’re nothing but a mere woman and a half-grown child. Begone, the both of you.”
Fingin shrunk back, but Clíodhna stood her ground. She planted her feet and glared up at the big man. “I will not be gone, as you so command. I shall remain until you promise a solution.”
He curled his lip and flexed his upper arm muscles, an obvious attempt at intimidation. She clenched her jaw as the wind whipped her hair. The sky darkened with storm clouds racing across the sun. Since the day had been mild, the tanner glanced up in surprise. Just as he did so, a peal of thunder echoed across the hills.
His stance didn’t seem so intimidating now, nor his manner so threatening. He took a step back, glancing around him. “What’s happening? What are you doing?”
After placing a hand over her heart, Clíodhna asked, “Me? How could I be doing anything? I’m a mere woman and this but a half-grown child. Surely, you aren’t frightened of us?”
Thunder boomed, louder this time, and the first few drops fell on the dry ground.
“What’s wrong, big man? It’s just a thunderstorm. I thought you preferred loud noises?”
His eyes fixed on Clíodhna’s face and for a moment, she thought he would lunge at her. She shoved her instinct to flee down and forced herself to smile in the face of danger. After all, she’d faced Bodach and his entire army. She could stare down one mortal tanner.
Fingin whimpered beside her. When she spared a glance for her grandson, she noticed he looked up in the sky with increasing anxiety.
With a sigh, she allowed the thunderstorm to die. “Take this as a warning. The Fae are under my protection. Damage them at your own peril.”
After taking Fingin’s hand, she walked away with slow dignity. Let him stew over that for a while. A mere woman, indeed. A pity she couldn’t reveal her own status as Faerie Queen to this abhorrent fool.
When they returned to their own home, she noted with relief that Rumann and Mugain had left. The older boys worked in the yard, and she bid Fingin to join them. She needed a break from the lad. While she loved teaching him, patience had never been her greatest virtue, and he didn’t learn quickly. Oh, his heart remained huge and his kindness knew no limits, but to retain knowledge took
