The House of Gaian

by Anne Bishop

  Ashk nodded. “I’ll leave after the meeting.” I want to go home. The words echoed in her head, in her heart.

  “You’ll be heading back to Bretonwood?”

  She nodded again.

  “In that case, if you don’t mind the company, Lyrra and I will travel with you for a while.”

  “Your company is always welcome, Bard.”

  After giving her shoulder a comforting squeeze, he left her.

  She stared out the window for a long time, not really seeing anything. Finally she stretched out on the bed and did something she hadn’t allowed herself to do. She cried.

  Breanna sat on the bed, feeling awkward as she watched Fiona pack. “You’re welcome to stay. You know that.”

  Fiona joined her on the bed and rested a hand on Breanna’s cheek. “I know, darling Breanna. We all know that. But the Hunter knows where Jennyfer and Mihail found safe harbor, so his wife and daughter will travel with her as far as the western bay and take a ship from there. And the rest of us…We have to go back.”

  “You don’t know what you’ll find there. You don’t know if there’s anything left.”

  “Then we’ll start again. Build again. And one day our ships will sail down the Una River and out to sea again. But whatever we find there, it’s still home. We need to reclaim what was ours.”

  “I understand.”

  Fiona’s brows drew together in a worried frown. “You’re welcome to come with us. You don’t have to stay here alone.”

  Breanna forced herself to smile. “I won’t be alone. Clay, Edgar, and Glynis will still be here.” Neither of them mentioned Falco, who had made a fumbling excuse about needing to do something before riding away an hour ago.

  Fiona went back to her packing. “You’ll write to me on a regular basis, just to let me know how things are going.”

  “Yes, I will.” Breanna stood up and hugged her cousin. “I’m glad you were here.”

  When she went outside a little while later, she found Falco sitting on the bench beside the kitchen door. He sprang up as soon as he saw her.

  “Breanna? Could we talk?”

  Why not? she thought, suddenly weary. She sank down on the bench. He sat on the other end—the polite distance required between strangers. Were there some standard phrases gentry women used when a lover was trying to say he was leaving? She’d have to ask Elinore so she’d be prepared next time. If her heart was ever willing to risk a next time.

  “Breanna, maybe it’s too soon, all things considered, but…” He reached down, picked up a basket, and set it between them. “I got this for you.”

  She lifted the cloth folded over the top of the basket—and stared at the sleeping black puppy. She wanted to run her fingers over that soft fur, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to touch him.

  “Squire Thurston’s bitch had a litter,” Falco said. “He wasn’t going to keep them. And since he’s pretty sure the wild oats the bitch got into came from here, I thought…”

  “Wild oats?” Breanna asked, bewildered. “From here? What kind of…Oh.” She looked at the puppy again, and her throat tightened. But she still hesitated to pet him.

  “I thought he’d be company for you, once winter sets in. And I thought you’d like him better than a salmon.”

  “Better than—” Remembering the condition of the salmon he’d brought her, she grabbed the puppy out of the basket and cradled him against her chest. “Falco! You didn’t fly over there and snatch him, did you?”

  “Fly? Snatch?” Falco’s eyes widened. “No. I rode over with the basket. Just got back a little while ago.”

  “Oh.” It wasn’t so hard to cuddle the puppy, who was content to be petted back to sleep. “I thought…after everything that’s happened, I thought you’d grown tired of this world and were going back to Tir Alainn.” Where it’s peaceful…and safe.

  After a long silence, he asked quietly, “Do you want to live in Tir Alainn?”

  She didn’t have to think about it. “No.”

  “Then I’m staying. I love you, Breanna. And I think…I think Willowsbrook needs us.”

  She heard it again. The same hesitation and uncertainty she’d heard when he’d finally shown himself to her in human form. He was looking for some assurance that he had a place in the world.

  Smiling, she held out her hand. “Yes, Falco. Willowsbrook needs us. Both of us.”

  The following morning Aiden set two fresh stacks of paper at one end of the dining room table at Liam’s house, made sure the quills were sharpened and the ink bottles filled. He and Lyrra would make notes of this barons’ council, then combine them into one document for Liam’s review and approval.

  He looked at Donovan, who sat in a cushioned chair to his left. “Are you sure you should be out of bed?”

  “If I didn’t get out of that cursed bed, I’d either have to strangle Gwenny or have an affair with the cook. The woman has taken a fiendish delight is serving me chicken soup for two out of three meals.”

  “The cook?”

  “No,” Donovan growled. “My wife.”

  Aiden coughed to disguise his laughter.

  Looking sulky, Donovan turned to Liam. “You’ve had news from the west?”

  “I’ll tell you when we’re all gathered,” Liam replied, fingering the folded sheet of paper.

  To distract Donovan—and satisfy his own curiosity—Aiden asked, “You’ve had news as well, haven’t you, Ashk?” She looked more exhausted now than she had during the days of the battle, so he was relieved to see a little color in her face again.

  “From Padrick,” Ashk said, smiling. “He and the children are well. And Ari gave birth to a strong, healthy boy. Padrick says Neall is hiding his disappointment in not having a daughter by wearing a silly grin, walking into walls, and generally making so much of a nuisance of himself that the Clan’s Lady of the Hearth has taken to locking him out of the cottage for a couple of hours every day so that Ari and the babe can get some rest. Of course, since he sounds too sulky to be complaining just on Neall’s behalf, I suspect Uncle Padrick has also been locked out of the cottage on a regular basis.”

  “That’s wonderful news,” Lyrra said, having paused in the doorway to listen. As she walked to her place at the table, she pointed at Aiden. “You should write a song.”

  “You should write a poem,” he countered.

  “We’ll collaborate,” she said primly, taking her seat.

  Aiden leaned close to her and whispered, “We did that quite well last evening.”

  Watching her color rise, he busied himself with examining his quills, fully aware of the interested, and speculative, glances the barons were giving Lyrra as they walked into the room.

  Ashk took her seat at the table, followed by Selena.

  The table had been pushed to one side of the room so that chairs for the surviving barons who had fought at Willowsbrook could be placed in rows facing the table. Fae Lords and Sons of the House of Gaian stood against the wall, and two chairs were set to one side for Breanna and Elinore. The barons had argued that their council should be private while they decided the fate of the eastern counties ruled by the barons who had followed the Inquisitors, but Liam had insisted that the Fae and the witches should be present if they so wished since they would be affected by any decisions made here.

  When everyone was assembled, Liam opened the piece of paper. “I have a message from Padrick, Baron of Breton. You are all free to examine the contents.”

  One of the barons waved the offer away. “Just tell us what it says, Liam.”

  Liam cleared his throat. “Recognizing that the fate of Sylvalan would have to be decided swiftly once the battle was won and that it would be better not to delay such discussion by waiting for those who would require days of travel to reach us here, Baron Padrick states that I have been granted a proxy vote—for all the western barons.”

  Stunned silence.

  Aiden made hurried notes. If his understanding was clear on the way the c
ouncil worked, Liam’s vote counted for more than the rest of the men combined.

  When no one made any comment, Liam folded the paper and set it aside. “Shall we begin?”

  The door to the dining room opened. Aiden glanced up and dropped his quill, spattering ink all over the top sheet of paper. Pushing the paper aside, he retrieved the quill and dipped it in the ink pot.

  “Oh, my,” Lyrra whispered.

  Her hair was pinned up in a becoming fashion instead of scraped back in a tight knot, and her gown was as finely made as any gentry lady’s, but Aiden had no trouble recognizing Skelly’s sweet granny. And the way Breanna and Selena leaped to their feet when she entered the room made him very nervous.

  “Grandmother,” Selena said.

  The Crone smiled at Selena and Breanna. “Granddaughters.”

  “Take my seat, Grandmother,” Breanna said, touching the back of her chair.

  The Crone sat down and folded her hands in her lap. Her eyes touched every man in the room before they fixed on Liam. “The Crones have discussed what has happened in Sylvalan. Since I am the one who lives closest to this place, I have to come to tell you what has been decided.”

  “Begging your pardon, Lady,” one of the barons said. “But it is up to the barons to decide what happens to the land owned by—”

  “You do not own the land.” Her voice cut like a knife. “You have never owned the land. The Great Mother is held by her Sons and Daughters. It has always been so. It will always be so. We granted your people stewardship over portions of the land, giving you a place to live in your own way, just as we set aside portions of the land for the Fae and the Small Folk and the wild things of the world. Stewardship, Baron. Stewardship. You do not own the Mother.”

  Aiden wrote frantically, part of him fearful of what she was going to say and another part hoping she wouldn’t object if he shaped those words into a song.

  “This is what we have decided. The barons in the west, in the midlands, and in parts of the north, south, and east will retain stewardship of the lands they now hold. But the land that was held by the barons who followed the Inquisitors is forfeit. All of it.”

  A swell of protest rose from the barons, cut off abruptly when Liam raised his hand.

  “Wise of you, Grandson who is also a baron.”

  Aiden wrote frantically, aware that Lyrra was scribbling just as fast.

  “The land is forfeit. However, we recognize that your people have already suffered much, and turning them off the land they have worked would be cruel and unjust. Therefore, they may stay if they wish—but under the rule of the House of Gaian.

  “Sons and Daughters who are willing to leave their homes in the Mother’s Hills will take up stewardship of those lands. The boundaries of the Old Places will be walked again. The land will be reclaimed as a home for the wild things and the Small Folk—and the Fae. Other Sons and Daughters who have the strength and skill will do what they can to reopen the shining roads and free the Fae who were trapped there. This is what we have decided.”

  “And if we don’t agree?” one of the barons asked.

  The Crone raised one hand, palm up. “Earth. Air. Water. Fire. These are what we hold in our hands. Can you live without them?”

  Aiden stopped writing, suddenly aware that his pen scratching on the paper was the only sound in the room.

  “It is justice,” Liam finally said, bowing his head.

  The Crone nodded. “As we will, so mote it be.” As she walked out of the room, she paused and looked at Breanna. “We will talk, Granddaughter.”

  “As you will,” Breanna replied.

  Ashk rose from the table. “Breanna? Are you nervous about talking to her?”

  Breanna smiled weakly. “A little.”

  “She isn’t really your grandmother.”

  “She and Nuala were cousins. So she is the elder most closely related to me now.”

  Liam stood up. “It would seem this meeting is concluded.” He turned toward Breanna. “We can talk to her in the morning room.”

  “She wants to talk to me, Liam, not us.”

  “Well, she gets to talk to us.” Pushing past Ashk and Selena, he strode to the doorway and stood beside it.

  Breanna muttered, “Featherhead,” and walked out of the room with Liam right behind her.

  “Selena?” Donovan asked. “If I may ask a question? What makes the Crones entitled to make such decisions about the world?”

  Selena hesitated, then raised one hand, palm up. “The Crones who rule the Mother’s Hills are the ones whose power comes from all four branches in equal measure.”

  “Could she do what she implied? Could any of those women take away the world?”

  Selena lowered her hand. “That is not a question you should ask of the House of Gaian. But there is a poem that gives the answer.”

  “I know it.”

  After Selena walked out of the room, the rest of the people trickled out as well until only Donovan, Aiden, and Lyrra were in the room.

  Lyrra glanced at Aiden and gathered up her papers, quills, and ink pot. “I’d better make a fairer copy while I remember what all these scribbles mean.”

  When he and Donovan were alone, Aiden asked, “What is the answer?”

  “‘If roused, their wrath can shake the world / And men will not see the light of day again,’” Donovan replied.

  “Mother’s mercy.”

  “That’s what we all stake our lives on, Bard. The Mother’s mercy. And the mercy of Her Sons and Daughters.” Donovan struggled to stand up.

  “Do you want help getting back to your room?”

  Donovan gave Aiden a wan smile. “I wouldn’t refuse it. Right now, I wouldn’t turn down a bowl of chicken soup.”

  The Crone gave Liam a cool stare. He stared back, not sure why he was so primed to fight, except that Breanna had already been through enough.

  “I asked to talk to Breanna,” the Crone said.

  “Then talk. But I’m staying.”

  “Oh, sit down, Liam,” Breanna said.

  He sat on the sofa, close enough to her that their shoulders brushed.

  “Now, Granddaughter, since you have no family here—”

  “She has family here,” Liam snapped. “She doesn’t have to live alone in the Old Place. She can live here with us.”

  “I’m not living alone in the Old Place,” Breanna snapped back. “I’m living with Falco and a puppy.”

  Liam frowned. “A puppy? When did you get a puppy?”

  “Yesterday. Falco brought him for me.” Breanna squirmed. “Now that I’ve figured out what he meant about the salmon, I think the puppy was intended as a courting gift.”

  His frown deepened. “Courting gift? Giving a woman a pet is more a betrothal gift than a courting gift.”

  “Whatever. The point is, I’m not living alone. And the only reason you’re being a featherheaded jackass about Falco is because you want to court Selena and don’t know how to do it.”

  “I never said I wanted to court Selena!”

  “But you do want to, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I want to, but I never said it!” He crossed his arms and muttered, “Stone-headed female.”

  Breanna crossed her arms in exactly the same way and muttered, “Featherheaded jackass.”

  Finally remembering they had an audience, he looked at the Crone sitting in a chair across from them. Her lips were pressed together and she was shaking with the effort not to laugh.

  Breanna hunched further into the sofa. “You wanted to talk to me, Grandmother?”

  The Crone laughed, shook her head, and rose. “There’s no need. I’ve already learned what I needed to know. But remember, Breanna, I am your elder now. If you need my help—for anything—you must come to me…or ask me to come to you.” She walked over to Liam and took his face between her hands. “And you, Grandson. A witch enjoys being courted the same way as any other woman.”

  Liam looked sulky. “I refuse to spend my evenings
writing bad poetry.”

  The Crone sighed. “That’s too bad. It would give her something to laugh over when she’s my age.”

  They sat side by side for a long time after the Crone walked out of the room.

  “Truce?” Liam finally said. “I won’t nag you about Falco, and you won’t nag me about Selena.”

  “Truce.” Breanna smiled. “Besides, there are plenty of other things I can nag you about. Rhyann made up a list for me.”

  Chapter 54

  new moon

  Liam hovered in the doorway, watching Selena pack her saddlebags. “You don’t have to go.”

  “This is your mother’s room, and she’s coming back to live here with you and Brooke.”

  “There are plenty of other rooms. You don’t have to go.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  It wasn’t fair. From the moment she’d arrived at Willowsbrook, they’d been caught up in the fight to survive. Now, when they could finally spend a little time getting to know each other better, she was leaving. “Why?”

  He found the color suddenly flooding her cheeks intriguing.

  “Because my father would disapprove,” she said, stuffing garments into the saddlebags with more speed than care.

  So her father had gentry sensibilities when it came to his daughter. That he understood.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Not far. Across the brook, actually.” The color in her cheeks deepened. “Breanna said they have plenty of room, and since her handfast to Falco was witnessed by the Bard, the Muse, and her family’s elder, it would be proper to stay with them. And—And she mentioned that it wouldn’t be that far for a…friend…to ride to come visit.”

  To hide his own delight, he muttered, “She’s been spending too much time with Rhyann.”

  “Oh, Rhyann’s going to live there, too.” Selena looked up, her eyes filled with amusement.

  “Mother’s tits.”

  She laughed. “Rhyann does tend to produce that reaction.” Picking up her saddlebags, she walked to the door, stopping when he didn’t move aside. “Thank you for your hospitality, Baron Liam.”