The Sword and the Song

by C. E. Laureano

  It felt like hours, even though it was probably just a portion of one, before Morrigan knocked on her door. As soon as Aine let her in, Morrigan thrust out a small fabric sack. “Here.”

  Aine emptied the bag’s contents onto the table to verify it contained only the blazing star and the cramp bark she had requested.

  “Making sure I’m not trying to poison you?”

  “Making sure a mistake wasn’t made,” Aine said, even though that thought had crossed her mind. “If he’d taken down the wrong jar—”

  “I stood and watched him. I read the labels. He put just those two in the sack that you requested.” She gave her a rueful look. “You are not the only one who knows the value of herbs to women, my lady. I would not give you anything that would harm your child.”

  “Thank you, Morrigan. You don’t know what your help means.”

  “I think I do.” She gave Aine a little bow and a sad smile. “Rest, my lady. As will I, as there is little else for me to do.”

  Aine watched her go, a pang of sympathy for the other woman in her chest. She was trying to tell her something, even though Aine wasn’t completely sure what. But she suspected that some of Morrigan’s secrets remained buried not because they were signs of treachery but because she could not bear to bring them into the light of day.

  When a knock sounded at Aine’s door later that afternoon, she almost expected it to be Morrigan. Instead Riordan stood in the corridor. A frown creased his forehead at her disheveled appearance. “My lady, are you well?”

  “Well enough.” At least the herbs seemed to have worked, and the pains had slowed if not completely subsided. She pushed a lock of tangled hair from her eyes. “Do you need me?”

  “Forgive me, my lady. Eoghan wants you present when he speaks to the Conclave.”

  Aine just nodded her agreement and shut the door, even though lacing up her ever-more-snug-fitting dress and combing her hair was almost more effort than she could contemplate. She settled for lacing the gown loosely and tying back her hair in a single tail. Then she splashed water on her face before descending to the great hall.

  Eoghan focused on her immediately, and the slight pinch of his brow told her that her efforts were not fooling him a bit. He merely gave her a slight bow, however, and gestured to her customary seat, a place of honor between him and Riordan.

  “We’ve more reports from Faolán,” Eoghan said without preamble. “Niall has seized two more keeps.”

  Aine drew in a breath of surprise. “Which ones?”

  “Drumdubh and Cionnlath. Both old, both abandoned. It seems that the people got word of what happened at Bánduran and fled before he arrived.”

  “How does he even know of their existence?” she mused aloud.

  “Remember,” Eoghan said, “we don’t even know how old Niall really is. The rolls of the brotherhood seem to indicate he’s been hopping bodies for well over two centuries, if not longer. He’s lived as a druid. He has access to arcane knowledge that we don’t. And the likelihood of discovering everything he knows, being able to anticipate his movements, is small.” Eoghan’s glance fell on her significantly.

  “You want me to contact Keondric.”

  “You know I wouldn’t consider it were it not our best option.”

  Aine slowly scanned the table to judge the men’s thoughts on the matter. She required only the lightest touch to see they agreed with Eoghan, though Riordan’s thoughts in particular were tinged with regret. He knew what they asked of her.

  “Very well, then. I will try later. I’ve made contact only during late-night or early-morning hours, so I suspect Niall’s hold on him weakens when he’s asleep.” She hesitated. “You do realize that what you ask could have the opposite effect, don’t you? If Niall becomes aware that Keondric is still present, it puts our only protection against him at risk.”

  “Not our only protection,” Dal said. “Do you forget the two thousand warriors who man the city?”

  “Do you forget how easily a woman with a sleeping potion breached Ard Dhaimhin?” Aine countered.

  “Aine is right. We’ve defenses against his warriors, but our main advantage is in Niall’s believing he can’t take the shield rune.” Eoghan directed his attention to Aine. “Would you know if he discovered you speaking to Keondric?”

  “I couldn’t begin to guess.”

  Eoghan pressed his folded hands to his lips as he considered. Perhaps he was speaking to Comdiu. “We can’t afford not to try. I believe it’s worth the risk. But you’re taking on a large risk yourself, my lady. Are you willing?”

  He was giving her a choice in the matter? She swallowed hard and nodded.

  “Good. Now we must consider what to do with the refugees who have entered the city.”

  The report directly affected her, but she couldn’t focus on the words through her jittery limbs and pounding heart. They were counting on her to do something she barely understood and for which she had little chance of success. How on earth could she live up to those expectations?

  The meeting adjourned without her hearing another word. She rose with the men, but Eoghan drew her aside.

  “Lady Aine, is there anything wrong? Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just tired. It’s not unusual, considering.” She waved a vague hand over her belly.

  “Are you sure? Something I should know about Conor?”

  Either Comdiu had told him that something was wrong or he was fishing. His questions were too directed. She forced an unconvincing smile. “No. There’s nothing you should know.”

  Eoghan’s slight smile said he knew how carefully she had phrased her answer, but he just bowed his head. “As you wish, my lady. With your permission, I’ll have supper sent to your chamber so you can rest.”

  “Thank you, Eoghan . . . my lord.” For some reason, she felt compelled to give him a little bow. Every day he slipped into his role as king more easily. It was strange to watch him change from a man avoiding responsibility to one who was more and more comfortable making hard decisions, taking risks.

  Even though it was early, she searched for Conor’s mind as soon as she returned to her chamber. Are you there, my love?

  It took him some time to answer, and she wondered if he might already be asleep. Aye. What is it, Aine?

  Her brow furrowed slightly at the weary sound of his voice in her head. He seemed unhappy to speak with her. What is it, my love? Am I interrupting something?

  No, nothing. The day has been never-ending. I’m ready to sleep. Do you have news?

  Aine pushed away her pang of hurt and filled him in about Niall’s movements.

  That’s interesting. He’s besieging fortresses of the old clan lords.

  Aine frowned at the specificity of the comment. How do you know that?

  You forget that my education was littered with what I thought were useless facts. Not so useless, after all, apparently.

  Tell me.

  The fortresses in questions are all ring forts. The dry-stacked stone ones, as well as those carved out of mountains, were built in Daimhin’s time or later for the principal clan chiefs and later the four kings of Seare. But the older earthen ring forts predate the coming of Daimhin or Balianism to the isle.

  So those sites had some significance to the druids. That’s why they chose to hide the runes there?

  I don’t know much about that. Remember that the druids once followed Comdiu before the coming of Balus. The runes predate the coming of Balus, so there has to be some significance there; I just don’t know what it is.

  Perhaps Murchadh would know. I’ll ask him. Aine wavered on the edge of her question. Conor, is everything okay?

  Everything is fine, Aine.

  He was lying to her now as surely as she had lied to Eoghan about there being nothing wrong. For a heartbeat, she was tempted to push her way into his mind and find out the truth, but at the last minute, she pulled back. Their physical distance made it harder to p
ick up stray thoughts; it took conscious effort to find them. That would be an invasion of his privacy he wouldn’t forgive.

  I just want to help you.

  Some things are beyond your help, Aine. Give me time.

  Stung, Aine pulled back and broke the connection between their minds. He was rarely so severe with her, but after what he’d been through, she couldn’t criticize him too harshly.

  Then several minutes later, his voice reached out to her. Aine.

  Aye, Conor?

  I’m sorry. I love you. Don’t give up on me.

  She let out a relieved breath. I will love you always, no matter what.

  It was true. She might sometimes doubt the timing that had led them to marry and conceive a child only to be repeatedly separated and put in danger, but she knew they were meant to be together, that their love was somehow ordained. She had to trust that, even as he pulled further away from her each day, even as the image of another woman lingered in the back of her mind.

  A brother arrived with her supper, just a bowl of soup and a large piece of bread with honey. She lifted the first spoonful to her lips and realized that it was filled with chunks of meat. Hadn’t that been one of things they talked about at the meeting, the scarcity of game and their dwindling supplies? She knew for certain there were no more active hives; this had to be the last of the honey.

  She lowered the spoon back to the bowl. This was Eoghan’s doing, whether it be from his own initiative or Conor’s charge that he take care of her while he was gone. The pregnant women below, although they continued to receive full rations while the men got half, were not being served food like this. She couldn’t reject the gift, but it didn’t come without guilt.

  Yet what kind of mother would she be if she didn’t do whatever it took to ensure the health of her baby?

  She finished the food and set the tray aside, then climbed under the blankets with the last volume of Shanna’s journals. She could tell herself that she was killing time until she could reach Keondric, while Niall’s consciousness was sleeping, but in truth she was scared—frightened of making a mistake, of tipping off the druid, of what he might do if he found out the truth.

  Comdiu, give me strength for this, she prayed, burying her face in her hands. This is more than I can handle. This is more than I am capable of.

  It didn’t take long for the answering truth to fill her: it might be too much for her to handle, but nothing was too great to accomplish with Comdiu’s help.

  Before her fear could convince her to change her mind, she reached out and began searching for a mind that felt like Keondric’s. She didn’t dare call out to him lest she draw too much attention. And then, as unlikely as finding a sewing needle in a straw bale, she caught the thread of a thought that felt familiar.

  Keondric, can you hear me? Keondric! Fight to the surface!

  My lady? Is that you?

  Aye, it’s me. Listen to me very carefully. Do you know where you are?

  No, I don’t understand.

  Keondric, your body was seized by the druid, but somehow your spirit did not flee. You must gain control. If you do it now, I know you can do it more frequently.

  Very impressive, my lady. It’s too bad you don’t understand your gift more thoroughly.

  Chills traced her skin, and her stomach dropped to her feet. Niall. She knew that voice, more by its arrogance and oiliness than by any resemblance to the voices he’d controlled while she’d known him. What had he done with Keondric? Had he heard what she’d said to him?

  Oh, aye, my lady. I heard every word. Just as I hear every word you’re thinking now.

  Impossible. You’re surely guessing.

  Not impossible, clearly. You are a clever girl to have figured it out, though. And to try to use it against me, though obviously that will fail.

  Why obviously?

  Because I knew that Keondric was attempting to contact you all along. I wanted to speak to you.

  Then why the charade? You knew where I was; you could have called to me.

  Ah, but I did. It was only the familiarity of Keondric’s voice that broke through the noise of all the other thoughts. That must be most inconvenient for you, my dear.

  She bristled at the use of the endearment, at his attempt to establish rapport. He laughed, picking up on her feelings.

  I suppose it would be a complete waste of time to convince you to come join me, wouldn’t it?

  You supposed correctly. I would never—

  No need for theatrics, my lady. A no suffices. Of course, it would be helpful for you to fully understand the nature of your child’s gifts.

  Aine went cold. He couldn’t have flattened her more thoroughly if he’d tried. How do you—?

  Know about your child? You give me too little credit. Now, how I felt your child’s gift, that is more impressive—just not as impressive as his gift. Do you really believe that your powers just spontaneously grew? You owe much to that tiny little spark of a life in you. It would be a shame to see it snuffed out.

  Now the chill changed to a flush of fury. You dare threaten my child? You underestimate me if you think that I would ever allow you—

  Calm yourself, little one. It was not a threat. Merely an observation of what happens to expecting women when they’re under great deals of stress. You know that firsthand, don’t you?

  Aine gasped and slammed the door shut on her mind, closing him out before she could think through the action. He knew about her problems. He claimed to recognize her child’s gifts, implied that her baby possessed abilities even greater than his own. Was it all manipulation, or was it truly meant as a warning?

  Dizziness washed over her when she realized the depth of her mistake. This had nothing to do with her or Keondric. It was her baby he’d wanted to assess all along.

  And she had just given him everything he needed to know.

  In two weeks, Eoghan had managed to undo all the safety that Ard Dhaimhin had enjoyed.

  He paced the Ceannaire’s office, his hands clasped behind his head, trying to think of a way around his failures, but there was none—at least none that wasn’t worse than the very thing he was trying to fix. Aine had tried to warn him of the risks of contacting Keondric, and he’d thought they were more intelligent, safe enough to take the risk. And then exactly what she’d warned them of had happened.

  “Aine herself said that he already knew of the existence of Keondric’s soul.” Riordan watched him from a chair, as calm as he’d been since Aine had notified them of what had happened.

  “But now he knows about her child and its gifts. That’s a concern.” Eoghan stopped pacing when the door to the chamber opened, and he waved in the newcomer. “Iomhar, come, sit.”

  The young man looked surprised, but he obeyed and perched on the edge of the chair as if he were expecting a reprimand. “Is there a problem, sir?”

  “No. Well, aye, but not with you. I’m reassigning you.”

  “Is there something wrong with my work, sir? My céad is operating as efficiently as ever.”

  “We’ve become aware of a threat to Lady Aine, and I’m assigning you to her as her guard. During daylight hours, you are not to leave her side, unless she’s in her chamber, at which point you will stand watch outside. I have already assigned a night guard to her. Do you understand?”

  “Aye, sir. It’s an honor, sir.”

  “Good. Now get some sleep. You’re expected at Carraigmór at dawn tomorrow.”

  Iomhar stood and bowed before exiting the room. Eoghan wiped a hand over his face. At least that was taken care of. He’d feel slightly better with Iomhar by her side.

  “A bit of overkill, don’t you think?”

  Eoghan stopped and looked at Riordan. “She’s your daughter by marriage. I’d think you would be as concerned as I am.”

  “I am concerned. But Iomhar is needed as a céad leader in the city. Taking him now puts his men at risk.”

  “And Aine is one of the greatest advantages we have. T
he men will fight under whomever we put in command. But she cannot come to any harm.”

  Riordan arched an eyebrow. “Are you sure that’s what this is about?”

  For a moment, shame and anger at Riordan’s opinion of him welled up inside, but he stuffed the feelings back down where they belonged. “It doesn’t matter what you think my motivations are. What is important is that I’m right.”

  Riordan stood and gave him an abbreviated bow. “Aye, sir, understood. Conor will be back in a fortnight, though. You might want to give some thought to how you’re going to explain why his wife is Niall’s newest target.”

  Eoghan watched the older man go, both baffled by and worried about his reaction. Did Riordan disagree with his actions? Or was he merely worried that Eoghan’s concern for Aine was more than strictly tactical? Either way, his actions would be the same. She was an asset, his best friend’s wife, and someone important to him. He would make sure she was protected.

  Perhaps it was defiance, or perhaps it was just the knowledge that there were preparations to be made before the city was hit with another wave of refugees, but Aine refused to hide in her chamber as Eoghan and Riordan seemed to believe she should. She rose early, washed and dressed, and opened the door of her chamber—only to nearly collide into a wall of solid muscle.

  “My lady.” The man standing outside her chamber gave her a short bow. “I’m Brother Iomhar.”

  “I know who you are, Iomhar.” She recognized the young swordsman immediately. He was reputed to be one of Ard Dhaimhin’s best fighters and commanded a céad of his own.

  “Master Eoghan assigned me to you today.”

  Of course he had. She should have expected as much. “That’s not necessary.”

  “He thought you’d say that.” Iomhar’s expression cracked into a good-natured smile. “But I suspect I’ll be facing a flogging should I let you out of my sight.”