In a far corner of the farm I sit down under a graceful willow. For a while I watch the patterns in the water, the ripples and eddies and odd still patches. Ducks paddle past; insects hover; fish dart by, wary of diving birds. That thought makes me shiver. I think of Brocc in that place, unreachable, and wonder if Eirne expects him to battle those creatures day by day. What he did was extraordinary. Does Eirne understand what a toll that took on him? Does she realise a man can’t expend his strength like that over and over without dwindling away to a shadow? Does she love him enough to spare him that? Or will she protect her folk whatever the cost?
A polite cough. I nearly leap out of my skin. ‘Shit! Don’t creep up on people like that!’
‘You dropped your guard. You should stay alert.’
‘Thanks, that’s just what I needed to hear.’
A silence. Then, ‘I’ll go,’ he says, and turns away.
‘Dau! Stay, please. I could do with the company.’
He comes to sit beside me, knees bent, back straight. Demonstrating, perhaps, the ideal posture for staying alert. We watch the stream run by. Small clouds pass over. My mind goes back to Brocc, and suddenly what’s happened hits me like a punch to the gut. He’s gone. My brother is not coming back. He chose to say goodbye, to leave me and our parents and Galen and his bright future behind. He chose that world, and I may never hear his voice again.
‘Cry if you want.’ Dau’s voice is quiet.
I’m already crying. There’s no way I can hold the tears back. I’m sobbing like a child, remembering the old, good times: when Brocc and I stood up for each other; when we sang and played and made verses; when we practised fighting. I put my hands over my face. Curse it! What am I, a baby?
When the worst is over, Dau puts a clean handkerchief in my hand. How is it that he always seems to have one on his person? I mop my face and blow my nose. I will Dau not to say anything. He can’t understand. He hates his brothers.
‘It must have been hard,’ he says. ‘I know how close the two of you were.’
‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ I mumble. It’s bad enough knowing I’ll have to tell the family.
‘How about a bet?’ asks Dau, still looking out over the water.
‘What?’
‘Archu will give us the news tonight, won’t he? Whether we’re staying or not? So let’s have a bet on that. Do we both stay, do we both leave, or one of each?’
The abrupt change of subject is as welcome as a cold drink after a tough bout with staves. ‘I’m a little short of funds,’ I say.
‘The stake doesn’t matter. One copper? I wager he’ll choose you to stay and me to go.’
I stare at him. ‘Why in the name of the gods would you think that?’
‘You take risks, you show leadership, you hold fast to what you believe in. You’re brave.’
‘The same actions might be described as foolish, crazy and pig-headed. Indeed, have been so described. Perhaps not the pig-headed part.’
‘Even so. What do you think he’ll decide?’
‘The opposite of yours. You stay and I get sent home.’
‘You’re just saying that to make me feel better.’
‘Bollocks, Dau. If I have any good quality it’s honesty. You stuck to your role under extreme conditions. You showed good judgement, cleverness and excellent physical skills. And . . . and you trusted us, me and Brocc, even though the situation must have been baffling for you. You weren’t to know that we . . . that the way we were brought up meant such things were easier for us to understand. In your turn, you proved yourself worthy of trust.’
A long silence this time. ‘Thank you,’ Dau says. ‘I wish you were the one making the assessment.’
‘But then I’d be sending myself home, which would be odd behaviour, even for me.’
He smiles. ‘One copper each way, then. Is it a deal?’
‘It’s a deal. Maybe we should walk back.’
But we don’t walk back, not straight away. We sit on the bank a while longer, resting our backs against the willow. The day warms, and at a certain point I drift into a half-sleep. When I wake we get up and walk back quietly, easy in each other’s company.
Archu runs through the usual questions, the ones we get after every bout. The hardest one tonight is identifying the opponent’s weaknesses and errors. Under the circumstances it feels wrong to do this. But it’s part of the Swan Island training, so I set them out. ‘Dau was slow to trust. He resented the role he’d been given, and sometimes he let that show.’
‘And?’
‘That’s it. I’ve told you what he did well. He did most of it very well.’
‘He performed better than you? Better than your brother?’
‘Differently. You can’t assess one against the other; we had our own roles to play. The mission required all of us.’
‘Mm-hm. Dau, let’s hear what Liobhan got wrong. You’ve given us a surprisingly positive account of her strengths.’
‘She has a tendency to speak her mind; that can lead to trouble. She likes to take risks. Sometimes those risks are . . . a little too risky. To some, they might seem foolish. If I were training her for her next mission, I would ask her to work on self-control.’
‘What part of this mission gave you the most satisfaction?’ This surprising question comes from Illann.
Dau catches my eye and we both grin. Neither of us is going to mention that escapade at the wall. ‘To be honest,’ he says, ‘I spent most of our stay at Breifne feeling anything but satisfaction. I was pleased when Liobhan got Brocc out of that place. And I was pleased when the harp ended up in the right hands.’
‘And you, Liobhan?’
‘Working as a team. We got better at that. We learned as we went along. Only . . . without Brocc we’re not so much of a team. Sorry.’ I clear my throat, wishing my voice was steadier. ‘I wish he could be here to give you his answers. I wish I could tell you how strong he was. How strong he is. I wish I could . . . I wish I could stop thinking it’s my fault. What happened to him. He knew how much I wanted the mission to be a success.’
There’s a silence, then Archu asks, ‘Whose decision was it that he stay in that place? Yours? The faery queen’s? Or Brocc’s? He’s his own man, Liobhan. He was from the first.’
He’s right, of course. Maybe in time the guilt will lessen and I’ll be able to accept what’s happened. I wish I knew how long Brocc must stay in the Otherworld. A season, a year, a hundred years, forever? I’ve heard too many tales.
‘You’ll be wanting to go home to Winterfalls,’ says Archu.
My heart sinks even lower.
‘To give your family the news in person, I mean. That won’t be an easy task. We’ll send someone with you.’
I’m torn between laughing and crying. My insides are a mess of mixed-up feelings.
‘Tell us, please.’ Dau is the one who steps in to end the torture. ‘Are Liobhan and I to continue our training on Swan Island?’
Archu and Illann exchange long looks. They’re as grave as lawmen pronouncing a judgement. My fists are clenched so tight it hurts. I can’t look at Dau.
‘What do you think, Illann?’ asks Archu. ‘Shall we keep them?’
‘I think we might.’
Oh gods! Do they actually mean it’s a yes?
‘What I can’t understand,’ says Archu, and now he’s smiling, ‘is why either of you could possibly have thought we’d say no to you after this. Get through the rest of the training without any major blunders and the two of you will be at the top of our list. Your performance on this mission has only strengthened your chances.’
I do something that not so long ago would have been unthinkable: I jump up, fling my arms around Dau and hold on tight as I laugh and cry at the same time. Even more unthinkable is that he hugs me back. When I can speak coherently again, I
let him go and turn to Archu. He’s looking mightily amused. Illann is at the end of the table pouring more mead for everyone.
‘But – taking foolish risks . . . going our own way . . . disobeying instructions . . . criticising the chief druid in a meeting of officials . . .’
‘Breaking the rules,’ adds Dau. ‘Drawing attention to myself. Failing to overhear anything of the least use. And a few others I won’t go into. Doesn’t all that outweigh the remarkable success of the mission?’
‘Here.’ Illann brings us the mead. ‘What are you trying to do, talk us out of accepting you?’
‘Of course not.’ I still can’t believe this. ‘But . . . I’m shocked. Shouldn’t a Swan Island warrior obey the leader’s orders and stick to the mission plan?’
Archu clears his throat and glances at Illann again. Clearly we’re providing good entertainment. ‘Missions vary, Liobhan. We need a unified team, that’s certain. We need our people to trust each other without reservations. But Swan Island values each warrior’s particular skills. We need people who can think on their feet. People who can become leaders at a click of the fingers, if that’s what the situation demands. We like quick wits and good imaginations. We value risk-takers, provided the risk is justified. Even if it’s not justified until you’ve taken it. I’d say the two of you are cut out for the job, different as you are. Just make sure you’re ready for some hard training once we get back. Doing well on a mission doesn’t earn you the right to take it easy thereafter. Besides, there are some other candidates in your group who will be snapping at your heels.’
‘Thank you. I . . . I don’t have anything else to say.’
‘That must be a first,’ says Dau. ‘I also thank you.’ A pause. ‘You mentioned Liobhan making a trip home to give her family the news. Might I be given leave to escort her?’
Archu gives him a long, hard look. Another man might wilt under such scrutiny. Dau stares back unflinching. What on earth could have possessed him to suggest this?
‘I’ll give it some thought,’ Archu says. ‘That would leave the two of you even in terms of the training, I suppose. We’ll see.’
I think of Brocc. He should be here drinking mead with us, laughing, perhaps singing. Being told how brilliantly he played his part in the mission. If he hadn’t broken away from the plan, we would have failed. He was the bravest of all. I think of telling my parents and how much easier that would be if I had a friend with me.
‘I can go on my own,’ I tell them. ‘Why should anyone else miss days and days of training?’
‘To make sure you come back,’ says Dau.
44
Brocc
We are here. We are home. Home has a different meaning now. I might make a song about that. But not yet. Not today.
Eirne’s folk are jubilant. They celebrate the coronation of a good king; they anticipate better times, times of true understanding. And they rejoice at my return, for when Eirne is happy, so are they. While they have not mentioned the Crow Folk, I know they see in me a warrior who will banish the scourge that hangs over them.
They want music and dancing and feasting. But Eirne sees what it has cost me to say farewell, and she tells them, ‘Later. Later our bard will play for you, and we will fill the forest with glad sounds.’
For now, I lie quiet in my little house as birds sing beyond the shutters. My harp stands silent in the corner, awaiting my touch. It would not sound for Farannán. That was a great mystery. Wonders have attended this day.
Before I walk out that door, before I step fully into my new life, before I set my hands to the strings of my instrument or lift my voice in song, whether it be to entertain my friends or to wage war on their foes, I must make peace with those I have left behind. Will I ever see them again? Will I go back some day, and will I be so changed that they no longer know me?
‘Mother,’ I whisper. ‘Father. I love you, and I’m sorry. Galen, look after them. Stand by them.’ Perhaps it is a prayer. Perhaps in some mysterious way they will hear me and understand.
Then there is Liobhan. I wanted more time to say goodbye. I wanted to allay her fears. I wanted to see her smile. I wanted to tell her how much I will miss her voice, which always had the power to touch my heart and lift my spirits. Her music made me stronger. She made me stronger.
There were so many things I wanted to say, a lifetime of them.
Perhaps I will sing now, after all. Not with the harp. Not with full voice, for I want no audience. But softly, as if my sister were so near that I could look across and meet her forthright gaze; reach out and take her hand. If I close my eyes, perhaps I will hear her voice, singing along with mine.
‘I cannot come with you wherever you go,
And I cannot stay by you in joy and in woe,
But I’ll be beside you, though gone from your sight,
I’ll love you and guard you till we meet in the light.’
Acknowledgements
The Harp of Kings could not have made it into the hands of readers without the valuable assistance and support of many people. My gratitude goes first to my agent, Russell Galen, whose continuing faith in this project helped get me through the times of doubt. Thanks to Claire Craig and her team at Pan Macmillan Australia, notably my wonderful editor Brianne Collins and copyeditor Julia Stiles. Heartfelt thanks also to the US team: Anne Sowards, Miranda Hill and staff at Penguin Random House, for an excellent job. You were all great to work with and I truly value your support.
The gorgeous cover image is by Mélanie Delon, whose Liobhan is just as I imagined her.
To my loyal readers: thank you for waiting so patiently for this book, and for not saying ‘Get on with it’ too often! I hope you love these new characters and their story.
About Juliet Marillier
Juliet Marillier was born and educated in Dunedin, New Zealand, a town with strong Scottish roots. She is a graduate of the University of Otago and has had a varied career, which included teaching and performing music.
Juliet now lives in a historic cottage in Perth, Western Australia, where she writes full-time. She is a member of the druid order OBOD. When not writing, she looks after a small crew of rescue dogs.
Juliet’s historical fantasy novels and short stories are published internationally and have won numerous awards.
www.julietmarillier.com
Also by Juliet Marillier
THE SEVENWATERS NOVELS
Daughter of the Forest
Son of the Shadows
Child of the Prophecy
Heir to Sevenwaters
Seer of Sevenwaters
Flame of Sevenwaters
THE LIGHT ISLES NOVELS
Wolfskin
Foxmask
THE BRIDEI CHRONICLES
The Dark Mirror
Blade of Fortriu
The Well of Shades
Heart’s Blood
Prickle Moon
BLACKTHORN & GRIM
Dreamer’s Pool
Tower of Thorns
Den of Wolves
For young adults:
Wildwood Dancing
Cybele’s Secret
THE SHADOWFELL NOVELS
Shadowfell
Raven Flight
The Caller
First published 2019 in Pan by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd
1 Market Street, Sydney, New South Wales, Australia, 2000
Copyright © Juliet Marillier 2019
The moral right of the author to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted.
All rights reserved. This publication (or any part of it) may not be reproduced or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed or otherwise made available by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical) or by any means (photocopyin
g, recording, scanning or otherwise) without prior written permission from the publisher.
Cataloguing-in-Publication entry is available
from the National Library of Australia
http://catalogue.nla.gov.au
EPUB format: 9781760787899
Typeset by Post Pre-press Group
This is a work of fiction. Characters, institutions and organisations
mentioned in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination
or, if real, used fictitiously without any intent to describe actual conduct.
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