I hate these ridiculous traditions.
I rubbed my eyes with my arm, not letting go of my double-handed grip on my looted sword as we circled each other. Damn it, I wasn’t even carrying my own weapon.
That reminded me of Raineach. My heart chilled as I looked into her killer’s pale eyes.
A child crouched by the steps, her eyes fixed on me. Of course: she still couldn’t do as she was told and stay out of the way. My small comrade who’d been due to hang.
‘And she will,’ smiled Calman Ruadh, reading my thoughts. ‘After I’m done with you.’
‘After I put in all that effort?’ I said. ‘Not bloody likely.’
‘Don’t be scared, I’m not going to kill you. I still want the fun of gelding you.’
‘What, like my friend Sorcha gelded your man in the guardhouse there?’
He can’t have known. Calman Ruadh frowned, his gaze searching out Sorcha. She gave a yell to attract his attention, and grinned, and gave him two fingers.
‘He was my cousin, Murlainn,’ he snarled.
‘Well, he wouldn’t be adding to your family tree,’ I told him. ‘Even if he wasn’t dead.’
‘You kiss my sword,’ he said, ‘I use a sharp knife.’
‘You kiss my backside,’ I retorted, ‘I won’t let you suffer.’
He came at me. He was fast and flying. I ducked and rolled and was on my feet again, lashing out and spinning back out of his reach. I heard his blade cut the air just in time to bend out of reach of his strike, and when his backswing went at my hamstrings I jumped high. I could have had his head off then if I’d been fast enough, but I wasn’t. The sword in my grip was heavier than my own, and it felt clumsy in my grip. I swung at him and he somersaulted backwards, landed like an elegant cat and eyed me.
I breathed hard. He smiled.
Hell, he was fast. He flew at me again, light and lithe. He knew I was having trouble with the sword. It was all I could do to parry his rain of strikes, and I didn’t have a moment to riposte. He beat me back almost casually, and as I leaped to save my feet being severed at the ankles, I tumbled clumsily back and came to rest on one knee, unbalanced. Lightly he swung his sword across my ribs, smiling, then backed off.
I thought I was dead. When I felt the blood swell and trickle down my belly, I knew it was a flesh wound, a calculated insult. I was no good. He’d cut me to bits before he killed me.
I got to my feet, but panic was creeping in now, and with it pain. I could feel the slash across my chest, my own blood mingling with dried mud and sweat. Now I could feel the hole in my thigh, and even the irritating sting of the wound on my forehead. My head swam. There had been no need for me to die, no need for me to claim the man. Idiot that I was.
The watchers were wordless: the only sounds were rasping breath, and the moaning whimpers of the wounded. And then, the clean sibilant sigh of a blade sliding out of its scabbard.
I blinked blood out of my eyes and stared over Calman Ruadh’s shoulder towards the sound. Idiot or not, I would rather die than face the shame of an intervention, and I was about to yell in fury at whoever had drawn his sword.
It was Conal, of course, but it wasn’t his own sword he’d drawn. That was in his left hand. In his right was the blade he’d just taken from the second scabbard strapped on his back. Raising it, he smiled.
~ He’s yours. So kill him.
I dropped the strange sword. And I sprinted empty-handed at Calman Ruadh.
I had enough time to see shock dawn in his eyes, and confusion, before his confidence reasserted itself. Then, as he raised his own sword to kill me, I saw the flash of a thrown blade spinning in the first murky dawn.
I reached for it as it passed me, snatched it from the air, flung myself skywards and came at him from above. He was looking up at me in disbelief as I drove Raineach’s beautiful blade down into his throat, let go of the hilt, and twisted to make my own cat-landing.
Calman Ruadh fell awkwardly to his knees, clutched at the hilt beneath his jaw, then pitched forward and died.
39
THIRTY-NINE
There was no time for feeling pleased with myself. There was only a moment to plunge my head and shoulders into a water trough, scrub off the worst of the mud and blood, then strip the shirt off a corpse. My hands shook, so Conal took the shirt from my hands, helped me put it on, then pulled me into a brief fierce embrace.
‘Where’s Branndair?’ I asked.
‘With Catriona. Don’t worry. I thought it was the best place for him. In case…’
He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to. Branndair was a Sithe wolf, and he was my wolf. He’d know to protect her, and he’d know, when he was no longer able to protect her, that it was time to kill her as he’d kill a deer.
‘Thanks,’ I said.
He laughed. ‘You really don’t need to mention it.’ He hugged me again. ‘I owe you.’
I felt terrible. Everything hurt, most of all my head, and I was furious, because this was not the moment. No-one had seen the children or the non-fighters, and if they hadn’t emerged when the battle-sounds died down, it meant they couldn’t.
‘Great hall,’ said Righil sourly. He was kneeling by Raonall’s corpse. Its open eyes were locked on the remains of Luthais, and Righil carefully drew the eyelids shut before he stood up.
‘Yes,’ said Conal.
Half of Calman Ruadh’s fighters had withdrawn there. That’s why it was over so fast. I couldn’t help thinking—and I knew Conal was thinking it too—that they must have had a reason. Worse, they probably had a strategy.
So it was with naked blades in our hands that we approached the great hall of our own dun. It was quiet, even as Conal stepped over the threshold. I was at his shoulder so I saw it all at exactly the same time he did.
Kate sat in the chair that had been Griogair’s for so many centuries. Even Conal hadn’t chosen to sit in it yet. Her hands were steepled beneath her chin and she scrutinised each of Conal’s fighters as they filed in behind him. Lilith stood at her side, the usual smirk fixed to her beautiful face. In three ranks on each side of Kate stood the remnants of Calman Ruadh’s army, and in front of them were lined the Lammyr, thirty or more, and Skinshanks at their head.
Damn. I was afraid of that.
In front of the Lammyr, kneeling, chained together, were the children of Conal’s dun and the remainder of his clann.
Kate sighed, frowned slightly, then looked up.
‘Let’s talk,’ she said sweetly.
Conal walked forward, but when some of his fighters tried to follow he thrust his hand back in a vicious gesture to keep them back. I wasn’t about to be put off so easily. Catching him up, I walked at his side.
‘Now,’ she said, clapping her hands lightly as he came to a halt in front of her. ‘I don’t want you dead, you fool. I still have hopes of you. Take a new exile and be glad of it.’
He stared at her, wordless. I could feel the hate coming off him.
‘If you don’t, I’ll simply kill all of these here and now.’ Her sweeping gesture encompassed all our chained clann. ‘My loyal Lammyr will enjoy the sport, and you won’t be fast enough to stop it. By the way,’ she tossed her hair back, ‘I’m glad Skinshanks’s lieutenant didn’t succeed in having you burned. I was disappointed at the time, but really, truly, I’m glad.’
‘And at least it had fun,’ Skinshanks said in its rattle-bone voice, giving my brother a dry grin. ‘All those dreary sermons, all that moralising. All that miserabilist lecturing. It enjoyed itself no end. And burnings to boot!’
Kate laughed. ‘It certainly had fun with our humble dun captain. Now, do hurry up and decide, Cù Chaorach.’ Her fingers fluttered in the direction of the captives.
‘If I take exile, what guarantees do you give me?’
I couldn’t believe it. I knew I couldn’t bear it.
‘Guarantees?’ asked Kate in surprise.
‘Guarantees of this dun’s preservation.’ Conal spoke through gri
tted teeth. ‘Guarantees of the safety of my clann. Guarantees that they’ll keep their autonomy.’
She looked at Lilith. ‘Do you know anything about guarantees, Lilith?’
‘None. There are none.’
I thought I’d heard venom in my mother’s voice before. I realised I hadn’t heard the half of it. ‘You deserve no guarantees,’ she hissed, ‘you filthy damned traitor. You can ask for none. Take your exile and be glad you’re alive. You won’t fight us. You have too much to lose.’ Lilith pointed a long fingernail at the captives. ‘So do they. How dare you threaten your queen’s life?’
I lost it. ‘Not hers, bitch!’
I went for her and I think I might have killed her. I think it might even have been what she wanted, but Conal must have known what I was about to do. I didn’t get within a sword’s length of my mother before his arms were locked around me, wrestling me back.
‘Have I taught you nothing?’ he growled. ‘Don’t bring that curse on yourself. If anyone is to kill her it’ll be me.’
‘Such arrogance!’ cried Kate angrily. ‘Such presumption!’ She rose to her feet.
‘Lilith has no hold on Seth!’ yelled Conal. ‘He’s no part of her!’
Kate glanced at Lilith, held out her hand, and Lilith stepped forward. She walked down one step, two steps towards me. I stared, confused.
Lilith unwound her elaborately braided hair. The ribbons fell away, and the strings of pearls, and the silky tumble of hair fell around her face, and she smiled.
Conal backed away. I just stared, feeling nothing at all. Lilith’s hair was streaked and striped and glossed with silver. Her face was clear and unlined, alive with youth, but my mother was months from death.
‘I have a message for your mother, Cù Chaorach.’
‘Lilith,’ he said, and put a hand on my rigid arm. ‘Don’t do this. Gods. Don’t do this.’
‘Your mother wants to die, Cù Chaorach, doesn’t she?’
‘Lilith.’
‘But she doesn’t have the devotion to die.’ Lilith half-turned to smile back at Kate; the queen walked down the steps to stand behind her, never taking her eyes off Lilith. ‘Bound or not, Leonora does not have the need to die. The courage. She does not have the love.’
‘It’s love keeping her here, Lilith!’
‘Not for Griogair. For someone who doesn’t exist yet! That’s not love, it’s self-importance. It’s not good enough, Cù Chaorach; not good enough. I have the courage. I have the love. I’m going to him.’
‘Lilith!’
‘How much headstart will she give me, Conal?’
Lilith stepped back into Kate’s arms, and Kate’s fingers ran once through my mother’s hair, then drew it aside. She kissed Lilith’s neck, and pressed her cheek against hers, and then she kissed her greying hair.
‘No,’ said Conal.
‘Tell her, Cù Chaorach.’
Kate’s arm slid round Lilith, holding her in a close embrace. Smiling, Lilith closed her eyes, but not for long. She opened them again to look straight into mine, then tilted up her chin. The blade in Kate’s hand flashed across her proudly raised throat.
Blood spat from it in a broad spray. There was no avoiding it. My mother’s lifeblood was in my eyes, and my hair; it was in my mouth and some of it had run into my throat. I’d swallowed, convulsively, before I could even think about dodging it or wiping it off or spitting it out. Lilith’s eyes were locked on me as they went dead, but she was still smiling, and she didn’t fall. Kate cradled her in one blood-soaked arm as she looked up at me and Conal.
‘You’re mine,’ she murmured. ‘It’ll be a long time coming, but your lives belong to me. Both of you.’ Sweeping Lilith’s body into her arms, she passed my mother as if she was a featherweight into the arms of Skinshanks. It shivered with pleasure at the touch of death. ‘It will be worth the wait, Cù Chaorach, Murlainn. My patience is limitless.’
‘You ask too much, Kate,’ he hissed. ‘For nothing!’
She came down the steps again to stand close to him, her voice soft and deadly. ‘I don’t object to a war here and now, Cù Chaorach.We shall fight, and I do not care if every fighter in the place dies. I will sacrifice every single one: yours and mine. I loved Lilith, you know that. You’ve seen now that I have no compunctions. You have far too many. Now take your exile, and don’t ask me again for promises. You’ll get none.’ Her lovely lip curled in a snarl. ‘You. Have. No. Choice.’
‘No. But he does have me.’
At last, at last, a spark of true terror in Kate’s eyes. It was gone in an instant, but I know I saw it. I saw that first, and then I saw the raven gliding in circles above Kate, I saw its black-marble eye and heard its cackling scornful laugh. It landed on Leonora’s outstretched arm as she stopped between her son and me.
Well, well. It was a learning curve: all these detested enemies I was suddenly finding I liked. I’d certainly never been happier to see this witch. Though where she’d sprung from, the gods alone knew, because Conal looked as shocked as Kate did, and so did the fighters who thronged the door and the passageway beyond. Aonghas actually rubbed his eyes and made his mouth an O. Comedian.
‘So,’ said Kate, recovering her composure. ‘We’re going for death, and the destruction of this dun. Am I right?’
Leonora sighed, flicked specks of cobweb and earth from her coat, and tickled the raven’s throat. ‘You’ve never been right in your life.’
I rolled my eyes. I hoped this wasn’t going to come down to a brief catty exchange of views, and a bloodbath to follow.
‘I’ve just explained to your sainted son,’ said Kate, ‘that I have the advantage of complete ruthlessness. I’ll sacrifice this dun and everyone in it.’
‘No, you won’t. Not if my son goes into exile, and I go with him.’
I actually couldn’t breathe. I thought someone had kicked me in the gut. From the look of him, Conal felt exactly the same.
Leonora’s sweetness was very like Kate’s.
‘Can we talk?’
* * *
Only four people ever knew what happened in those negotiations between Kate and Leonora. They spoke quietly, reasonably, like old friends discussing their childhood, and no-one else, I’m certain, overheard. That was an advantage for both sides. At the time it was. Later I wondered.
‘I know what you’re thinking, Leonora,’ Kate told her.
‘I should hope so. You wouldn’t be much of a Sithe queen if you didn’t.’
Kate gave a low laugh. ‘That’s disingenuous of you, Leonora, to say the very least. Now, I’ve been where you have been, and seen who you have seen, and I know all that you know.’
‘Do you indeed?’
‘She told me everything. She told me all she told you, Leonora.’
‘That surprises me.’ Leonora raised her left hand to the raven, and it rubbed its beak affectionately against her skin.
‘It shouldn’t. I had so much help from Skinshanks. It’s very persuasive.’
‘So the prophet’s dead now?’ Leonora sounded regretful, but not exactly devastated.
‘Of course she is. And you won’t find it.’
‘The Stone?’
A chill crept down my spine, as if a Lammyr had walked on my grave.
‘The Stone,’ agreed Kate. ‘The Bloodstone.’
‘Oh, but I will. I’ll have the heir of Griogair Dubh at my side, and that’s the key, it seems. I can’t imagine he’ll ever be at yours.’
Conal grinned.
‘So you find it.’ Kate shrugged. ‘Then I’ll take it from you.’
‘You can try,’ I remarked.
Kate smiled at me. This time the chill in my spine made me shiver, visibly.
‘The prophet had a few things to say about you, too, my little bastard. Little cursed one. The one who would drink the blood of his own mother. One day I’ll tell you what else she said, since she was obviously so reliable. Splinter-heart, winter-heart, lover-killer.’
There were
a lot of dark night-things walking on my grave, now.
Kate tossed her head, dismissing me and my ill-starred future. ‘Did you listen carefully to the old prophet, Leonora? She gave no word to say the Bloodstone will save the Veil. Nothing to indicate it will preserve it. It will decide the Veil’s fate, that’s all. Griogair’s heir will find it, and the fate of the Veil will be determined. Not by the finder, you understand. By whoever holds it at the right time. So be my guest.’ Kate wagged a playful finger. ‘Take your son and find the Stone, and don’t come back till you do.’
‘The dun,’ gritted Conal. ‘If this is up to me, I want guarantees.’
‘Oh, she won’t destroy this dun,’ said Leonora coolly. ‘You see, it’s the only thing on earth that matters to me more than the Veil. I don’t want civil war, but I can be ruthless too. Kate will not destroy Griogair’s dun or his people. If she dares to try in our absence, I’ll come back here and destroy her. And she knows it. Don’t you, Kate, dear?’
Kate’s eyes glittered, her face frozen with fear and hate. ‘So, Cù Chaorach.The survival of your dun and your clann depends entirely on your exile. For as long as it takes to bring me what I want.’
‘And the autonomy and security of my dun is guaranteed?’
‘Till your mother dies,’ said Kate.
‘Till I die,’ agreed Leonora, smiling. ‘Watch me live.’
‘Must I?’
‘Oh, yes. For a very long time.’
‘Though you saw what Lilith did?’ Kate’s laugh was rippling and lovely, but brittle. ‘You were here, weren’t you, Leonora? You saw, you heard. You know what she has done to you.’
Leonora gave a shrug, though from where I stood, there seemed to be a weight of lead on her shoulders.
‘Yes. It makes no difference. I live on, and so does the dun.’
‘Only if your son and all his blood relatives leave for the otherworld.’
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