by Jo Walton
“Your mother might want it, but it will be up to Conary just as much,” Conal said.
“I know,” Emer said. “I don’t want to. He’s in love with Elenn.”
“Marriage is nothing to do with love,” Conal said.
“I know that, too,” Emer said. “But anyway, when I asked your grandfather, he said ‘Often enough you do.’ That’s just so horrible. Even if I don’t, even if I manage to get out of it, often enough other ones of me didn’t and have to marry him. Ugh. I’d much rather not know that.”
Inis was at the top gates, speaking to the guard, and they were almost on him. Conal was intrigued enough to stop. “Ugh? You don’t like Darag?”
“He’s horrible. I hate him,” Emer said in a whisper. Then she went on, almost running to catch up with Inis. Conal followed more slowly, trying to smooth out the frown that wanted to come down between his eyes.
2
(ELENN)
Elenn smiled at Leary, but it wasn’t any fun—he was too besotted, there was no challenge there at all. He would have done anything for her, but it didn’t matter. Besides, he might be King Conary’s nephew but he wasn’t anybody really. Nobody thought he might be the next king of anywhere. Dear Ferdia was almost sure to be the next king of Lagin. As for Oriel, it was bound to be Darag or Conal. Her mother had told her before she left home that it would almost certainly be Darag. That didn’t mean it wasn’t worth being nice to Conal in case, Maga had added. As if Elenn would ever be mean to people just because they weren’t important. That wasn’t the same as not worth bothering with. She smiled at Leary again and looked up at him through her lashes. It was amazing how easy it was.
Maga had told her a lot of things about how to act with men, but she had never had a chance to try them out until she came to Ardmachan. Back at Cruachan, everyone knew her, and what was more, everyone had seen Maga. Next to Maga, Elenn thought, she barely counted as prettier than Emer. Away from Maga, it was a completely different story. Amagien ap Ross had written a poem saying she was one of the three most beautiful women in the island of Tir Isarnagiri. That made her feel quite shaken and all excited deep inside, but she knew how to act. Alone with Emer at night she had laughed and recited the poem over, but in front of everyone she sat listening to it being sung as if it were nothing unusual. But it was, it was very unusual for such a poem to be written about a seventeen-year-old girl who was away from home for the first time in her life and enjoying every minute of it.
It was strange that Amagien was Conal’s father. It was hard to imagine two people more different. Amagien was so emotional and Conal was so driven. Conal was so handsome, too, like ap Fathag, even though ap Fathag was so old. Amagien wasn’t at all handsome. But he had good manners, unlike his son. She could have liked Conal, except that he didn’t like her. He tried not to show it, but he didn’t. He was too clever. She thought maybe sometimes he could see what she was doing and laughing at it, or even disapproving of it. She’d have to try harder with him, she could see that. He thought too much.
The one she really liked was Ferdia. He was the one she was going to ask her mother if she could marry. Then Maga would fix it. Emer could have Darag if she wanted; Maga thought that was a good idea anyway. Maga was good at that sort of thing. Elenn liked Darag, but he scared her sometimes. Darag was wild. He might be the strongest and the best fighter, but Ferdia was taller and gentler. She had the feeling he would have been kind to her even if she hadn’t been beautiful. He was kind to Emer. Darag and Conal had hardly noticed that Emer existed. In some ways it was really nice that she was the important one, that nobody cared about Emer here. But it was wrong even so. Elenn was so used to being compared to her sister. And she had to share a room with her, she had to hear Emer’s views on everything. In front of everyone, Emer was quiet, the way Maga had told them to be. But get her alone and she wanted to share what she thought. So Elenn couldn’t forget about her. And if she was going to have to care about her, then everyone else ought to.
She looked to see where Emer had got to. She had been walking with ap Fathag and Conal, which was all right, but now ap Fathag had gone on ahead and she seemed to be talking intently to Conal. That wasn’t all right. It especially wasn’t when Conal paused to hear what Emer was saying. Elenn just knew they were talking about her. She couldn’t catch up to them either, because she had to walk with Leary and pretend to be paying attention to what he was saying. What was he saying anyway? She listened for a moment.
“Nobody takes up arms until they are eighteen, which won’t be until next spring,” he was saying. Leary had been talking about Darag and Ferdia being wrong all the way from the grove. Well, Elenn thought it was wrong, too, but she wasn’t going to bore anyone with it. She closed her ears again, which was a useful skill sometimes. Sometimes what a queen has to do is just sit and smile and look beautiful. Maga had told her that, though Maga wasn’t a queen of course, but a king. A king needs different skills. But Elenn wasn’t going to be a king, and she was glad. Being a king would be boring and you’d have to listen to people going on and on all the time. A queen had a lot of work to do with organizing food and supplies for everyone and being gracious, but no fighting.
Not that Maga did any fighting, she hadn’t for years. But she might have to if there was an invasion. No fighting, no being forced to do more than pretend to listen to boring people, and no talking to the gods. Talking to the gods was scary. Let her brother Mingor be the king; she’d be a queen and make a good alliance for Connat. If Ferdia were king of Lagin, he’d make a very good alliance indeed.
They had reached the top of the mound. It was strange how familiar with Ardmachan she had become in the month she’d been here. At first it had seemed huge and frightening. There was the wall at the bottom, and another wall at the top, and then three big halls inside, as well as the ordinary buildings. Everything was inside here, except things that couldn’t be on top of a hill, like the well and the smithy.
Elenn smiled at the guards on the gate as she went through. She always did. It wasn’t any trouble, and it made them like her, and things were always easier if people liked her. She knew one of these guards. He was Casmal, who taught them spear-throwing. He looked worried, and she wondered what ap Fathag had said to him. She gave him a special smile, then hurried after Leary and the others.
Nid gave her a strange look as she caught up. Elenn didn’t understand Nid very well. She was a girl, but she wasn’t at all beautiful, not even as pretty as Emer. That wasn’t strange, but Elenn couldn’t understand why Nid didn’t care about it. She wore long brown straight shifts and saved embroidered overdresses only for special days. She kept her hair tied on top of her head almost all the time. All she wanted to do was be a charioteer. Finca, Conal’s mother, who taught them chariot-fighting, said that Nid would probably be very good at it. She was good with ponies and she wasn’t going to be heavy, which was important for a charioteer. Finca said Emer would as well, and Elenn, too, if she would only try harder. Lots of the best charioteers were women. Darag’s mother Dechtir had been Conary’s charioteer before she was killed. There were songs about her.
But Elenn didn’t want to be a charioteer at all. She just wanted to know how to fight well enough to defend herself, that was all. She didn’t need to be a champion. She was going to be a queen. Her king would have a whole hall of champions to defend her honor. Like Maga. If anyone insulted her, she could just raise a finger and everyone in the hall would be begging to be chosen as her champion and she’d choose the best one and they’d always win. That was better than fighting for yourself. Maga had explained that to her years ago. Nice as it was to be away from her for a while, Maga made a lot of sense about that sort of thing.
Ap Fathag charged straight past the Speckled Hall, which was a huge storehouse for supplies, with a special room where weapons were left when people were in the dun and didn’t need them. He marched right into the Red Hall, which was the king’s. Emer and Conal followed close behind, and Leary, Nid, and
Elenn a little behind them. Elenn was starting to worry about what ap Fathag would do. She knew King Conary wouldn’t do anything awful to him whatever mad thing he did, because ap Fathag was an oracle-priest—and Conary’s father, even if he had never been married to his mother. But she wasn’t so sure Conary wouldn’t be really cross with the rest of them for following him.
The king was sitting in one of the end alcoves playing fidchell with Amagien the Poet. There was a place above where the roof could be lifted off to give light on warm clear days, so they and the board were clearly illuminated. Both men sighed when they saw ap Fathag and his pupils approaching. King Conary didn’t look as handsome as usual when his face had such an irritated expression. Elenn found herself remembering stories about his terrible rages. It was said he’d killed his sister Dechtir in a fit of temper.
“I can guess what you want,” he said, crossly. Elenn kept her face still, the way her mother had taught her.
Ap Fathag laughed loudly, the way he did sometimes. It sounded more like a raven than a man; there was no mirth in that sound. Elenn saw Nid shiver, and she would have shivered herself if she were younger.
“What did Darag tell you?” Inis asked.
“He told me you told him it was the day fated for him and Ferdia and Laig to take up arms,” Conary said.
“I told you your foolish nephew was lying,” Amagien put in. Conary glared at him.
“I told all my pupils that it would be a good day for a mighty warrior to take up arms,” ap Fathag said. “I did not tell Darag to come to you.”
“Not lying,” snapped Conary at Amagien. “Enterprising lad.”
Conal hissed air between his teeth, but ap Fathag clapped him hard on the shoulder and he said nothing. They all just stood there. Conary stared at ap Fathag as if daring him to speak.
“Have you given Darag and Laig and Ferdia arms?” ap Fathag asked after a long pause.
“Surely nobody would doubt the right of the king to arm his nephew and fosterlings in his own hall,” Amagien said.
“Quite right, too, I have every right to do it if I want to,” Conary blustered.
“You have every right,” ap Fathag said, very mildly. “But you must arm also these other nephews and fosterlings who stand beside me now.”
“Sir, I am three months older than Darag,” Conal put in.
“Do you think we could have forgotten your age?” Amagien asked. Elenn had never seen him snapping like this before.
“Of course I know his age,” Conary said. “It is well past noon, Inis. It is too late to arm them today. They will never find a beast to kill before sundown.”
“We will take that risk, sir,” Conal said.
“Very willingly,” Leary agreed.
Conary looked at them all as if they were something that had fallen from the thatch into his stew. “All of you?” he asked.
“I will,” Nid said.
It was only then that Elenn realized exactly what was likely to happen. She wanted to be armed, yes, but not like this, not in a scramble and with no time to hunt properly. She wanted it to be an occasion, the whole court there out on a hunt and leaving the kill to her. She had heard all the stories of how her brother had taken up arms two years before. She didn’t want it to happen this way.
“Not us,” she said, thinking quickly. “Sir, my mother would not like it if we were armed in Oriel.” That was nothing but the truth; Maga definitely wanted to arm all her children herself, as she had done with Mingor. “Besides, I am not ready.”
“But I would be armed,” Emer said. Elenn couldn’t stop herself from gasping. It was as if her left arm had suddenly developed a will of its own and started reaching for things she had no desire to grasp.
“Nonsense, girl,” Amagien said. “Your pretty sister is right, it would cause trouble with Connat. Besides, how can the younger girl be armed and the elder not?”
“If Elenn feels unready for arms, that is her choice,” Emer said. “She has no wish to be a great warrior.” Elenn winced, for all that it was true.
“Stout heart,” ap Fathag said in something that sounded horrifyingly like an approving tone.
“My mother would wish to arm us herself. Elenn is right. But she would yield before the news of a fortunate day,” Emer said boldly.
Elenn leaned forward. “Emer, think, you can’t,” she whispered.
“Oh, yes I can,” Emer said, keeping her eyes straight forward.
“Maga will not like it, but will she go to war for it?” Amagien asked.
“She will go to war with us for one cause or another within three years,” ap Fathag said, rocking to and fro slightly in the stupid way he did when someone asked him a question. It was so unfair, as his main means of talking was by asking other people questions, but if you asked him one back, his response was to say something often unintelligible and always uncheckable and then go off into a daze. He was much madder than the oracle-priests at Cruachan. And his predictions were always so obvious, just like this one.
Conary leaned forward, looking at Emer. “Do you want to be a great warrior, then?” he asked.
“If possible,” she replied.
“Has anyone seen if she can even fight?” Amagien asked. “Ah, I thought not. And she is two years away from age.”
“She can fight,” Conal said. Elenn frowned at him, but he took no notice; he wasn’t even glancing at her. “She’s young to be armed, but so are we all, sir. And time and daylight of a fortunate day are wasting as we stand here.”
King Conary had shut his eyes. “She has not strength to fight hand to hand,” he said faintly. “Anyone can see that.”
“Strength as much as my daughter Dechtir had,” ap Fathag said.
Conary’s eyes snapped open and he sat bolt upright, but when he spoke, his voice still sounded weary. “Do either of you youths need a charioteer?”
Leary and Conal both stared at Nid, who shrugged. “I have driven you both and would willingly drive either of you,” she said.
“You have far more often driven me,” Leary began.
“Then let her drive you now,” Conal said, “If Emer will consent to drive me?”
“It would be an honor,” Emer murmured, looking down and sounding her usual self again.
“Let her be armed as a charioteer then,” Conary said, as if he were tired to death of the whole business. Elenn felt a great deal of sympathy for him. “Come, Amagien. Where is Finca?”
Finca came up immediately. Elenn suspected she had been listening in the next alcove. It was a large hall, and the alcoves were hidden from each other in the same way they were at Cruachan. It meant proper privacy for eating, but it also meant it was very easy to hide in them and spy on people when the hall wasn’t full. If she built her own hall, Elenn thought she would prefer to have a great table to eat on the way the poets said the Vincans did. Except that it would make it difficult for people who were at blood-feud with each other and so could not eat together. She wondered how the Vincans managed about that.
“You called for me, my brother?” Finca asked.
“Rejoice, for today your child becomes one of the people,” Conary said with an ironic nod of the head to Conal. “If you can find Elba and Ringabur, and Ugain and his wife, they may wish to hear the same news. Regrettably, Maga and Allel cannot be here. Also, the feast I bade you prepare for Darag’s return should perhaps be expanded a little.”
“Yes, my brother,” Finca said, as if his words had been quite ordinary. She gave hardly a glance to Conal and no glance at all at the rest of them.
“Oh, and sister, take the elder princess of Connat to help you,” Conary said. “She does not need to be armed today.”
“No,” Finca said, looking at Elenn a little curiously. Elenn kept her head up and looked back. “Very well, you can help me prepare the feast. Come along, child.”
It was only then, hearing that familiar form of address, that Elenn realized what she had done. She would still be a child, when the others, ev
en Emer, would be adults in everyone’s eyes. It was not quite too late to change her mind, but entirely too late to do it and maintain dignity. She lifted her chin high and walked off after Finca without a backward glance.
3
(EMER)
King Conary gathered up champions and parents and guards so that there seemed to be a crowd of them before they even left the Red Hall.
Emer was starting to feel almost sorry that she had spoken up. Elenn’s face had been like thunder as she went off with Conal’s mother. No doubt she would never let Emer forget it. Worse, she would tell Maga. Maga hadn’t wanted to send them to Oriel in the first place. Having fosterlings at Cruachan was one thing. Sending her own children off into danger was another.
Not that there was any danger. Emer couldn’t see how such a thing could even cross her mother’s mind. Maga and Allel had fought over it until Emer’s head hurt. Eventually, Allel suggested that Maga’s reluctance wasn’t fear for her children but an intimation that she herself would break the sacred bonds of guesting and harm a fosterling. Emer thought he was entitled to say so. After all, the idea would never have crossed anyone else’s mind. All guests were sacred, even in the middle of a war, and fosterlings were the most sacred guests of all. Maga had clawed Allel’s face so hard that he had marks for days. After that, there had been no more words Emer could hear through the wall, only moans and cries. That fight had ended up in bed, as her parents’ fights so often did. Emer had wondered at them the next morning, seeing her father with a scratched face and her mother purring. She had been overjoyed when Allel had told them that they would at last be allowed to spend a year at Ardmachan. She had been waiting through all of Maga’s excuses since she was nine years old and the royal children of Oriel had gone home without them.
