Deception's Princess (Princesses of Myth) (33 page)

I talked Áed out of two slaves
, I thought as I threw Kelan’s wolf-collared cloak over my shoulders.
I talked Master Íobar’s ambitions into dust, even if it all ended so badly. I talked countless kings and warriors into thinking they could claim me when I was always far beyond their grasp. I may not have the Fair Folk’s magic, but I have spells of my own, and I’ll use them to save my friend
.

With that purpose in my heart, I left my father’s house and chose my road.

Devnet was a bard and so a man with a memory trained to hold on to the precise details of innumerable poems, songs, and stories. He was like a child of the Fair Folk, gifted with an enchanted net that could capture every aspect of a moment
in its meshes and preserve it forever. Whenever he came back from his wanderings, he spun tales of his days on the road that described every route he’d ever taken. If you paid attention and recalled his words, you could travel to any of the royal strongholds in Èriu and not miss your way.

I hoped my memory was good enough to take me on the right road now. I encouraged myself by thinking,
If Devnet’s descriptions of his last trip to Fir Domnann lands are accurate, if nothing’s altered the landmarks he described, I’ll know soon enough if I’m on the road I need to intercept Morann. But if that isn’t so, I can still do this. Nothing changes the fact that the Fir Domnann live west of us and that there aren’t many roads fit for a king’s chariot between here and there
.

I walked at a brisk pace, striving to put as much distance between myself and home as I could. I didn’t know how closely Lord Morann was following his messenger, but the man told Father he had three days to prepare me to leave. That probably meant Morann was lagging
more
than three days’ journey behind, and it was a trip that wouldn’t bring him all the way to the gates of Cruachan. Morann might be arrogant, but he wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t bring his hostage into the heart of a ringfort where his twelve warriors could be overwhelmed by all of Father’s men.

Father’s men … now
there
was a problem I shared with Morann.

How long did I have before my departure was discovered? How long before Father sent his hunters to pick up my trail and bring me home?

One day
, I thought.
That’s all I’ve got. They’ll be too busy packing my things to care about where I am until it’s time for dinner. If I’m lucky, it will be too dark by then for Father to send out search parties, but they’ll be after me by dawn, and then—

I walked faster.

A drenching rain overtook me that night. I found refuge under a massive oak tree, but the downpour was so strong and unrelenting that not even the forest canopy could shield me from it completely. My cloak provided some warmth, which was a good thing, since kindling a fire was impossible.

The rain lasted through the night and didn’t let up until well into the afternoon of the next day. I forced myself to travel on, though all I wanted to do was find a farmstead and beg shelter. My feet hurt, my throat was raw, and I learned that wet cheese tastes bad but soggy bread tastes worse. I tried to make the best of things by imagining Morann and his party suffering from the weather as much as I was.

I wonder how much farther I have to go before I meet them
, I thought as my shoes squished with rainwater.
I hope I hear them before I see them or they see me. I don’t want to charge into their midst head-on. Better to step off the path, take to the woodland, and watch them from there for a while, just to make sure Morann’s kept his word about bringing Devnet home
.

The rain ended and a chill night came on. When I went hunting for fuel to start a fire, I discovered that every stick in the forest was soaked through. I’d have to depend on my cloak again. I huddled like a caterpillar in its cocoon and buried my face in the fur collar. Even if the wolf’s pelt did smell like wet dog now, it still brought me bittersweet memories of my lost friend, Kelan. I told myself that I would never part with it, not even if it turned to tatters.

And I’ll never let this leave me either
, I thought, reaching into my belt pouch and drawing out my special keepsake, the rusting shard of Kelan’s shattered sword. My fingers closed around that precious talisman, and in spite of the cold I fell asleep.

There was no rain the next day, but a drizzle came and went, fraying my temper as thin as a strand of spiderweb and cheating me out of a fire yet again.
If this doesn’t change, Morann will find me by the sound of sneezing long before I find him
, I thought with grim humor as I closed my eyes.

I was roused in the middle of the night by the voices and a glimpse of fire through the trees.
Morann
, I thought, and cursed him for everything he’d done
and
for owning the luck or skill to have a fire when I had none. Common sense told me to stay put until daybreak, but I was too eager to find out if Devnet was with him.

I’ll just creep near enough to see
, I told myself. Leaving my bag and staff behind so that I could move more nimbly, I edged closer to the beckoning fire.

As I approached, disappointment overtook me. The fire I’d spied was only one small blaze, nothing fit to warm a king, his hostage, and a dozen fighting men. There were only three voices. I contemplated whether it would be safe for me to step into the ring of firelight and ask these unknown travelers if I could warm myself in their company. I listened to their talk more attentively, hoping to find something in their conversation to tell me they were decent, honorable people.

What I heard made me catch my breath.

“What do you mean you saw a face up in that tree? Are you crazy?”

I knew that voice. It belonged to one of Father’s men.

“I saw what I saw,” came the stubborn reply.

The hairs on the back of my neck rose. There on the far side of the campfire sat Caílte, the warrior whose hand had ended Kelan’s life. I saw his hated face clearly.

My lost friend’s killer had come hunting me.

“S
TOP TALKING LIKE
a woman, Caílte,” the first man said irritably. I recognized him as Daire, well known in Cruachan for having a bull’s thick neck and often the beast’s bad temper. “This stupid chatter about someone among the branches, spying on us? It was an owl, or a shadow, or nothing!”

“Not someone,” Caílte replied. “Just a face.”

The third warrior in their party made a disgusted sound. “He’s like this whenever he has to leave Cruachan overnight.” His face was in shadow, but I knew Ruadan by the way he drawled his words, as if he were forever half asleep. Such slow speech was misleading: he was one of the swiftest runners I’d ever seen. “I found that out the hard way when we last marched to Tara and I slept beside him. I mean I
didn’t
sleep, for all his gabble about seeing things. Bad enough that he loses his wits when the sun goes down, but does he have to try and take ours too?”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here or I’ll find a way to
remind you,” Caílte growled, fingering the hilt of his knife. “I didn’t mean to talk about the face, but he took me by surprise, grinning down from the tree that way.”

“Too bad you can’t ask your invisible friend to show us the trail that leads to our princess,” Daire joked.

Ruadan sighed. “Remember Kelan? If he was still around, he could’ve found her in a heartbeat, even after a rainstorm like we had. That lad was a skilled tracker.”

“That lad was a fool,” Caílte muttered.

I thought I saw Daire frown, but it might’ve been a trick of the firelight. “Look, Caílte, you were within your rights to challenge him for … well, for whatever insult he gave you. It’s been years and I don’t recall it anymore. But the boy’s dead. Why belittle him?”

“Daire’s right,” Ruadan chimed in. “Your quarrel was settled long ago, by his death. Let his good name alone.”

“Tell him to stop haunting me!” Caílte shouted. He sprang to his feet, scooped up a rock, and flung it hard against the tree trunk shielding me.

“Calm down, calm down.” Daire rose to pat Caílte on the back. “It’s been a tiring day.”

“Do you think we’ll be the ones to find her?” Ruadan wondered aloud.

Daire shrugged. “Lord Eochu sent out six search parties. No one knows which way she went when she left home, but if she ran off for the reason
I
think, we’re not likely to be the lucky ones.”

“We’d better be,” Caílte grumbled. His companions ignored him.

“What makes you say so, Daire?” Ruadan asked.

“This is the same road Lord Morann’s got to take to reach Cruachan. What do you bet that our princess is smart enough to know that? And I say
he’s
the reason she’s fleeing home, so why would she run down the path that’ll take her right into his arms?”

“What makes you think he’s behind her going?”

“
Think
for a change! It’s not too hard.” Daire began counting off each point he made on his thick fingers. “Lady Maeve’s happy in her home. There’s never been serious talk of fostering her out
anywhere
. Lord Morann’s messenger shows up. Next thing you know, Lord Eochu announces he’s handing over his favorite girl, no warning, hardly any time before he takes her away to meet Lord Morann partway. But what happens right off?” He jabbed his thumb at the overhanging branches. “Lady Maeve’s gone! You tell
me
there’s some other reason for it.”

“I guess you’re right,” Ruadan said. “We won’t be the ones to find her. How much longer should we try before we go back?”

“And tell Lord Eochu what?” Caílte’s voice rose. “That we couldn’t find his favorite daughter? Do you know the fate he keeps for men who fail him where she’s concerned?”

“Caílte, I pray that Lady Maeve is found safe, but we’re only one of the search parties. At best, another one will bring her home, but if the worst happens—may the gods avert it—we can’t be held responsible if—”

“We can! We will! Open your eyes and see the truth, Ruadan. Lord Eochu will destroy all of us if any harm touches his daughter.” Wood on the fire cracked and sent a tower of sparks shooting into the sky, painting Caílte’s contorted face the color of blood.
“This is why Kelan died!”

I couldn’t breathe. I was earth. I was stone. I heard Daire shouting at Caílte, telling him he was insane and would end his days as a wandering lunatic, homeless on the roads of Èriu. I heard Ruadan trying to intervene and make peace. Their words seemed to come from a greater and greater distance.

I realized I had crept away from their camp, done it silently and without thinking. I was back at the spot where I’d left my staff and traveler’s bag. I moved in a dream, finding my way to the road by the leaf-dappled light of the moon.

This is why Kelan died.… This is why Kelan died.…

Caílte’s words echoed through my mind as I walked through the dark. I needed time and a safe place to think, away from Father’s men. I’d been lucky, overhearing them without being discovered.

And what of Lord Morann’s party? How close were they? I was too shaken to deal with them now. With my nerves this taut, I wasn’t fit to spy on them. I’d make some clumsy move, reveal my presence, and then Lord Morann would have me and no need to set Devnet free.

I found the path and followed it, sweeping my eyes left and right with every step, seeking the telltale glow of campfires that might mean Lord Morann’s people were here. I saw none. My road broke free of the trees and brought me to the woodland’s edge. A moonlit meadow lay before me, embraced by a river whose rippling waters held the stars. A hill rose in the middle distance, its crest crowned with dark shapes that made it look like the lower jaw of some fantastic monster.

A gateway mound
, I thought, remembering tales of how unnatural hills like this earned the Fair Folk another name: People of the Mounds. They sometimes adorned the tops of
their underground retreats with giant standing stones. There was probably a portal to the Otherworld in the flank of the hill, the entry framed by weirdly carved blocks.

I should have been afraid.

I was, at first. I stood staring at it in wonder and terror, under a sky as black as the wings of the Morrígan’s ravens, but splashed and spangled with silvery light. As I watched, a cloud raced across the moon, a phantom with wings of smoke and eyes of flame.

Ea!
I called her name with my heart and started forward, across the open grassland. It didn’t matter if I’d seen a wandering spirit or only a vision of my own creation. The memory of my brave, wondrous bird blew away my fear with the beating of her wings and drew my footsteps to the mound.

I circled it, seeking an opening, and found one on the side that faced away from the forest. A massive white stone lay across the entryway, a thick slab of rock whose face was completely covered with an intricate pattern of whorls and curves. The spirals were so artfully carved that it was like staring into an eddying stream. A dark passage lay beyond the barricade.