Flame of Sevenwaters (35 page)

I couldn’t see a thing. The forest around us was all gray shadows. “Where?”

“One man’s carrying something,” Finbar said. “A bundle maybe. It could be a dog. And two of the others have something between them in a cloak or blanket.”

“Bring them back!” I shouted into the deepening darkness. “Bring my dogs back here! How dare you take them!”

“I can’t see them anymore,” Finbar said.

A sound of rage and frustration burst from me, a wild, guttural growl such as I had not believed I was capable of making. I sank down to a crouch, crossing my arms over my face. There was no way we could follow them with night falling. We would quickly lose them, and likely lose ourselves.

“Maeve.” The little voice was calm as before; my brother put his hand on my bowed shoulders. “It’s nearly dark. We should look for a place to sleep.”

I couldn’t find any words. I couldn’t make myself straighten up, take decisions, be grown-up and capable.
Bear. Oh, Bear.

“If we shelter near the tree,” Finbar said, “we can go after them first thing in the morning. I can remember which way they went.”

As a plan it had many flaws, but through my distress I recognized that a plan was hope, and that hope was something we could not do without. I made myself get to my feet. I scooped up Caisin’s blanket, which still lay on the ground beneath the oak. Although the light was almost gone, I could see the earth was disturbed all around us, a sign of the heroic fight my boys had put up before they were taken. Oh, let them not be hurt. Let them be still alive.

Be strong,
I willed them. And I wanted to say,
We’ll find you,
but that would be a lie. Whatever Finbar might think, I knew that my first task in the morning must be to get him home. If that broke my heart, the more fool me for letting Bear and Badger inside a door that had been so long locked against love.

One thing my brother could always do and that was surprise me. He was the one who found a place for us, under a network of prickly, half-dead bushes. It was hardly comfortable, but it was dryish, well protected from the wind, and big enough for the two of us to squeeze into. Finbar spread out Caisin’s blanket, we sat down on it, and my brother draped my cloak around our shoulders. He passed me his waterskin; I took a mouthful and realized to my surprise that it was almost full. After a while I tipped out the store of nuts we had brought, and Finbar cracked some open between two stones.

It was a long while since I’d had a good meal, but I felt so sick and sad that I was hard put to take a single bite. I made myself chew and swallow my share, knowing I needed the strength to go on. When the meal was finished, all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry myself to sleep. But there were questions that must be asked. Where best to start? I did not want him to close off from me, as he had done before when it did not suit him to answer.

“Finbar?”

“Mm?”

“Who are the gray-cloak people? You spoke as if you’ve seen them before.”

“I see them sometimes. They live in the forest. I don’t know who they are.”

“Are they—” I stopped myself from asking straight out whether he thought they were fey or human. If they were Mac Dara’s people we were in deep trouble. “Finbar, why would they take Bear and Badger? What possible reason would anyone have to hurt them?” I must remember that he was only seven; his manner made it easy to lose sight of that. He was neither sage nor hero, but a little boy, and he must be tired, hungry and scared, for all his preternatural calm. “Never mind that,” I said. “Finbar, did you cross a bridge to get here?” Something about all this did not add up. He couldn’t have walked so far, or found the spider tree on his own. And what was that about there being a light to show him the way up?

“What kind of bridge?” Finbar asked. It was too dark now for
me to see his expression, but his voice sounded cautious, as if he were judging how much was safe to tell me.

“A long one made of withies, with nothing to hold on to,” I said. “Bear and I crossed it. We hadn’t seen Badger since he left the nemetons with you, but much later, after Bear and I had traveled a long way on foot, we found him again. He couldn’t have swum over the river; it was broad and swift flowing. But he wouldn’t have used the bridge. He’s terrified of bridges.”

After a brief silence, Finbar’s voice came to me in the darkness, solemn, weighty for all its childish note. “There’s more than one bridge, Maeve. There’s more than one way in and out.”

Those words were the small, cold claws of something deeply unwelcome, something perilous. I shrank from them even as I made myself ask, “In and out of where?”

“Here,” said Finbar. “The Otherworld.”

My jaw dropped. “
What?
”

“The Otherworld. Didn’t you know that was where we were?”

“What are you saying? That we are already over that margin, that we left our own world when we crossed that river? Why didn’t you tell me before? We’ve been eating these nuts and drinking the water! I ate mushrooms. I ate—”

“It’s all right, Maeve.” Finbar’s hand came out to rest against my sleeve. “I’ve eaten things here before and it didn’t do me any harm.”

“You what?” Horror upon horror. Unless he meant when he was a tiny baby. But I thought the story was that Mac Dara had found him a human wet nurse.

Finbar did not reply. He realized, perhaps, that this was one of the things he was not supposed to say.

“Finbar, look at me.”

Perhaps he turned his head; it was too dark to be sure.

“I know you wouldn’t lie to me. If you say we’re in the Otherworld, I have to believe it. We’ve lost Bear and Badger, and Swift, too, and we need to get home safely. You must answer my questions. Never mind if someone said you shouldn’t talk about this, or about your visions, or about anything at all. Whoever that
someone was, he probably didn’t foresee that we’d get into this sort of situation. Have you really been here before? I mean, apart from that time when you were a baby?”

“I’m not supposed to tell.” It was scarcely more than a whisper. “It’s dangerous. You don’t understand.”

I drew a slow breath. I would be calm. “Dangerous for whom? Or can’t you tell me that, either?”

“Everyone,” he said simply. “You shouldn’t ask me.”

“All right, I’ll ask a different question. You said a light guided you, showed you the oak tree with the hollow. And you slept there last night. What about the night before? Where were you? Was Badger still with you then?”

“That’s three questions.”

“I’m hoping you’ll answer all of them. Finbar, someone’s playing games with us. Someone lured us here. If you know who it was, or if your story can give us any clues, that could be very, very helpful.” After a moment’s silence, I added, “I have something to tell you, too. I met a woman of the Fair Folk, the first night I spent out here. She gave me this cloak and this blanket, as well as some food and drink. She said it was safe to eat; that I wasn’t over the border. And maybe that was true, because Bear and I didn’t cross the bridge until the second day.”

“Oh.” My brother spoke in a tone of complete surprise. “But—”

“But what?”

“But I’ve only been here one day and one night. I ran after Swift, and Badger came with me. We ran and ran, but Swift was too fast and he went out of sight. We got to the place where I—we came to a little wooden bridge over a stream, and I went over it but Badger splashed across in the water. We walked through the oak forest. Later on, we heard barking—I thought it was Bear—and Badger ran off and didn’t come back. I kept walking, and I saw a light in the distance, and when I reached it there was the big tree. I climbed up and found the nuts and the waterskin. I ate and drank and then I went to sleep. I woke up when I heard Bear and Badger barking, and then I saw you.”

It was a curiously simple account. “But, Finbar,” I protested,
“I’ve spent two nights sleeping rough; this is the third. I’ve walked for two days, not counting that first day when Swift ran away. It doesn’t add up.”
He sleeps as the squirrel sleeps.
“Maybe you were asleep for longer than you thought. Two nights and the whole day in between. And most of today as well.” The thought made my skin prickle. On the other hand, sleeping in the tree, he’d been safe from the unwelcome attentions of the gray-cloak people, whoever they were, not to speak of predators such as wolves. Perhaps whoever had put him there was a friend. I thought of Caisin Silverhair’s face, uncannily perfect, and those limpid eyes that seemed incapable of guile.

“Finbar.”

Silence.

“Why did you say you couldn’t get down from the oak tree by yourself? Why did you make me climb up to get you?”

“I’m not supposed to—”

“Finbar,
tell me.
” I struggled to hold on to my temper.

A silence. Then he said, “Luachan says I shouldn’t talk about what I see in the water or in the fire. He says I get mixed up. I might tell you something was going to happen, and you’d be scared, and it would only be a story.” Another silence. “But sometimes it isn’t a story, it’s true. It was like that with the tree. In the water, I saw myself sleeping up there. I knew I had to stay until you came and got me down, because that’s the way it was in the vision. The way things were meant to happen.”

He still wasn’t telling me the full truth; I was sure of it. “I don’t understand,” I said. “You say this is how things are meant to happen. But if I hadn’t been up in the tree, Bear and Badger wouldn’t have been taken, and…” I made myself stop, just a little too late.

“I’m sorry.” Finbar’s voice was small and shaky.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I said. “If Bear and Badger couldn’t fight them off, I don’t suppose I could have. Finbar, what Luachan says about visions—that’s reasonable, I suppose, since you’re still young. But if you see something that frightens you, something that makes you worried about the future, you shouldn’t keep it to yourself. Staying silent isn’t always the right thing to do.” It could
be perilous, with Mac Dara playing his evil games. But I did not say that aloud. “Luachan is your tutor, so I suppose you must follow his rules. But sometimes it seems as if you have another set of rules to follow, rules that nobody else knows about. If you would tell me about those, it might help us get safely home.”

“It’s all rules, Maeve.” Finbar edged out from under my cloak and lay down on the blanket as if ready for sleep. “Don’t go beyond the nemetons; always sit beside Luachan at supper. Don’t go out riding without Father. Stay in sight of the keep.” He waited a little, then added, “That’s one of the things I like about you. You don’t care about rules.”

“And look where it’s got me.” He still hadn’t provided an explanation. But I thought that if I pushed any further I would make him cry. And most likely he still wouldn’t tell me what I needed to know. “I think I’m a bad example,” I said, lying down next to him and doing my best to pull the cloak over the two of us. “I’m sure you never broke rules before you met me. But when Swift ran off, you did exactly what I would have done.”

“No, Maeve.” In the darkness, Finbar’s voice was a forlorn thread of sound. “If you’d done it, you would have caught Swift by now, and you’d be safely home with him, and Bear and Badger, too. You’re brave enough to stand up to anyone.”

I turned on my side and put my arm over him. “I’ve been well taught,” I said. “But you’re brave, too, Finbar. Only a very brave boy would have done what you did. And tomorrow we’re going to be brave together.”

I waited until he was asleep before I let myself cry again. I wept bitter tears for Bear and Badger, and for the errors I had made, and for the sorrows Mac Dara had laid on my family and Cruinn’s. But especially I wept for Bear: for the warm body that should have lain beside mine; for his shining, hopeful eyes; for the love and friendship he had shown me every step of the way. What human comrade could ever be so loyal? What man could ever love me the way Bear did? It did not matter to Bear if I was ugly or beautiful,
scarred or perfect, uncouth or demure. He loved me exactly as I was. He loved as only a dog can love, with heart and soul, without reservations. As Bounder had loved me. But this felt different, because I was not a child anymore, and I understood how rare it was and how precious. I knew the value of what I had lost and I mourned for it.

The cold and my sorrow kept me awake, though I snuggled close to Finbar, hoping that between the blanket, the cloak and me, he would be warm enough. My mind went around in circles, trying to make sense of what little he had told me, trying to work out why Mac Dara might want the two of us in the Otherworld and why Caisin Silverhair had given me the instructions that led me to Finbar, without warning me that those same instructions would carry me over the border into Mac Dara’s realm. I could not get past the fact that she’d known where he was but had not taken the simple—for her, surely it was simple—step of bringing him home.

In the middle of the night, when I was drifting uneasily between sleep and restless half-slumber, I looked up through the network of thorny branches that sheltered us and saw lights in the sky. An eerie music sounded, like hundreds of tiny bells. I was gripped by an uncomfortable sensation, as if the points of many needles were gently brushing my skin. The lights brightened, their hue now the green of the deepest forest, now the blue of the broadest lake, now the red of a sunrise yet to come. I edged toward the opening of our makeshift shelter, gazing up into a dark, soft sky in which, here and there, a star peeped down between the clouds. The moon was a dim glow behind the veil. The forest lay still around me.

The music grew louder. I could hear a harp and a flute over the tinkling bells, and strange, high singing. The lights drew closer, coming from somewhere under the oaks, perhaps the direction in which the dogs had been taken, but perhaps not. I crouched there frozen, torn between curiosity and caution. Were these the gray-cloak people Finbar had spoken of? Might they be bringing Bear and Badger back? Or had they returned for me and my brother? It
was hard to stay under cover and see out at the same time. Should I wake Finbar? Maybe we should run before they came close enough to spot us.