Heir to Sevenwaters (58 page)

I turned and put my arms around her. “I know, and I am sad about it,” I said. I would miss her. She would always be my twin, the sister with whom I shared a special bond. But I knew in my heart that the prospect of living on the island with the man I loved had quickly relegated the rest of my family to second place. My world had changed. Over the season since Johnny had brought Cathal to Sevenwaters,
I
had changed more than I could have believed possible.

CHAPTER 17

I
had expected to fall into a death like slumber as soon as Deirdre left, but my thoughts kept spinning in circles and after a while, realizing I would not sleep, I rose and dressed again. I went to find my younger sisters, wanting to thank Sibeal once more for her help. Sibeal said there was no need for thanks; she had simply done what a sister should do. Eilis bombarded me with questions about my visit to the Otherworld.

“Were there people with wings, Clodagh? What kind of horses did they have? And what about the food? In the stories it’s supposed to be so delicious that humans can’t stop themselves from eating it and then they have to stay there forever. Or they get back home and then pine away with longing because human food tastes like ashes.”

“The only thing I tried was water from a stream,” I said, feeling as if I were a disappointment. “It doesn’t seem to have done me any harm.”

“But what about Cathal?” Eilis was insistent. “You said he was there ages and ages.
He
must have eaten the food.”

“Well, yes,” I said with some reluctance. “But the rules would be different for him.”

“Why—oh, you mean because he’s a sort of half and half?”

“That’s right.”

“And perhaps the reason Clodagh could drink the water safely,” put in Sibeal, “was that there’s one of the Old Ones in our ancestry, so even we have a little thread of the Otherworld in us.”

This had not occurred to me, but alongside the other oddities of the last few days it sounded perfectly plausible.

“Did you see Deirdre of the Forest?” Eilis asked.

“No,” I said. “I thought I did, but it was someone else. Eilis, it may not be a good idea to talk about this too openly, not while there are so many visitors in the house.”

“Can I talk to Coll about it?”

“I doubt if you’ll be able to stop yourself,” I said dryly. “But not if any of Father’s guests are about, do you understand?”

“Yes, Clodagh.” The compliant words were belied by her cheeky grin. Well, I supposed it would be an open secret soon enough, that one of Lord Sean’s daughters was marrying a man who was only half human. This would make it doubly important for Eilis to wed as well as Deirdre had, when her turn came. I wished her a man who would be suitable both in the eyes of the world and in hers.

I went out into the courtyard, wondering whether Cathal, too, had found himself unable to sleep. Strolling down toward the stables, I remembered housing Willow in the little harness room during her visit to our home. I thought again of her strange tales and how I had been so slow to understand their true meanings. The clurichauns, the magical signs hidden in clothing, the significance of green; it should have alerted me to the importance of Cathal’s cloak with its cargo of talismans designed to protect him from his father. Instead, for a little I had believed it might mean he was a traitor. Wolf-child; I had seen Cathal in that tale from the first. I had recognized in it his chill awareness of being forever outside, forever different. As for the story of the fairy woman and her half-human daughter, the charm cast by Albha had been exact in its revelation of what awaited Cathal in the Otherworld. He had understood it; I had failed to do so until it was almost too late. And if I hadn’t left the hall halfway through the tale, perhaps I would have realized right at the start that even the most powerful of charms can be undone, if only one has the key.

By the stables something stirred. I squinted against the sun, trying to make it out. What was that by the door to the harness room, a shadow against the silver-gray of the weathered wood . . . a figure in a hooded cloak? A chill ran through me, deep in the marrow. Mac Dara couldn’t be here, not so soon, surely. The Lord of the Oak was subtle, a plotter. If he came back in a fresh attempt to harm me or to lure Cathal—
when
he came—he would plan his mission with care. I looked again. Now there were several men there, Inis Eala warriors leading horses out to the yard. One man wore a gray cloak, but the hood was down, revealing close-cropped hair and facial tattoos. The others were in tunics and trousers. A false alarm. Probably. Later, I would tell Cathal. And I would tell Father. Mac Dara must not be given an opportunity to use my family as leverage again. And I would die before I let him take Cathal.

“Clodagh?”

I whirled around.

“I’m sorry if I startled you,” Gareth said. He was standing right behind me. “I’ve been sent to fetch you. Cathal’s ready to talk to Lord Sean now.”

So he hadn’t slept either. “Of course,” I said. “Where are they?”

“I’ll take you.”

I fell into step beside him. After the fright I’d just given myself, an armed escort was very welcome even in my own house. We made our way back through the kitchen, along a hallway, up a narrow flight of steps and along a gallery toward a row of storage chambers. Father had evidently taken steps to ensure this meeting took place well out of the view of his visitors.

“Gareth?” I ventured after looking around to make sure there was nobody in sight.

“Yes, Clodagh?”

“Has there been any more talk about the succession, now that Finbar’s safe? Has Father formally named his heir?”

Gareth gave a little smile. “Not yet,” he said. “Johnny tells me that if the treaty is signed, Lord Sean plans to end the council by making a public declaration. They have the details worked out.”

I decided to be bold, since I was going to be living on the island, where codes of behavior were somewhat less constrained than in the halls of chieftains. “Cathal told me about you and Johnny,” I said quietly. “I hope whatever Father says about the succession won’t make you unhappy, Gareth.”

“One learns compromise,” Gareth said. “What is offered me I rejoice in. What is beyond my reach I don’t waste time regretting. Inis Eala is a good place. You’ll be welcome there, Clodagh.”

“Thank you,” I said as we came up to the door of an unobtrusive chamber, where Gareth gave three sharp knocks, waited to a count of five, then rapped out the triple knock again.

“Come in.” It was my father’s voice.

Gareth opened the door for me. Within the small chamber was a formidable group of men—with my father were his druid uncle Conor, Johnny and Cathal. Conor was seated, a tranquil figure in his white robe. Father stood with arms folded. Johnny was by the narrow window, staring out across the courtyard below. Cathal was extremely still, arms by his sides, shoulders square, head held high. He was facing Father, his back to the door. The sight of him made my heart leap. Had we really been parted only one morning? It felt like an age.

“I’m here,” I said, walking in with Gareth behind me. Cathal’s whole body tensed as he heard my voice, and for a moment I was back in that little cell, seeing him for the first time after Mac Dara took him. I moved to stand beside him and slipped my arm through his. He let out his breath in a rush. I rested my head briefly against his shoulder.

Behind us, Gareth went out and shut the door.

“Welcome, Daughter,” said Father coolly. “Cathal has given us an account of his vision concerning Glencarnagh, and has explained his reasons for sharing it with you. That episode caused us considerable difficulty; I can only be grateful that we seem to have the truth now. I thank the gods that this did not develop beyond a war of words. What we require now is some clarification from you. Can you tell us exactly what Mac Dara said to you on the issue?”

I didn’t even want to think about Mac Dara. What I had seen—or thought I had seen—by the stables had unnerved me. I cleared my throat, and explained that Mac Dara had openly admitted causing the raid and the fire, and that he must have manipulated Cathal’s vision to implicate Illann in the attack. “The only thing he wanted was to get Cathal across into the Otherworld,” I said. “He anticipated that Cathal would warn me. He stole Finbar in circumstances that would place suspicion on Cathal; he knew I’d feel obliged to go after my brother. He made sure I was the only one who recognized Becan as a real baby. Mac Dara knew Cathal would insist on coming with me. He used love as a weapon; my love of my family and Cathal’s love for me. He wouldn’t have thought twice about what this might mean for anyone else, Illann, for instance, or you and Mother. The Fair Folk don’t understand love, not the way we do. They think of everything in terms of power.”

Father made no comment. Instead, he looked at Conor.

“This is entirely consistent with my knowledge of the Tuatha De,” the druid said.

“And yet,” said Father, frowning, “the Fair Folk have long been friends of the Sevenwaters family. Why would they suddenly turn against us, wreaking such havoc without a thought?”

“I hope you do not doubt Clodagh’s word.” Cathal’s voice was quiet, precise and dangerous. “My lord.”

Father sighed. “I will not make that error again,” he said. “But this is troubling. Relieved as I am to have Illann’s innocence established, it seems to me there is a threat of far greater significance in all of this.”

“For that, I take responsibility.” The edge was gone from Cathal’s voice. “The ills that have befallen your family recently have all been caused by my father’s quest to reclaim me. If I had not come to Sevenwaters, Mac Dara would have left you in peace.”

“In that case it’s at least half my fault,” put in Johnny with a faint smile. “You argued hard enough not to come. I thought the trip would be good for you. Next time I’ll listen more carefully when you put a case to stay behind.”

“Lord Sean is right about a bigger threat,” Cathal said. “If I remain here, my father’s attention will be on Sevenwaters and he will use whatever tricks he can to draw me back into his own realm. Clodagh’s decision to befriend me has put her at particular risk. We must both speak to you very soon, my lord, on the implications of that. The danger we face makes quick action essential.”

In the short silence that followed, I saw on the faces of Johnny, of Conor, of my father that each of them understood exactly what he meant.

“Let us deal with matters in a logical sequence,” said Conor. “Sean, it seems you owe Illann an apology. Should we call him in?”

“On that issue, I have a suggestion,” Cathal said.

“Tell us,” said Father. His tone had changed. While still less than warm, it had thawed considerably.

“I will apologize to Illann for all of us,” said Cathal. “I will give him a full explanation. He is your daughter’s husband; he should know the truth. The fault here is not yours, Lord Sean. On the matter of Glencarnagh, you acted as any chieftain would under the circumstances.” I heard in his tone, and in his words, that he was a leader to the bone and would answer to no man. I heard also that somehow, without any need for discussion, he had already become family.

“An apology,” said Father, regarding Cathal quizzically. “You believe you can summon the appropriate tone of humility?”

“I can summon whatever tone is required, my lord.”

“Very well,” said Father. “Let’s do it now. I’ll add a few words of my own; I cannot allow you to bear the full weight of this, Cathal. If Illann’s prepared to accept your apology, we may have this treaty signed tonight, and some real goodwill come out of this wretched course of events.”

That night after supper eight chieftains of Ulaid set their signs to Father’s treaty, and Illann was one of them. He was looking rather withdrawn, but the rest of them seemed well pleased. The two leaders who had stayed away from Deirdre’s wedding were both present, and Eoin of Lough Gall was smiling as he set his mark on the parchment. He made a little speech thanking Father for getting them all to the council table together and managing to prevent the gathering from descending into a brawl, and everyone laughed and applauded.

My sisters and I had remained in the hall after the meal to watch the signing, for the treaty was a momentous achievement by any measure. We had left the table once supper was over and now stood by the hearth as the men completed their formal business. Inis Eala guards were stationed around the hall, a presence that could never be described as discreet, since their tattooed faces and generally fearsome air must always draw attention. However, tonight it seemed Johnny had told them to be unobtrusive; they did their best to blend into the background, but their eyes were knife sharp. Cathal was not present. I had not seen him since the meeting with Illann. I hoped he was sleeping.

“Thank goodness,” murmured Deirdre in my ear as Conor sprinkled sand over the treaty document to hasten the drying of the ink, and the chieftains mingled affably around the dais. “It’s signed at last. Illann said Cathal apologized this afternoon. Did you make him do that, Clodagh?”