Dead by his own dirk? By Ardahl’s hand? She could believe none of it.
But she followed. Mam went first after the men carrying Conall, and then Liadan, clasping Flanna’s hand.
Liadan glanced into her young sister’s face. It wore a look that must reflect her own. Pale with shock. Wide-eyed with disbelief.
Remember this moment,said a voice in Liadan’s mind.Remember your mam’s grief and your own. The look in your sister’s eyes. Store it in anger. If ’tis Ardahl who has done this, he must pay.
He must pay in kind, however she felt about him.
*
He had becomeher enemy, had Ardahl. No matter how long she had followed after him with wistful eyes. Her brother’s friend, who seldom seemed to notice her and who, when he did, clearly still thought of her as a child. No matter how she wanted to catch his smile, which was a singular thing, lighting and transforming a face ordinarily all lines and angles, wreathing it in joy. No matter how the glint of sunlight on auburn hair could turn her head. Or how she tried—in vain—to guess at the thoughts teeming in his hazel eyes.
A woman, however youthful, should not follow after a man that way. Especially one who was so plainly uninterested in her.
Now she followed her brother’s body instead, borne by four strong warriors. Hearing Mam’s wails all the while, watching her stumble and nearly go down once, twice.
Before they reached the healers’ roundhouse, she let go of Flanna’s hand and hurried forward to support Mam. They entered the hut together.
Somehow, so swiftly, word had gone ahead of them. The healers were waiting and ready when the little group arrived.
They stretched Conall’s body on a pallet and gathered around him. Sunlight streamed in through the smoke hole in the roof—so bright and beautiful was the day—and the three healers, three being a sacred number, bent close to him.
One of the men, Master Dathi, was aged, the other two younger, his assistants. Dathi’s veined hands trembled as he reached to hover above the handle of the knife, as if afraid to touch.
One of the younger men fluttered careful fingers at Conall’s neck. “Dead, master.”
“Aye. Och, aye.” Dathi closed his eyes and whispered a prayer. For Conall’s spirit? That it might wing swiftly westward toTír na nÓg, the land of the blessed?
They all should have done that. She should. In her horror, she’d forgotten.
Had she imperiled her brother? Would his spirit now fail to reach the place of rest?
With an arm about her mother, who trembled violently, she eyed Conall’s face. He looked so very peaceful. No hint that his best friend had just stabbed him to the heart. No anger, no fear, only the beautiful face of a youthful man at rest.
Gone from them so swiftly. How could that be? Whether Conall’s spirit had winged to the west or otherwise, he had departed their lives.
No more early mornings spent with him when he got up for training and she rose also, being of a sort unable to keep to her bed once the sun was up. No making a meal so he could break his fast while he teased her and they laughed together. No moregoing to him with her troubles, the wise older brother—for Mam had lost two babes between her son and her elder daughter—seeking his strength and caring. Knowing he would mend things for her if he could.
Where be ye?she asked his quiet face. No answer, save a flicker of the sunlight coming down through the roof above him.
Flanna began to sob. Master Dathi looked at her kindly. “Why d’ye no’ take your sister away?” he suggested to Liadan. “Before we prepare the body.” His old hands again hovered over the handle of the dirk. Did she want to see that drawn from her brother’s breast?
But she shook her head. “I will stay and support my mam.”
Mam lifted her head. “Go, Liadan. Comfort your sister. If I faced watching your da go to his grave, I can face this.”
But could she? Da’s death had near leveled her. Changed the bright, cheerful woman she was. As would this. It would change all of them.
Liadan clothed her sister’s hand with her own, and went.
Chapter Three
Thrice had thehead priest, whose name was Aodh, asked Ardahl what happened. Thrice had he told them fairly he did not know.
Finally, Chief Fearghal spoke up. “How can ye fail to know how this happened, when ye stood right there?”
Before Ardahl could answer again, a clatter at the door of Fearghal’s quarters, where they remained, heralded an arrival.
