“And am I not to be brought to the main hall, to sup?” Was this to be guest quarters, or Adair’s prison?
The boy said nothing.
“See if ye can bring me something to drink first,” Adair requested. “Mead or ale.”
Torlag went out hurriedly.
He did not return.
*
Never before hadAdair been away from home for more than a night or two while hunting, and that out in his own hills. Forests he knew right well, with views he’d seen since birth. He’d taken solace always in the land around him, soft and green, a congenial companion.
It had been a long while—many generations—since the men of the clan had gone out to war. Aye, they still trained, as they were subject at any time to being called upon by the high king. Father had been a strong warrior in his day, and Baen was yet. Adair himself was no mean hand with the sword when, as Father put it, he applied himself.
Being descended from the great Ardahl MacCormac, they had warrior in the blood.
Yet he was unfamiliar with the savagery he sensed in this place. And he’d seldom experienced such misery as beset him that night.
Since the young servant did not return, no food was brought. No summons came for him to take a meal in the hall. He might have gone out seeking his unwilling host, but the rain came down still harder, making that an uninviting prospect. He kept the fire going with the fuel at hand, and at last wrapped himself in the blankets and slept.
Chapter Five
When Adair awokethe next morning, he did not know where he was. Sunlight poured through the smoke hole at the center of the roof above him. The fire had long gone out. Very close at hand, surely up in the thatch, a bird sang a heartbreakingly sweet song.
Slowly it all returned to him. The wicked crossing from Erin and the climb up from the shore in the rain. His cold reception at the hands of his mother’s brother.
The lonely night.
He sat up with a groan and took stock of himself. Hunger and the desire to use the midden beset him. A land—a world—awaited outside.
Last night before taking to the bed, he’d changed into clothing from his pack, only slightly less damp than those garments he’d had on. He’d draped the others to dry, but they proved still wet to the touch now. He straightened what he had on, ran his fingers through his hair, and stuck his head outside.
What he saw made him emerge from the hut.
So this was Alba.
The large bulk of the great hall stood before him. Built of rough stone, it looked somehow unfinished in the raw morning light. The rain had flown while Adair slept, rolling inland over the rise he could see beyond, where the land clawed its way up from the shore. The sea…
Stepping out and around the dun, he got a good look.
A great, restless, ever-moving world.
Deep combers raked at the shingle shore where he’d disembarked yesterday. In fact, he could see their little boat hauled well up there above the water, in addition to several other small craft also securely beached.
The sky, fresh-washed, pale blue, stretched limitless toward home. Not far. Surely he could sail there on his own if need be, though he could not imagine his two companions wanted to stay here any more than he did.
A cluster of huts spread haphazardly over the shore and turf as if they’d grown up there and perched wherever they could get a hold. The partial stone wall encircled all. Others were up before him. He could see men on the shore, and a few women hurrying about. A pen off to one side contained some cattle. Beyond, a number of ponies and what might be one or two chariots.
As if anyone could run a chariot over this stony ground.
At home they were within an afternoon’s walk of the sea but did not live like this, hard upon the shore so the hiss and rush of the waves remained continually in the ears, and one could pick up its restless mood. From the heights of their home hills, they could glimpse it like a field of blue.
Just south and west of here, not so very far.
Standing there with longing pulling at him, he wondered how many days it might be before he could decently leave off trying to persuade his uncle and take himself home.
His father had told him not to return, not to come home, unless he had a promise of the land. But he would tell his father, when he arrived,Ye do not want any part o’ that place. It is wild and unwelcoming. Leave it go as a bad bet.
