Ordinary enough, aye, only—
At the sight of him, a hum started up in Bradana’s blood. One such as she’d never experienced, unless she could call it akin to what she felt when she was alone up in the hills. When the wind spoke to her, and the ground stirred beneath her feet, and an eagle rose with a rush of power. A feeling of being caught in the grip something much greater than herself.
She must be going mad. For he was but another accursed cousin from Erin. Not even her blood relation.
Yet the world, the very world, seemed to pause and draw a breath. The raindrops froze in the air and glittered, glittered before all resumed crashing down.
The young man approached and Kendrick stepped forward reluctantly to greet him.
Chapter Four
The settlement lookedsmaller and far less grand than Adair had expected. It perched upon the rocky rise above the sea and, from what he could see through the rain, had only a rough hold upon it. The main building, a stone dun with a reeded roof now dripping water, was of a goodly size. But fewer huts than he had anticipated clustered round its flanks, and the stone enclosure wall looked only half finished.
No matter; he was heartily glad to be here and anywhere besides that boat. The crossing had not been a good one. The rain had seemed to drive them from behind—away from Erin. They’d almost overturned rounding an island in furious seas. He’d rarely been so wet.
The climb up from the shore was steep. He could see several people waiting out front of the main dun. Was that Kendrick foremost among them? Impossible to tell.
The men who had helped pull their boat up onto the shore had not been welcoming. Neither, it appeared, was the man standing at the top of the rise.
As Adair reached him, one of the waiting figures stepped away. Another, a woman, emerged from the dun.
“Chief Kendrick?” Adair called, only to swiftly correct himself. “Uncle Kendrick? I bring ye greetings from Gawen MacMurtray in Erin.”
“Aye?” The man who faced Adair, almost barring the way, barked the word. Of goodly height and broad with it, he had fair hair darkened by the rain and an air of toughness he wore like the cloak over his shoulders. A wide, craggy face seamed by care betrayed his years, some two score of them. He wore a torc around his neck very similar to the one Father wore back home.
“And who, by Manannan’s eyeteeth, are you?” Nay, not welcoming at all.
“I am Adair, son to your brother, Gawen of Erin.”
Kendrick’s lips stretched in a terrible grimace. “By all the gods, another one? How many sons does thenathairhave?”
“I am the third and the last,” Adair told him, somewhat taken aback.
“Gawen MacMurtray is no’ my brother, but was brother to my sister, who is long gone. But I suppose ye’d better come in. I canna leave ye standing in the rain.”
The interior of the dun was dim, smoky, and far from grand. Maybe half the size of the hall back home, it lacked the carved pillars and the dais where Father usually sat. A poor fire smoldered in the central hearth, struggling against the damp air.
Still, it felt warmer than outside, and Adair shivered as he took up a stance and looked around.
He could not compare this place with what lay back home. That had been built over generations. This outpost had been here a mere score of years or so.
Kendrick did have a chair, a roughly carved thing at the head of the fire. He plopped down onto this and glared.
“Ye two, I know,” he said to Adair’s companions, Nolan and Flynn. “Ye will be housed where ye were before—but no’ for long. Do no’ get too comfortable.”
The men went out again, accompanied by a servant.
Adair shot a searching look at Kendrick. He bore only a faint resemblance to Adair’s brothers in the stark bones of his face and their strong build. Adair could not remember his mother well enough to glimpse a likeness.
“I thought I’d got rid o’ the last of ye,” Kendrick spat at him. “Yet here ye be.”
Adair did not know how to reply. Father insisted he’d been blessed with a clever and agile tongue, and mayhap that was true. He’d never, though, met with such an uncomfortable situation.
He glanced at the other occupants of the room, hoping for some cue. A woman, tall and slender, stood back from Kendrick’s chair. She gave off both an air of beauty and a disagreeableness similar to Kendrick’s, and was visibly heavy with child.
“My wife, Tavia,” Kendrick said, catching Adair’s look.
Adair bowed to her. “Mistress Tavia.”
