"He was devoured by wolves. All we found were the bloody rags he wore, a few bones, and—"
Fury burst free at the fates who dared mock him. Now he would never know for certain whether or not he was rid of the boy. "How the devil can you be certain it was Owaine?" Conn raged. "It could have been anyone! If the boy were clever, it could have been a ruse!"
"It was no ruse. I found this buried in the wolf carcass that lay nearby." Magnus extended his hand. Conn peered down at the exquisite contours of the dagger Niall had given the boy, Owaine's greatest treasure.
Triumph surged through Conn as he took the dagger in his hand. "You are right," Conn murmured. "The boy is dead. He would never surrender this dagger while he lived."
Magnus thrust out his chest. "So I have proven myself worthy to you. I have completed the task you set for me."
Conn gave a snort of disgust. "The wolves are the ones I should reward. They killed the boy.You stumbled into the midst of their victory by accident."
Magnus's face reddened, his gaze sullen. "I knew that you would say that. But you will not discount me so easily when you see what else I have brought you. I stumbled across this thief soon after leaving the wolves' kill. He was gloating over his treasure, too much a fool to hide it from us or read what was scribed on it."
Conn chuckled with scorn. "Nothing a witling like you could discover would interest me."
Magnus's eyes grew hard, a reminder that cubs could turn to wolves, and one might not realize it until teeth pierced throat. "If you have no interest, perhaps I shall take the glory for this myself," Magnus boasted. "I know there will be glory aplenty for the man who snatched this treasure from a thief's hand."
Magnus rummaged in the front of his leine, drawing an object from the travel-grimed folds of linen. He thrust the object into a shaft of sunlight. Gold shimmered, rich, lustrous, exquisite.
Conn had treasures aplenty of his own, but he could not restrain himself from reaching toward the circlet of gold.
"Nay, Father." Magnus snatched it from his grasp. “You claimed you had no interest in it. Sothis bracelet, carved with Fintan's name, is mine forevermore."
"Fintan?" Aye, that was why the bracelet was so familiar, Conn thought, thunderstruck He remembered seeing it on the wrist of the spear caster's wife long ago.
Conn feigned indifference. "It is no great marvel that someone snatched this trinket from beneath the spear caster's nose. Fintan was gifted at aiming a javelin, but the man was still blind. To steal from him would have been easy enough."
"Even so, the people revere him. The warrior who brings to justice the thief who dared rob such a great hero would gain much honor, would he not, Father?"
"Aye." Conn twisted his fiery mustache, brows lowered in contemplation. "You would gain more warriors as allies. Solidify your claim as future chieftain."
"Now you will have to name me astainist. Your heir. For I will be the man people whisper of in awe. The rescue of this bracelet will be more than a match for Niall and his quests!"
How many times had Conn heard his sons grumbling thus? How many times had he warned them that in using Niall's feats as their measure,they admitted his superiority over them? Conn turned away, suddenly weary.
"Judging by his heroics, Niall will be difficult to surpass in the eyes of the people," he cautioned. "Yet men of his kind are reckless. Misfortunes befall them every day." Conn felt an unexpected stab of loss. Irritated, he brushed it aside. "Now, let me see this thief you have snared. We will make his execution a spectacle Glenfluirse will remember forever."
That was the course he must take, Conn thought as Magnus strode out to reclaim his prisoner. Conn would play the outraged chieftain, demand justice for the mighty Fintan, even though the spear caster lay dead. Even Conn's aspirations of being known as the Undefeated One had been lost in the shadow of Fintan's greatness. But if he used this thief to the best advantage, surely he would be worthy of a bard song then. The more conspicuously he could figure in Fintan's legend, the better chance Conn would be remembered.
It was a bitter draught to swallow, knowing his only claim to legend was as vassal to another man—not in rank but rather in valor. But he had repaid Fintan for the slight in a way no one else would ever know. Despite all Fintan's courageand fairy magic, the legendary spear caster was dead. He had not had the power to save his daughter's life from beyond the grave. Caitlin of the Lilies lay moldering in the dirt, dead at Conn's command.
Grim satisfaction filled the chieftain as he heard Magnus reenter the chamber. Conn turned, catching his first glimpse of the thief.
Filthy hair clung to the squat dome of his skull. Thick-fingered hands twisted in the folds of wool covering a coarse body. His features, repulsive enough, were made ridiculous by bristly eyebrows that crawled like a fat caterpillar from ear to ear. Most disgusting of all, he was blubbering, so terrified Conn feared the wretch would soil himself at any moment.
If only Fintan could see this disgrace of a man who had outwitted him. It was a pity Conn could not reward the thief rather than execute him, but then, this man was such a pathetic figure, perhaps execution would be the greatest mercy Conn could show to him.
"So," Conn intoned ominously. "You are the thief who dared steal from the greatest warrior Glenfluirse has ever known."
"N-nay, oh great one! I am an honest man!"The wretch cringed. "I swear on the Stone of Fal that I stole nothing!"
"A brave man or a foolish one, since the Stone will blast a liar into eternity." A liar, Conn thought with a twinge, or a false chieftain. "If you did not steal this bracelet, then where did you come by it, my fine fool? In a fairy bower?"
"It was traded for a cow I owned. A most wondrous cow, bewitched, she was, and—"
"Bewitched?" Magnus chortled. "Liquid gold would have to pour from the beast's udders to be worth such a price! Father, this fool keeps babbling nonsense. But no one with half a wit would make such a trade!"
"It was not only for the cow," the man amended. "It was payment to keep someone's head from beneath the blade of a sword. She stole the cow from me, she did! I admit to looking forward to seeing the little witch get her due—er, at seeing justice done. But life is hard. I—" Conn glared at the groveling mess before him, out of patience with the whole affair. "From whom did you get this bracelet? The truth, man. And no more blubbering, lest I am tempted to sever a finger for each unnecessary word you utter."
