Juliet Marillier - Heart's Blood

Anluan put a hand against his leather breast-piece, over his heart, and smiled his crooked smile.The weary eyes softened; I had never seen such a blend of pride and tenderness. Then he went over to Olcan and Fianchu, and crouched down beside them.

“I know there are things that need to be talked about,” Olcan said.“Go ahead, don’t mind me. I’ll just sit here a bit.”

“You put up a brave fight down there yourself, Olcan,” said Rioghan. “Expert hand with the axe.”

“Did what I could.Wish I could have saved him.”

“Fianchu showed exemplary courage,” said Anluan. “He was a dear friend to us all. I owe him my life. I owe the two of you a debt of gratitude that can never be repaid.This is not your struggle.”

“Ah, well.” Olcan accepted the ale cup Magnus offered him. “Maybe it’s not, but I feel like part of your family now, and so did he. He was a good dog, Fianchu.” His simple epitaph spoken, he lifted the cup, drank, set it back down. “Welcome home, Caitrin. Didn’t think to say it before. It’s good to see you.”

“Gearróg said you had urgent news for us, Caitrin,” Anluan said. “He’s standing guard beyond the door there, and we’ve sent Cathaír round to the other side, so we’ll be warned if anyone comes. Tell us what has happened.”

We seated ourselves at the table, though Olcan stayed on the floor. I told them the tale of Nechtan’s experiment, so nearly successful but turned awry by the girl who had not wanted to give up her life so her mentor could have his uncanny army; her discovery of the counterspell, her delight at her own cleverness, her despair when she could not use the words to save herself. The curse pronounced in silence, the curse whose form I knew because the obsidian mirror gave me a window into the mind of whoever had written the text that lay beside it. One hundred years of ill luck; one hundred years of sorrow; one hundred years of failure.

“And she had the power to make it work,” I said, as my audience sat around me hushed and still.“She had learned far more from Nechtan than he probably ever realized; she was as apt as he was at the casting of spells. I will shadow your steps and those of all you hold dear , that was part of it. She has done so for four generations, stirring up the host and whispering words of despair to each chieftain in turn. She has used her skills in sorcery to add to the chaos.”

“But . . .” Anluan’s arm was tense against mine. “How could I not see this? How could I not recognize it? You’re saying all of it, the voice they fear so much, the frenzy that causes them to lose their minds and attack at random, has been entirely her doing?”

“I believe so,” I said.

“Great God, Caitrin!” exclaimed Anluan. “If anyone other than you had told me this I would have dismissed it as sheer fantasy. Whispering words of despair . That rings true. I have been all too ready to believe them. To claim them as my own. I must have been blind.”

“I suppose,” I said, “that part of her skill may be in making others see her as perfectly harmless.” She hadn’t tried very hard with me; her enmity had been plain from the start. Still, it had taken me a very long time, almost too long, to realize the extent of her malice and her power.“It seems your father spent time with her, perhaps even seeking her help with his botanical work and welcoming her companionship after your mother died. But . . . well, there’s something I found that I think you should read now. It was stored away with Muirne’s personal things.” I fished Irial’s last notebook out from the pouch at my belt, opened it at the first page and gave it to him.

In the silence that ensued, Magnus got up and poked the fire, I refilled people’s cups, and Olcan sat quietly with his old friend. Rioghan and Eichri looked at each other across the table, the shadow of a looming farewell removing all trace of their customary sardonic humor. When Anluan had finished reading, he sat in silence for a little. Then he said flatly, “She killed him. He wanted to live, and she killed him.”

“I believe so.Your father died from the same poison she used on you.” I glanced at Magnus, whose eyes had widened. “In this letter, Irial writes of making the decision to step out from his fog of grief; he tells the shade of Emer that he will never forget her, but that he will watch her live on in Anluan. It is not the message of a man about to kill himself from despair. Aislinn—Muirne—chose to keep this from Anluan, and from you, Magnus. She loved him, and she wanted to keep everything the way she believed it should be here on Whistling Tor. It was bad enough that Irial loved Emer as he could never love Aislinn.When he wanted to bring hope to the Tor and the folk who lived here, when he wanted a life for his son that would be better than his own, Aislinn must have seen it as a betrayal. She couldn’t bear it. So she ended it. I believe she was responsible for your mother’s death as well, Anluan. That could never be proven, of course.” I said nothing of Conan and Líoch.This was more than enough for now.

“Holy Mother of God,” muttered Magnus. “The uncanny fire; the way nobody saw a thing until it was too late . . .”

“Fire without smoke; smoke without fire. The method is in one of those grimoires. As I said, she was—is—an able practitioner of sorcery.”

Anluan had bunched his good hand into a fist. His eyes were cold as frost. “There is no doubt that Nechtan wronged her,” he said. “But this is indeed a long and bitter vengeance.Where is she now?”

Seeing the fury on his face, no less alarming for the obvious control he was imposing on himself, I was glad I had not mentioned that Aislinn had threatened me with a carving knife. “I don’t know,” I said. “But she’ll be watching. We need to be careful right up until the words of the counterspell have been spoken. She doesn’t like things to deviate from the pattern she has established here. She will fight to keep her curse in place, though I think it has caused her only misery. She tried to make me give her the book by tormenting Gearróg, and then by hurting the little girl. In the end I passed it over and she ripped it up.”

A silence; five pairs of eyes were turned on me in question.

“So she believes we can’t do it,” I said. “She saw me using the obsidian mirror with her book open; she must know, or guess, that I’ve seen the ritual. But from what she said, it’s plain that she doesn’t credit me with the wit to remember the words of Nechtan’s invocation after one hearing and a glance at her book. The counterspell is very simple: the chieftain must speak the Latin invocation backwards. I imagine the other elements of the ritual would need to be the same, the pentagram, the snake circle, the herbs and so on. There is a woman of the host who might be able to assist with that.”

Anluan was still staring at me. “You memorized it? All of it?”

I nodded.“And now you must do the same,” I said.“In private, behind closed and guarded doors. Aislinn won’t want us to do this. If she believes it’s a vain attempt based on little more than guesswork, we might manage to finish it.”

“Are you certain this will work, Caitrin?” Eichri’s voice was unsteady.

“Not certain, no. But I am sure I have the words correct, and I am sure about the form of the ritual.What remains to be tested is Aislinn’s conviction that the counterspell is something so obvious. It seems surprising that Nechtan did not think to try it.”

“He probably didn’t want to,” Magnus put in. “He may never have given up the idea that he could some day turn the host into the mighty army he wanted.And if that was his thinking, he probably never told Conan the words of the original invocation—why would he? Most likely, there was no written record of it apart from these notes of Aislinn’s. Of course, there was the book Nechtan got it from in the first place, but Conan may not have known about that.”

“Besides,” I said,“she did pronounce the curse, a hundred years of sorrow and so on, and perhaps the counterspell wouldn’t have worked until that time was up.”

“Which it is tonight,” observed Olcan from his corner. “All Hallows’ Eve.”

“If Muirne—Aislinn—is as clever as you say,” Eichri said, “she must know that.Why is she fighting against it?”

I could not think how to put it into words: my conviction that Aislinn was trapped in her own spell, that her wish to punish and hurt each chieftain of Whistling Tor in turn went parallel with her love for them. I imagined her dropping the poison into the jug as tears welled in her eyes.

“Aislinn is not part of the host,” Eichri pointed out.“The counterspell might not work on her. She might linger on forever, casting a blight on the Tor and all who dwell here. Don’t look at me like that, Caitrin.”

“She will be gone from here before the sun rises again,” Anluan said, his voice like iron. “As for the threat today, while I am on the Tor Muirne must comply with my will.We must prepare to enact this ritual, and when we need her to come, I will summon her.” He looked at the others, each in turn, his eyes resting last on Eichri and on Rioghan. “You understand that I must do this,” he said.

“Ah, well,” said Eichri with a forlorn attempt at nonchalance,“I’d best claim on that last wager, Councillor. Pay up!”

Rioghan thrust a hand into his robe and drew out a shining silver coin. It danced across the tabletop into his old friend’s hand.

“What was that one for?” I asked, blinking back tears.

“Whether you’d be back before or after Anluan won his battle.”

I stared at them. “You all believed I would come back?”

“You belong here.” Anluan’s fingers tightened around mine. “Sending you away was the worst error of my life, as our friends here have been reminding me regularly ever since the day we found you gone. I did not consider that in losing you, we lost our beating heart.”

“It was right for me to go.And right for me to come back.”

“Did you find that sister of yours?” Magnus asked. “I liked the sound of her.”

“There’s a whole story there, part sad, part happy, part in between. When we have time, I’ll tell it.” I glanced at Anluan. “I should teach you the charm. It’s in Latin, and you have to say it backwards.”

“Brighid save me.We’d best start straightaway.” Anluan rose to his feet. “Or almost straightaway; I must wash and change, at least. Olcan, will you need help . . . ?”

“I’ll help him,” Magnus said. “You’ve more than enough to do. Brave fight.You showed your colors as a leader, in my opinion.”

Anluan inclined his head in acknowledgment, his cheeks flushing red. Magnus’s words had been akin to a father’s recognition that his son had proved himself a man.

“We’ll be needing to receive Brión and Fergal up here some time later,” Rioghan said. “Word is that they’ll report in person once the Normans are driven beyond the borders. Since you’ll be busy, Magnus, I’ll make some arrangements for that; look out the best mead and so on.”

“Thank you,” Anluan said. “Caitrin, I’ll send Cathaír across for you as soon as I’m fit for company. I want you to keep Gearróg with you at all times. Call him in now; stay in sight of him.”

Then he went away to his quarters, and Eichri headed off to look for the mead and some other supplies suitable for visiting chieftains. After speaking quietly to Olcan, Magnus called in two burly men of the host to help lift Fianchu. I gave the hound a little kiss on the nose, and Rioghan grasped Olcan by the arm, saying,“A grievous loss, old friend. I wish you strength.” Then they bore the dog away for burial.