Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [108]
"To guard thee from thy back," he intoned, tying a length of red yarn first around my right wrist, then around my left. "To preserve thee from thy front. From the crown of thy head and forehead." He stooped, tying a length of yarn around my right ankle. "To the very sole of thy foot." He secured the last piece of yarn around my left ankle.
I stood without moving as he rose and knotted a leather thong around my neck.
"From all who seek to bind thee, be thou protected!”
His final words tolled like bell. Aodhan clapped his hands together, the sound so loud I jumped a little.
And I felt…different. Not bad, not good. A little numb. There was a quick pang of loss, but it was distant and far away. Somewhat had changed, somewhat had shifted. It was as though a thick wall had sprung to life inside me; dividing me against myself, protecting me from myself. Behind it, I felt calm and peaceful.
He grinned at me. "Well, that's that, young Imriel. How do you feel?”
"All right," I said. "I'm not sure. Is that bad?”
"No, no." He shook his head. "Mind, you'll have to keep it up. If any of the threads fray, they'll need to be replaced by an ollamh. I reckon even a court bard can manage one of the old spells." He tapped whatever it was that hung at my throat, strung on the leather thong. "That's a croonie-stone. Don't take it off.”
"All right." I fingered it. A smooth stone, a hole in the center. Once again, a seal of protection hung around my neck; this one wrought by nature. At least this time I knew it was there, and why. "Is there aught else I should know?”
"Well, you might consider bargaining with the Old Ones. It's always worth a try." Aodhan took up the hazel-twig broom and busied himself with sweeping away the traces of his circle. He snorted. "And you might have a greater care where you spill your seed. Now get out of my way, will you?”
I moved. "How can I repay you for this, my lord?”
Aodhan glanced at me, then at Conor, sitting quiet and watchful. "The lad knows.”
I remembered what Conor had said about the Path of the Grove. "You want him to study with you.”
"The old ways, aye." Aodhan swept briskly. "It's in his blood.”
I looked from one to the other, marking a similarity in their brown skin, in the angle of their broad, high cheekbones, that transcended the disparity of age. Not Cruithne, not Dalriada. Other. I'd seen it last night by moonlight. "And yours?”
He smiled and didn't answer. "Go on, now! You've bothered me long enough.”
We went.
Chapter Twenty-Two
At dinner that night, I steeled myself and told the tale for a third time.
If I could have avoided it, I would have. But there was no way of explaining the lengths of red yarn knotted around my wrists, the pierced, sea-polished stone hanging at my throat. So I told it, leaving out the bit about the mannekin and spilled seed, and any mention of Conor's parentage. We'd agreed, he and I, to keep one another's secrets.
"Dagda Mor, Imri!" Eamonn exclaimed. "How do you manage to find trouble wherever you go?”
I smiled grimly. "Just lucky, I reckon.”
Joscelin looked thunderous. "This is not acceptable," he said quietly to Grainne, his tone all the more fearsome for its calm. "What do you mean to do about it?”
"Joscelin." His name emerged more sharply than I'd intended. I sighed. "I'm sorry. But I am not…without blame…in the matter. And Alban law is clear. As I am unharmed, there is little recourse." I raised my hands, displaying my yarn fetters. "Her Ladyship has provided good counsel nonetheless.”
"If anything happens to you—" he began.
"It won't." Conor, flushing, spoke up. "Master Aodhan is very wise.”
"Still," Phèdre murmured. "I am troubled." Her dark gaze rested on me, seeing things no one else saw. The scarlet mote of Kushiel's Dart floated on her left iris, a promise of things that never would be. It didn't seem to bother me as it used to. "What will you, love?”
I set my jaw. "I'll not flee, if that's what