Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [114]
How he had lost his humanity and saved his people The song ended, the last notes fading into a profound silence. Ferghus sat with head bowed, his cheek leaned against the uppermost curve of his harp. I thought about his song, weighing it against the account of the Tiberian historian Caledonius, and the tale Drustan mab Necthana had told me about a bear-cub raised on human flesh by a maddened magician of the Maghuin Dhonn.
I did not know where the truth lay.
"My lord, you play most beautifully." It was Phèdre's voice that broke the silence. Ferghus lifted his head and gazed at her. "And yet I am confused by your story.”
"How so?" he asked.
Phèdre rested her chin on her fist, contemplating him with lustrous eyes. " 'Twas Cinhil Ru of the Cruithne who united the tribes of Alba and drove the Tiberians from your soil. How is it, then, that the Maghuin Dhonn claim the credit?”
"Magic is a deep thing, lady, and the ways of gods are mysterious." Ferghus stroked the gleaming wood of his harp. "Cinhil Ru rallied the Four Folk of Alba by telling them false tales about bears fed on the flesh of babes. He told them the Maghuin Dhonn had gone mad, that the same fate would befall all of them if they did not stand together. And so they did." He showed his white teeth in a smile. "And afterward, once the Tiberians were gone, there came the Master of the Straits. For many, many years, Alba was protected.”
"Now that, surely, had naught to do with the Maghuin Dhonn," I said.
He turned his smile on me. It looked friendly, but the appearance was belied by the restless glitter of his eyes. "Who can say? All things are bound to one another, though the bindings are hidden to the eye. I am a skilled bard, but a poor magician.”
"Speaking of bindings …" I tapped the croonie-stone.
"Ah, yes." Ferghus set down his harp with care and drank the rest of the uisghe in his cup. " 'Twas wrought in fairness, Morwen's binding, on taisgaidh ground. Yet you claim insult for the lad's carelessness?" he asked Grainne.
"I do," she said. "It matters not where the charm was wrought. He was summoned against his will while he was a guest in my household. Will you have the world claim the Lady of the Dalriada cannot protect an honored guest in her own hall?" Grainne shook her head. "Indeed, I claim insult. But I am willing to forgive it in exchange for the mannekin trinket.”
Ferghus looked longingly at the uisghe jug. "Is that the whole of your offer?”
"Would you have me sweeten it?" She laughed. "Fine, take the jug.”
"I will." He reached across the table, snatching it agilely and setting it before him, then rose. After replacing his harp in its leather case, he slung the case over his shoulder. "I will take your offer to Morwen, and to Berlik, too. He will want a say in the matter." His voice changed. "Tell me, Grainne. What if they refuse? Will you break our long truce?”
His words hung in the air. Everyone looked to Grainne, who frowned. "So long as the lad is unharmed, I will not break our truce," she said slowly. "But so long as he is bound, the Old Ones will be unwelcome in my holdings.”
"Ah, lady!" Ferghus' gaze lingered on Conor. " 'Tis a hard answer.”
Grainne nodded. " 'Tis a hard question.”
"So be it." The harpist plucked the uisghe jug from the table. "I'll return ere too many days have passed.”
With that, he took his leave.
Chapter Twenty-Three
In the days following the harpist's visit, we spoke of little else.
I tried not to engage in the speculation, for I could see it troubled Conor, and I felt for the boy. He took to absenting himself to pay long visits to the ollamh Aodhan, which I thought was to the good. The ollamh had a foot in both worlds, and he would give the boy good counsel.
For my part, I was curious about the disparity between the history Drustan had related and the harpist's tale. I asked Dorelei for her thoughts, but she was reluctant to discuss it.
"Can you not leave it be, Imriel?"