Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [99]
The air took on a tang of salt. Gulls circled with raucous cries.
From atop a grassy rise, we beheld the land spread below. Innisclan, the vast hall and scattered outlying holdings, the mill and the smithy, the grazing cattle. And beyond, the sea, grey and shining in the afternoon sunlight.
Phèdre reached for Joscelin's hand. "Oh, love! 'Tis the same!”
"So it is." He smiled at her. "Do you remember …?”
She flushed. "All too well.”
The whole of Innisclan turned out to meet us. I would have known Eamonn's mother anywhere. The Lady Grainne of the Dalriada was tall and imposing. Strands of grey dimmed the fire of her red-gold hair and there were lines on her strong face, but her eyes crinkled like her son's when she smiled.
Eamonn greeted his mother with a sweeping bow, then straightened to receive her embrace, grinning with delight. He introduced Brigitta to her. After that, there was a good deal of exuberant shouting and hugging as various siblings came forward, and then at last, the rest of us were presented.
As Ysandre's delegate, Phèdre made a graceful speech regarding the tribute we'd brought. The Lady Grainne listened to it with a look of amusement.
"Books!" Her grey-green eyes crinkled. "You always do bring interesting gifts, Phèdre nó Delaunay.”
Phèdre smiled. "This was Eamonn's choice.”
"We mean to start an academy," he told his mother. "Brigitta and I.”
She raised red-gold brows. "Very interesting.”
While the Lady's eldest son Brennan took charge of the tribute-wagons and oversaw the unloading and storage of their cargo and accommodations for our escort, we were ushered into the hall of Innisclan, where a welcoming feast was being laid on the great table. It was a vast space, most of it given over to the hall. As honored guests, we were accorded private chambers; small stone cells scarce large enough to hold a narrow bed.
"It's tiny," I whispered to Dorelei.
"Hush." She pressed a finger to my lips. "This isn't Terre d'Ange.”
As soon as we'd had a chance to wash our hands and faces and change our travel-stained attire, we were summoned to eat. It was a lengthy affair, and a noisy one, too. The Lady's children talked over one another, eager to hear of Eamonn's doings and share their own. During the course of the meal, I managed to sort them out. Brennan was the oldest, his mother's heir. After Eamonn and Mairead came another sister, Caolinn, and then Conor, the youngest at some fifteen years.
Save for Conor, they were all cut from the same cloth, tall and redheaded. He was the quiet, odd one of the lot, with thick black hair and dark, thoughtful eyes out of which he kept stealing covert, fascinated glances at Phèdre. I remembered Eamonn telling me that, except for his sisters, none of them had the same father. As for those fathers, none were in evidence.
Seeing his siblings all together, I could understand better why the Lady Grainne had been sanguine about permitting her second-oldest to wander the earth, footloose and unfettered. There did seem to be an awful lot of them.
Once the meal was finished and the storytelling began, they fell silent, though. Everyone sat rapt while Eamonn related the tale of his courtship of Brigitta. Partway through, Conor rose quietly to retrieve a lap-harp. He held it throughout the telling, head bowed, fingers moving over the strings without touching them.
When it was over, Caolinn sighed. "That's so romantic!”
"Why?" Mairead shrugged. "He did a lot of chores, that's all. There's naught romantic in chopping wood and hauling water.”
"For love's sake? Of course there is." Her sister turned to Conor. "You think so, don't you?”
Head still bowed, he nodded. "I do.”
"Will you make a song about it, little brother?" Brennan asked with a smile. "He's very good, you know," he said to the rest of us. "He can play any tune he's ever heard, perfect to the note. One of the old bards born anew, like as not.”
Conor's averted cheek flushed. "Go on!”
"Will you play for us, Conor?" Phèdre asked. "I'd love to hear you.