Read Online Blade of Fortriu by Juliet Marillier - Free Book Online Page B

on Broichan’s doorstep at Pitnochie in the middle of winter. And she wanted to know. Certainly, she had made a decision not to employ her magical talents of scrying and transformation, of conversation with the creatures of the forest, of conjuring light and shadow. When such sources of information had provided answers in the past, they had often been cryptic,difficult ones, more like further questions. That did not mean she felt no urge to employ her arts; but she would not use them. She knew how perilous a path a woman of the Good Folk trod as queen of Fortriu. There would always be those who sought to undermine Bridei’s authority, and she was determined they would not employ her as a tool. That did not stop her from needing the truth, a truthher son, in his turn, would want to hear when he was grown.
    Tuala did not speak of this, not even to Bridei. She whispered it in her prayers sometimes, thinking the Shining One might help her, for this goddess had ever looked on her with kindness. So far the Shining One had provided no revelations. As for the two strange beings who had teased and cajoled Tuala, bullied and tested her, the girlGossamer with her fey eyes and floating garments and the youth Woodbine of the nut-brown skin and ivy-wreathing locks, they had never come back. As soon as Tuala had made her choice to be human, to live in this world, the two of them had vanished as if they had never been. At times, Tuala wondered if the whole strange sequence of events had been a kind of crazy dream.
    It was early afternoon,and Derelei would be in the garden playing in the care of one of the young serving women. Instructions complete, Mara had more or less shooed Tuala away, as if she were five years old again and a queen only in her own imagination. Mara had changed little since the early days; she preferred to be in sole charge and did her job with dour efficiency. Mara was quite undaunted by the responsibility ofa royal household many times bigger than the one she managed at Pitnochie. Already she had folk scampering in all directions to fetch fresh rushes, scour floors, brush down high cobwebs, and hang blankets to air.
    Tuala walked through the hallways of White Hill, past the closed door of the room where Bridei was in consultation with his chieftains. They were preparing for the arrival of the delegationfrom the southern kingdom of Circinn, always a challenge and, under the current delicate circumstances, this time a particular test. She made her way out along a flagged path between patches of grass and beds of gray-leaved herbs, wormwood, chamomile, lavender. There were stone benches here, positioned to catch the afternoon sunshine, and little figures of gods and creatures were set aboutpools and in niches in the stone wall that surrounded the garden, sheltering it from the fierce northerly winds. It was a place of repose. Ana had liked it; she had spent many happy times here chatting to Tuala, playing with Derelei, doing her delicate embroidery. Tuala missed her. She wondered how far Ana had traveled on her journey by now, and what she was making of it. Perhaps they were alreadyat Briar Wood. Maybe Alpin would be a kind man, a man like Bridei. Ana had wept when she said good-bye, despite her obvious efforts at control. For all her understanding of duty, she had been sad and frightened. Tuala knew how that felt. She wished with all her heart that it had not been necessary to do it so quickly; so cruelly. But it was necessary. It was vital. Alpin must be won over beforeBridei’s forces went into action against the Gaels of Dalriada. And, contrary to the word that was being put about, that would not be happening next spring. The council would not be at Gathering, but at the feast of Rising, when spring turned to summer. The men of Fortriu would move in autumn, two seasons earlier than their enemies anticipated. They would surge westward in great numbers; by the timeGabhran of Dalriada received word of their advance, it