Read Online Foxmask by Juliet Marillier - Free Book Online Page A

making it all perfect for just that purpose. Seeing the look on Brona’s face, Creidhe knew her sister’s determination. It was going to be Brona lying under those fine woolen blankets, cooking a hearty meal for her man’s return and providing a bouncing baby boy for the new cradle, and not any other girl on the islands.
    So Creidhe promised, and did not say perhaps a fisherman was not the right father for a king, however pleasant a fellow he might happen to be. And in return Brona gave her word to keep quiet for a certain length of time, long enough so it would be too late for someone to take a boat and set off in pursuit with any likelihood of finding the
Sea Dove
in open water. After that, Brona would tell Nessa and Eyvind what Creidhe had instructed her to tell, a task that would demand no little courage. Creidhe knew the bargain was unfair. Though Brona wouldn’t believe it, she’d never wanted Sam for herself. She liked him, everyone did, but Creidhe could never put another man before Thorvald. It was as simple as that. A pity Sam himself didn’t see it the same way; he was coming across the room toward her with a purposeful tread now, and there was a certain look in his steady blue eyes that worried her. Brona was down the other end with a group of girls. Brona was watching.
    â€œWill you dance, Creidhe?” Sam asked politely, sketching a little bow that, from another man, would have looked ridiculous. Sam had a natural dignity and could get away with it. Creidhe took his hand and they moved into the circle. Brona was frowning. This was not part of any bargain.
    The music struck up again, and the circle began to move this way and that, hands clasped, feet light or not-so-light in the steps of a chain dance. There was a lot of noise, folk chattering, whistles and drum in lively discourse, boots stamping on the earthen floor.
    â€œYou’re looking well, Creidhe,” Sam yelled above the general din.
    â€œYou, too,” Creidhe shouted back. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”
    â€œI like a good party.” Sam grinned as the circle broke into couples and began a weaving in-and-out motion.
    â€œA late night,” Creidhe observed, “if you have to take the boat out at dawn, or before.”
    â€œAh, well,” said Sam, whirling her around in a circle rather faster than the other men were doing with their partners, “I might take a day off, work on the cottage.”
    Creidhe nodded. She needed to ask just the right questions, not to sound too inquisitive. “Will you be coming again tomorrow night? Grim says there will be games; I don’t know what kind.”
    Sam drew her adroitly back into the circle. Now Brona was on his other side, partnered by young Hakon, Grim’s son. Sam winked, and a delicate blush rose to Brona’s cheeks. Sam turned back to Creidhe.
    â€œGames, is it? Well, I suppose I’ll miss those. Going on a bit of a trip; I may be away a few days, perhaps longer. Up north. No late night for me tomorrow; heading off at sunup next day.”
    â€œOh?” Creidhe said lightly, though her heart was thudding with excitement; it had been easy, after all—he’d come right out with the information she needed. Only another day to wait, and then she would creep out while the games were on, and . . .
    The pattern of the dance changed again, and she found herself with a tongue-tied farmhand while, behind her, Sam danced with Brona. A glance over her shoulder showed her the two of them were not talking at all; indeed, her normally voluble sister appeared quite lost for words, though Brona cut a graceful figure as she moved to the music, her large gray eyes fixed on her partner’s with a sweetly solemn expression. Brona’s pale complexion was still touched with pink in the cheeks. At least Sam was looking at her. It was a start. The unfortunate part of it was that Brona did not quite comprehend Sam’s role