Read Online Meri by Maya Kaathryn Bohnhoff - Free Book Online Page B

thought Wyth might have called to
her, but she didn’t stop. Home she ran, burning up her humiliation before it
burned her up.
    o0o
    “You must remove her, Bevol,” said Ealad-hach. He no
longer sat, but paced the chamber, rubbing his hands as if the aging joints
contained premonitions of inclement weather.
    “Why? Because one Prentice has fallen in love with her? She
is a lovable girl, Ealad.”
    “That she is a girl is precisely the problem. She shouldn’t
be here at all. She doesn’t belong here.”
    “Nonsense. Her natural talents alone make her a candidate
for Osraed-hood. Why else do you think I enrolled her at Halig-liath?”
    “Ah, to raise my ire. You have always been a changer-up,
Bevol.”
    “And you have always been a Trad—don’t look so shocked at
me, you old Scir-loc. Yes, and you deserve that appellation, too, by the Stone.
The Cyne may be set upon it, but you, old fellow, are set in it. And in your ways.”
    Ealad-hach bristled, notwithstanding the criticism was
delivered with wry humor. “Someone has got to be set, here, Bevol, for you are
like the wind.”
    “It is my namesake.”
    “More’s the pity. You blow this way and that and fail to see
the danger in this situation. Your girl is talented, aye. I’ve seen that. But
if you meant to do her a favor by encouraging her, you’ve erred grievously. If
one of my daughters had shown such a nature, I’d have schooled her in how to
tame it. For what is praiseworthy in a man is sinful in a woman.”
    “Tradist nonsense,” observed Bevol.
    “A rational view of the Scripture,” countered Ealad-hach.
    “The Scripture does not once refer to the Prentice as ‘she.’”
    “‘He’ is merely the common pronoun. Would you rather the
Prentice be referred to as ‘it?’”
    Ealad-hach pointed a long finger at Bevol. “This is not a
humorous matter, brother. Your girl is drawing censure from every quarter. The
Moireach Arundel is not the only parent who has expressed displeasure at
Meredydd’s presence here.”
    “And are we to be swayed by public opinion, then?” Osraed
Calach, who had been watching the verbal duel in total silence, finally spoke
up. “I had rather thought we were intended to shape it.”
    Bevol nodded. “Your scriptural argument was much better.”
    “Then I shall return to it. There is no scripture that makes
a place for a woman in the Art.”
    “And there is no scripture that denies her one.”
    “Brother, a man with the Art is Osraed. A woman with the art
is Wicke. It is as clear as that. Our histories show the evil that comes of
allowing cailin to pursue those talents which, I grant you, they may perversely
display from time to time. When the Wicke were driven from Creiddylad in the
reign of Liusadhe, their wickedness, when set loose in the land, drove the Sea
to a boil and the Meri to a change of aspect. Because of those embittered
women, entire villages were lost to the waves and Creiddylad was swept by
plague.”
    “If you choose to interpret it that way....”
    “In what other way can it be interpreted?” demanded
Ealad-hach.
    Bevol shrugged. “Perhaps the Meri was enraged with Cyne
Liusadhe for expelling the Wicke in the first place and the plague occurred
because they weren’t there to stop it.”
    Ealad-hach fixed him with a baleful glare. “You come so
close to blasphemy at times, Bevol, I wonder you ever became Osraed.”
    “And you come so close to stagnation at times, I wonder you
continue to be ambulatory. Meredydd stays.”
    “She will cost us, Bevol.”
    “She stays.”
    “She is Wicke, Bevol. You know it.”
    “She is a cailin. Sweetly rebellious, intelligent and
strong. She has a good heart. She would make a splendid Osraed. You,” he added,
pointing at Ealad-hach’s razor beak, “should be thankful we have her here at
Halig-liath.”
    Frustrated, Ealad-hach turned to Calach. “What do you think?
Do you side with me or with Bevol?”
    Calach’s pale brows crept beneath his fringe of