Read Online Twixt Firelight and Water by Juliet Marillier - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Juliet Marillier
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‘It seemed too much to ask. As you can see, he himself has mixed feelings on the matter.’
‘Can you ... can you communicate with Conri?’
‘You mean speaking mind to mind, without words? Alas, no. We have an understanding; it has developed over the years and has served us well enough. But I cannot ask him what he wants, Aisha. I can only use my own judgement. He needs to do this. And I want it done. He’s my brother, and I owe him. I cannot put it more simply than that.’
‘Then why now and not before? If it seemed too much to ask those other women, why is it all right to ask me?’
Ciarán regarded me with his dark mulberry eyes. ‘You seem ... formidable,’ he said quietly. ‘A woman travelling all alone with perfect confidence; a woman of wit and intelligence, balance and integrity. Strong; brave; whole. If anyone can do this, I believe you can.’
‘You don’t even know me.’
His lips curved. ‘You think not? We’ve exchanged many tales as we walked, Aisha. We’ve passed through the forest of Sevenwaters together. Besides, I am the son of a sorceress; I have abilities beyond the strictly human. I believe my assessment of you is accurate. If I did not, I would never have suggested this course of action. Would I trust my brother’s future to a woman who was doomed to fail?’
The situation was nothing short of ridiculous. I considered the possibility that Ciarán was actually completely mad, one of those wild men who are supposed to wander about the woods and commune with the trees, and that the next thing he might do was strangle me or have his way with me, or both.
‘Why do you smile?’ he asked.
‘I’m wondering what he’s like now,’ I said. ‘Conri. In the vision he was just a lad, barely become a man. He hadn’t even —’ I broke off as a new thought struck me. Conri had been transformed into a raven on his wedding day. If I did what Ciarán wanted, I’d be acquiring a husband who was not only elderly, but also inexperienced in the art of love. The prospect hadn’t much to recommend it. ‘There would be rather a large gap between our ages,’ I said. My mind quashed this objection instantly with an image of Father and Mercedes dancing together by lantern light. Tenderness. Passion. Complete understanding. A pang of some hitherto unknown emotion went through my heart. Longing? Yearning? That was crazy. My life was a good one, a complete one. I did not need this complication.
‘He was a goodlooking boy,’ Ciarán said. ‘He’s likely to be a well-made man. And he is the same kind as I am: my half-brother. I expect that in physical appearance Conri will seem no older than five and thirty.’
‘And he’ll come complete with an ill temper and a load of bitterness on his shoulders.’
‘It’s not as if there’s been no cause for that,’ said Ciarán mildly. ‘And once he is a man again, it may change. You could change it, Aisha.’
‘And if I can’t bear the fellow?’
‘A hand-fasting can be made for a finite period. A year and a day. Five summers. Whatever is deemed appropriate.’ After a moment, Ciarán added, ‘I must be quite honest with you. To be sure of meeting the requirements of a geis, one might need to make permanent vows.’
‘I need time. Time to think.’ By all the saints. Was I actually considering this? What had got into me?
‘Of course.’ Ciarán looked as if he’d be quite content to sit here by the fire all night if necessary. ‘You’ll be tired,’ he added. ‘Take all the time you need. He’s waited many years; a little longer can make no difference.’
A little longer. Or much, much longer. If I said no, Conri might be condemned to stay in bird form more or less indefinitely. The raven seemed bitter and warped. What would he be like in another twenty years? I began to realise what a patient man Ciarán was. A good brother. They both were.
‘You may prefer
‘Can you ... can you communicate with Conri?’
‘You mean speaking mind to mind, without words? Alas, no. We have an understanding; it has developed over the years and has served us well enough. But I cannot ask him what he wants, Aisha. I can only use my own judgement. He needs to do this. And I want it done. He’s my brother, and I owe him. I cannot put it more simply than that.’
‘Then why now and not before? If it seemed too much to ask those other women, why is it all right to ask me?’
Ciarán regarded me with his dark mulberry eyes. ‘You seem ... formidable,’ he said quietly. ‘A woman travelling all alone with perfect confidence; a woman of wit and intelligence, balance and integrity. Strong; brave; whole. If anyone can do this, I believe you can.’
‘You don’t even know me.’
His lips curved. ‘You think not? We’ve exchanged many tales as we walked, Aisha. We’ve passed through the forest of Sevenwaters together. Besides, I am the son of a sorceress; I have abilities beyond the strictly human. I believe my assessment of you is accurate. If I did not, I would never have suggested this course of action. Would I trust my brother’s future to a woman who was doomed to fail?’
The situation was nothing short of ridiculous. I considered the possibility that Ciarán was actually completely mad, one of those wild men who are supposed to wander about the woods and commune with the trees, and that the next thing he might do was strangle me or have his way with me, or both.
‘Why do you smile?’ he asked.
‘I’m wondering what he’s like now,’ I said. ‘Conri. In the vision he was just a lad, barely become a man. He hadn’t even —’ I broke off as a new thought struck me. Conri had been transformed into a raven on his wedding day. If I did what Ciarán wanted, I’d be acquiring a husband who was not only elderly, but also inexperienced in the art of love. The prospect hadn’t much to recommend it. ‘There would be rather a large gap between our ages,’ I said. My mind quashed this objection instantly with an image of Father and Mercedes dancing together by lantern light. Tenderness. Passion. Complete understanding. A pang of some hitherto unknown emotion went through my heart. Longing? Yearning? That was crazy. My life was a good one, a complete one. I did not need this complication.
‘He was a goodlooking boy,’ Ciarán said. ‘He’s likely to be a well-made man. And he is the same kind as I am: my half-brother. I expect that in physical appearance Conri will seem no older than five and thirty.’
‘And he’ll come complete with an ill temper and a load of bitterness on his shoulders.’
‘It’s not as if there’s been no cause for that,’ said Ciarán mildly. ‘And once he is a man again, it may change. You could change it, Aisha.’
‘And if I can’t bear the fellow?’
‘A hand-fasting can be made for a finite period. A year and a day. Five summers. Whatever is deemed appropriate.’ After a moment, Ciarán added, ‘I must be quite honest with you. To be sure of meeting the requirements of a geis, one might need to make permanent vows.’
‘I need time. Time to think.’ By all the saints. Was I actually considering this? What had got into me?
‘Of course.’ Ciarán looked as if he’d be quite content to sit here by the fire all night if necessary. ‘You’ll be tired,’ he added. ‘Take all the time you need. He’s waited many years; a little longer can make no difference.’
A little longer. Or much, much longer. If I said no, Conri might be condemned to stay in bird form more or less indefinitely. The raven seemed bitter and warped. What would he be like in another twenty years? I began to realise what a patient man Ciarán was. A good brother. They both were.
‘You may prefer