‘You just prefer me to pretend I have no father, is that it?’ These words were out before I could stop them, before I could veil the anger in my voice. How dare they? How dare they ask me to deny my strong, clever, wise father, who had been everything to me?
‘This hurts you,’ said Conor. ‘He was a youth of outstanding qualities. No doubt he became a man to be proud of. We understand that. Niamh and Ciarán were young. They made a mistake, and they paid for it dearly. There is no need for you to pay as well.’
‘This can be handled with no need for lies.’ It appeared that Sean had already made the decision. ‘We can simply provide folk with as much of the truth as suits our purpose. There is no reason why Niamh should not have wed again after her husband’s death. We will let it be known that your father was a druid of good family. We will say that Niamh bore her daughter in the south, some time after Fionn’s untimely passing. You are now returned to your rightful home and the protection of your family. That must be explanation enough. Few people outside the nemetons knew of Ciarán’s existence, let alone his true identity. As for our guests of the alliance, we will not draw undue attention to your presence while they are in the house. Eamonn could be a problem.’
‘A pity Liadan is not here,’ observed Conor.
‘We’ll need to let her know,’ Sean said. ‘I’ll do that. You look weary, niece. Perhaps you should ride with me the last part of the way.’
‘I’m fine,’ I said, gritting my teeth. It was asking a lot: that I go into some dank, dreary place where endless trees blocked out the west wind, deny my father, let some girl tell me what to do and be my watchdog, and take care not to draw attention to myself, all because of their precious alliance. It was becoming rapidly apparent to me that I would have to listen hard and learn quickly if I were to have any chance of achieving the task my grandmother had set me. The men of Sevenwaters were clever and confident; these two would be formidable opponents, and there might well be more like them when we got there. Who was Eamonn? Why would he be a problem? My father had never mentioned such a person. I would find out. And for now I would play Uncle Sean’s game. But inside me, I would never forget whose daughter I was. Never.
We crossed a lot of streams gurgling downhill under the trees. Then we came out from under a stand of willows, and before us there opened a great, shimmering expanse of water, its surface clear and light in the sun and dotted with little islets and the forms of drifting birds: geese, ducks, perfect white swans. We halted.
‘The lake of Sevenwaters,’ said Sean softly. ‘Our keep is on the far side, to the east. The track is easy from here. You’re doing well, Fainne.’
I took a deep breath and tried to ease my aching back. I was glad to see the water; to be free of that endless prison of trees closing in around me. The lake was very beautiful, with its pearly sheen, its wide surface open to the sky, its little quiet coves and its unseen, secret life.
‘Seven streams flow into the lake,’ said Conor. ‘They are its lifeblood. There is only one way out; the river that flows north and then eastwards to the great water. The lake nourishes the forest. The forest guards the folk of Sevenwaters, and it is their sacred charge to defend and protect it and all the mysteries it holds. This you will come to know in time.’
‘Maybe,’ I said. And maybe, I thought, you will come to know that all is not as it seems; that for some, the path does not always lead to light and order. You may learn that life can be cruel and unjust.
‘You could let her go now,’ said Conor.
‘What?’
‘You could let her go now. The owl. See how she looks out and turns her head skywards. She’s ready to go back.’
I stared at him, mute, and the small owl climbed out of my pocket to perch, teetering a little, on the back of the horse’s neck. The bird was somewhat steadier now, for I had tended it carefully enough. But this was no Aoife. The horse shuddered and shied, and I gripped its mane and clung on to keep from being thrown. In an instant my uncle Sean had the creature’s bridle in his hand and was holding her still, with calming words.
‘What is that?’ he asked, in a tone reminiscent of Darragh’s.
As for Conor, he sat there silent. Having stirred up trouble, he now left me to deal with it.
‘It was captive. I – traded for it. That was all. It wouldn’t fly away.’
‘I have never seen an owl so small, yet fully grown. There’s some magic in this, surely.’ Sean’s tone was quite matter-of-fact. I should not, I suppose, have been surprised at that, for this was Sevenwaters, a place where old mysteries were kept safe.
‘She won’t go until it’s undone,’ Conor said, moving his horse closer. ‘Shall I?’ He reached out a hand and passed it gently over the tiny creature, and immediately the bird was itself again: still small, still somewhat bedraggled, but owl-size, and strong enough to make its own way in the woods. Sean was having difficulty controlling the wild-eyed horse.
‘Go safe now,’ said Conor, and obediently the creature spread its tattered wings and flew, with never a sound, with never a look back; up, up into the tree tops, and away into the shadowy embrace of the forest. I said not a word.
‘You did well, bringing her home.’ Conor’s tone was tranquil.
‘I didn’t bring her,’ I said rather crossly. ‘She gave me no choice.’
‘There’s always a choice,’ said the druid.
There were altogether too many of them. Girls everywhere: spilling down the steps of the stone keep where at last we ended our journey, bigger girls tugging at their father’s hands, chattering and laughing as their mother came out to greet me, tiny girls running about and teasing the huge dogs.
‘Enough, daughters,’ said Sean with a smile, and in an instant they disappeared, as obedient as they were exuberant. I had not been able to count, they were so quick. Five? Six?
‘I’m your Aunt Aisling,’ said the slight, rather severe-looking woman who stood on the steps. A neat veil kept her red hair in place, and her freckled face was intent and serious. ‘You’re very welcome here, as no doubt my husband has told you. It’s a busy time. We have many guests in the house. Muirrin will look after you.’
‘Where is Muirrin?’ enquired my uncle as we made our way inside. The horses had been quickly led away. As for Conor, he had quite simply vanished. Perhaps the bevy of little girls had been too much for him.
‘We’ll find her,’ said my aunt in capable tones. ‘You’d best get back to the Council. They’re waiting for you.’
‘The representative from Inis Eala should be here today,’ my uncle said. ‘Perhaps we can conclude this on time after all.’ He turned to me. ‘I’ll leave you now, niece. That was a long ride for a novice. You’d best rest those aching limbs. Muirrin should have a potion or two that will help. Perhaps we’ll meet again at supper.’
They seemed to think Muirrin was the answer to everything. I formed an image of her in my mind that was completely at odds with the girl we tracked down some time later, at work in a very small, rather dark room at the back of the house.
The first thing I noticed was how tiny she was; little and slender, with big green eyes, and her father’s dark curls tied roughly back from her face, to keep them from her work. She was chopping up what looked like toadstools, with a rather large, dangerous-looking knife. She was concentrating hard and humming under her breath. Around her were shelves crammed with jars and bottles; bunches of drying flowers and herbs hung overhead, and a plait of garlic festooned the window. Behind her a door stood open to a little garden.
‘Muirrin,’ said her mother, with just a touch