Chapter 7
After Ionáin was pulled away from her, éadha stood for a moment, then turned and began pushing her way through the tightly packed crowd.
It was all too much: the relentless noise, the swirling lights, the ceaseless cheering from the hundred or so noble guests in the Great Hall.
She couldn’t think; she needed to think.
Pushing and straining, she managed to reach the dragonglass tunnel, stumbling and almost falling as she finally broke free of the crowd.
On down the tunnel and into the kitchen she fled.
“Hush now, we always knew this time’d come to an end,” Béithe was saying to one of the maidservants. The girl’s eyes were red, as if she’d been weeping. “At least it’s not Lord Huath. And we’ll endure as we always have, Sister save us.”
“Sister save us” came the quiet reply, and something in the way they spoke caught at éadha even as she hurried past, almost like they were praying. But there was no time to wonder what it might mean, and she kept going, on out into the night air.
It was as cold and quiet as she’d imagined when she’d stood in Ionáin’s arms, the shock of the night’s chill enveloping her, but she was alone beneath the silent sky.
Inside, her mind was filling with panicky images: of Ionáin traveling to Lambay, being surrounded by gray-robed Masters asking him to use the gift they all thought he had.
Of the look on Ionáin’s face when he inevitably failed.
Stumbling a little, she forced herself into a run, as if she could outrun her thoughts.
On out of the courtyard, into the gardens, past the silvered yews and the moon-shadowed lake until she reached the oak tree.
Now she could no longer hear the sound of the party; it was only herself beneath the oak branches.
Sitting with her back against the trunk, she forced herself to breathe.
In, out, while her heart rate gradually slowed and her mind went back to the flashing moment on the dais when she’d unleashed all that pent-up power and sent it pouring into Ionáin.
And even in the heart of her shame, she still felt the subterranean joy of it, the sense of release when she’d reached inside herself as Magret had taught her.
But what she’d found hadn’t been the weak, fragile spark Magret had spoken of.
It’d been something far greater, as if, in her desperation, she’d uncovered instead a great hidden well of power fathoms deep inside her.
Staring down at her hands, she tried to focus, reaching inside herself to try to find again that secret well of power.
But her gift made a liar of her as her hand remained stubbornly empty while she tried and she failed, and failed again, to come by the trick of it, to find again the door to power she’d opened in her heart.
Forcing down a mounting sense of panic and frustration, she tilted her head back and stared up through the still-bare oak branches, at the Sídhe burning brightly far above her.
She remembered how, when they were little, she and Ionáin used to plan their great adventures across the Steps and into the Blackstairs.
How they’d navigate their way by those same stars that shone above her now.
He was her heart, she thought. He’d always been her heart, and it was his need that’d let her find that well of power inside her.
Closing her eyes, she focused once more, this time, though, on the sense of absolute need she’d felt in that moment on the stage.
And then there—there it was. In front of her, on her outstretched palm, a tiny were-light flaring into life.
A light drawn not from any thread but from inside herself.
She’d found it, the way back down to draw on her own heart’s strength.
She opened her eyes and stared for a long time at the little light, bobbing and dancing on her palm, bowing to its sister stars above. And she knew now what she had to do.
“Let all those who have passed the age of seventeen come forward for their Reckoning.”
It was almost noon of the following day. Lord Huath sat in a red velvet cloak and leather gloves in the center of the muddy village square, the cloak’s gold lining gleaming in watery sunshine just breaking through after early-morning rain.
In front of him stood a group of ten seventeen-year-olds, éadha among them.
They were mostly from the village, with a couple like her, from the Keep.
She was the youngest. She knew them all to see, though she wasn’t close to any of them.
Ionáin and her own company had been all she’d ever looked for.
She hadn’t slept all night and was glassy-eyed with exhaustion, but as she stood there waiting for her turn, she felt no fear, only calm certainty.
It was, she thought, like preparing a house before visitors arrive.
Hiding away all your private things, arranging it carefully to give the right impression.
Inside her mind, just as Magret had taught her, she’d packed away all thoughts of her full channeling gift behind a thought-wall woven of her memories and fired by her own heart’s will.
Glancing across the square she saw Magret standing with Lord Huath’s party.
Treasa, Huath’s Keeper, stood beside her.
But there was no sign of Ionáin. A chill wormed its way into éadha’s thoughts.
This wasn’t like him, not to come and support her.
Surely he’d come riding up at the last moment.
But he didn’t come, and now it was too late, as Huath began the Reckonings.
He kept his gloves on, raising his hands with a bored expression as each young person was presented to him.
Each of them flinched with shock when he stepped into their minds, some starting to cry and others trying to squirm free.
Each time he waved them away after a moment’s focus.
The square was so still, the nervous coughing and shuffling of those still waiting could be clearly heard while from outside the square, birdsong flowed into the silence.
It was almost éadha’s turn. She saw Magret push her way to the front of the group for a clear line of sight.
Now it was her turn. She stepped forward and saw recognition in Huath’s eyes. “You live with my sister’s seamstress, yes? Ionáin’s little playmate?”
“Yes, Lord Huath, may it please you,” she replied dutifully, keeping her eyes low and her voice monotonous.
Even so, she sensed a flicker of something, some straightening as if Huath was bringing his energies into full focus.
éadha braced herself, and there he was, stepping fast and hard into her head.
This was no cursory examination. Huath was far, far stronger than Magret, the scale of his power almost enough to unbalance her.
But she steadied herself, and there it was, so carefully laid out right in the center of her mind for Huath to find.
Just enough of her gift and not too much.
She could feel Huath weighing it, then for just a moment, she felt him pull back and sweep all through her mind, but she’d prepared for this and held steady.
He flickered across the careful domesticity of her thought-wall, with its images of milking goats (Nice touch, she thought) and her humble awe at his power on Reckoning Day.
As quickly he was gone, out of her mind, dropping his hands.
She allowed herself the tiniest release of breath as he called across to his party.
“Treasa, it seems we’ve not entirely wasted our morning here.
We’ve one of your kind here, a Keeper. Not bad strength, either.
” Huath glanced down at éadha. “Well, girl, it seems you’ll remain at my nephew’s side a while longer.
Congratulations. In the name of the Masters of Lambay, I hereby requisition you as one gifted in Keeping, to report to Lambay to be trained as a Keeper and assigned to a Channeller, fate willing.
Report to Lord Ailm’s quartermaster at the Keep; he’ll provide you with a mount. We depart for Lambay in the morning.”
She turned to face the crowd. She’d been the last to be tested, and people had already begun to disperse.
She saw them standing in knots on the edge of the square and looking back from up the lanes as word spread outward that Lord Huath had declared her a Keeper.
She didn’t know what reaction she’d expected, but it hadn’t been this.
Muted, serious men and women she’d known all her life looking at her and then looking away.
As Huath rejoined his party, éadha was left standing alone in the center of the square until at last Magret came over and embraced her carefully, like some fragile thing that might break if she was roughly handled.
“You did your best, child, don’t blame yourself. Huath was just too powerful. At least he didn’t find your full gift. He believes you’re only a Keeper,” Magret whispered quickly in her ear before turning to Lord Huath.
“My lord, if I might. I’ll bring her home and ensure she’s readied for the journey.”
Huath nodded in Magret’s direction, already losing interest. “See that you do.”