The Forbidden Land (13 page)

His frown deepened, his mouth compressing. Finn would have said something more but Lachlan claimed her attention again, gesturing sternly to Brangaine and Ashlin hovering behind her.

‘Who are these people?’ he cried. ‘Dide? What are ye doing bringing strangers to our conference? After all our efforts to keep our meeting secret!’

Brangaine dropped into a deep, graceful curtsy. ‘I am Brangaine NicSian, the banprionnsa o’ Siantan, Your Highness. We met at the last Lammas Conference when ye ratified me lady o’ the MacSian clan and ruler o’ Siantan.’ There was a touch of hauteur in her voice.

‘Aye, I remember ye now,’ he answered, his voice still angry. ‘Wha’ do ye do here, o’ all places?’

‘She is my cousin,’ Finn said rather sulkily. ‘She insisted on coming too.’ She turned to Brangaine. ‘I told ye he would no’ like it.’

‘But I do no’ understand,’ Lachlan cried, appealing to Dide. ‘Did ye no’ understand the utmost importance o’ keeping Finn’s presence here secret? What is she doing accompanied by her cousin? And who is he? Her brother?’

‘Her piper,’ Dide replied with gloomy satisfaction.

Lachlan’s wings flared wide in irritation. ‘I suppose ye will be telling me next that she brought her handmaid and her lap-dog too?’

‘Nay, though she did bring her gillie and her lap-cat,’ Dide replied, enjoyment evident in his voice.

Lachlan’s face was dark with anger, his jaw set grimly. ‘Explain!’ he snapped.

‘It is no’ my fault, master,’ Dide replied rather defensively, though there was still a quiver of laughter in his voice. ‘We told Lady Gwyneth that Finn’s journey mun be kept mumchance! Yet when Finn came to join us she had all these others wi’ her, and said her mother would no’ let her come without them. Castle Rurach was under siege from the Fairgean so we could no’ send them back. Besides, the damage was done. I thought it best to bring them wi’ us than have them wandering around the countryside, causing talk.’

‘Finn, ye surprise me,’ Iseult said. ‘I had thought ye a seasoned veteran. Did Enit no’ explain to ye how important it was that none kent ye came to serve us?’

‘I told my mother that ye would no’ like it, but she said if Brangaine did not come, neither could I!’

‘Ye mun remember Gwyneth NicSian is a lady o’ the auld school,’ Dide said soothingly. ‘She could no more send her daughter off unattended wi’ a pack o’ dirty jongleurs than she could brush her own hair. Besides, it may no’ be so bad. They say the young NicSian has the Talent and ye ken that could come in useful on the high seas!’

Lachlan stared at Brangaine intently. ‘Is this true?’ he asked abruptly. ‘Ye can whistle the wind?’

Brangaine coloured hotly. ‘I have some Skill,’ she answered stiffly. ‘Ye must remember though that the Tower o’ Storm is no more. I have no’ been properly trained.’

‘Can ye ride the storm?’

Her colour deepened, her eyes falling. ‘Well, no.’

Lachlan paced the floor restlessly. ‘Look at her,’ he said to Iseult. ‘She’s as bonny a lass as ye’ll ever see crowned May Queen. We canna be letting her step foot on that ship. Ye ken how superstitious sailors are, and the Tìrsoilleirean sailors more than most. There’d be naught but trouble if she goes.’

Finn’s eyes were bright with curiosity.
Tìrsoilleirean sailors?

‘And I think the piper lad should stay as well. He’s skinny as a broom and has no more hair on his chin than a newborn babe.’

To Finn’s surprise, Ashlin came forward in a rush to kneel at Lachlan’s feet ‘Nay, Your Highness, I mun stay with my lady!’ he cried. ‘My laird entrusted her to my care.’

Iseult looked at him curiously then bent and offered him one of her strong white hands. He grasped it, his face distraught, and she pulled him to his feet.

‘It is a dark and dangerous journey indeed that Finn sets out on,’ Lachlan said sternly. ‘She needs witches and warriors about her to protect her, no’ a boy with his hands full o’ bagpipes. Would ye endanger her by going?’

Ashlin was white but he stood his ground. ‘My laird set me to guard her and protect her,’ he answered unsteadily. ‘I swore a sacred oath.’

Jay stepped forward. ‘He has a talent with music,’ he said. ‘Indeed, Your Highness, ye should hear him play the bagpipes. He can bring a choke to your throat and a march to your step. He plays the flute as well, as prettily as I’ve heard. Happen we shall need every scrap o’ musical talent that we can get.’

Finn looked from one face to another. Matters were growing more mysterious by the minute. What good could playing the bagpipes do?

Lachlan was frowning, one hand caressing the Lodestar which glowed softly in response. Iseult laid her hand on his arm. ‘Such loyalty should no’ go unrewarded,’ she said.

‘The Lodestar sings his praises,’ Lachlan said abruptly. ‘Who am I to stop a man from travelling his own road? Nay, the piper may go if he so desires, though indeed my heart misgives me. I had wanted to keep the party as small as possible.’

Finn noted wryly that Brangaine made no attempt to persuade the Rìgh that she should go also, despite her promise to Gwyneth. Indeed it was clear that Brangaine felt only relief that she would not have to face the many dangers of the sea. Finn cast her a quick glance of contempt that caused colour to rise in Brangaine’s pale cheeks.

‘Wha’ about Donald?’ Dide said. ‘Donald the Gillie.’

‘No’ the MacRuraich’s gillie?’ Lachlan cried. ‘I kent Donald a long time syne. A doughty auld man indeed and the finest longbowman I’ve ever seen. He can shoot out a sparrow’s eye from two hundred paces. What do ye think,
leannan?
Would such an auld man draw suspicion upon the ship? It is no’ usual for a ship to carry any but the youngest and most able o’ men and though I doubt no’ that Donald be as brave as any o’ them, we want to do naught to draw suspicion upon them.’

‘Your Highness, sometimes an auld sailor that has seawater in his veins instead o’ bluid is made ship’s cook so he can still feel the waves beneath the boards and smell the sea air, even though he is too auld and stiff to climb the ropes or haul up the sails.’ The speaker was a tall, stern-looking man with close-cropped grey hair under a tricorne hat and a weather-beaten face. He and his companions had been talking on the other side of the room but had drawn closer during the discussion. He gave a brief bow as he spoke, his hand held in a fist at his heart.

‘Can Donald Gillie cook?’ Lachlan asked with a grin.

‘Very well,’ Finn replied with dignity, glad in her secret heart that Ashlin and Donald were to be allowed to accompany her after all. All this talk of dark and dangerous journeys was making her feel rather anxious.

‘Very well, it is decided, though I do no’ ken whether to laugh or sigh. Who’s ever heard o’ a thief with her own piper and gillie?’

‘Who’s ever heard o’ a thief who was also a banprionnsa?’ Dide quipped.

Lachlan smiled, then said, ‘Dide, the fleet is all set to sail in the morn. What have ye and Enit arranged to explain your disappearance after the Summer Fair?’

‘We are to pretend that my granddam has taken ill,’ Dide replied. ‘All ken that she is no’ strong and the crippling disease that twists all her limbs is growing more painful each year. My da will set off with the other caravans, for all ken we canna afford to lie idle for long. Nina will stay in Dùn Gorm and pretend to nurse her.’

‘But what o’ ye?’ Iseult asked. ‘Will none notice ye are no’ here either?’

Dide shrugged. ‘Those that travel with my da will think I stayed in Dùn Gorm with Granddam, and those that stay in Dùn Gorm will think I have gone with Da, all while Granddam and I are on the high seas. There are so many caravans here for the Summer Fair that no-one can be sure who has done what afterwards. All will be well.’

‘Very well then. Och, Dide, ye have no’ met our captain yet, have ye? This is Captain Tobias o’ Kirkloreli, a town no’ far from Bride in Tìrsoilleir. He is the one who shall see ye all safe to the Black Tower. Captain Tobias, this is my auldest and dearest friend, Dide the Juggler, the Rìgh’s own jongleur.’

‘The Rìgh’s own fool,’ Dide replied with a smile, bowing to the captain. ‘Well met, Captain.’

The captain bowed back, fist to his heart, then introduced the other men briskly. ‘This is my first mate, Arvin the Just, and this is the navigator, Alphonsus the Sure. Ye could no’ get a better crew; they all ken the Skeleton Coast like the back o’ their hands. If any can get us safely past Cape Wrath and through the Devil’s Vortex, they can.’

A thrill of fear had run down Finn’s spine at the words
The Black Tower
. It now deepened into a shudder that shook her slim frame. ‘The Skeleton Coast?’ she said in a rather high voice. ‘The Devil’s Vortex? Flaming dragon balls, will ye no’ tell me where we are going and why afore I go stark raving mad?’

For a moment all were frozen into shocked silence. Then suddenly Lachlan’s stern face broke into laughter.

‘Finn, ye wildcat!’ he cried. ‘Have ye no proper respect for your Rìgh? Is that any way to be asking a question o’ me? Ye should curtsy deep and beg my pardon with your eyes lowered, and say, “I beg your forbearance, Your Highness, to be so rude in interrupting but may I have the honour o’ addressing a question to ye?” ’

‘Och, what a load o’ dragon dung!’ Finn giggled.

‘Fionnghal!’ Brangaine cried. Colour burnt in her cheeks. ‘Please, Your Highness, forgive her, she does no’ mean to …’

Lachlan waved a hand. ‘Please, no need to apologise for our wee cat-thief. We are travel companions o’ auld. I well remember her colourful turn o’ phrase. Indeed, it does me good to hear her. I canna tell ye how tired I get o’ all the bowing and scraping and licking o’ my boots. At least with Finn we ken where we are.’

Brangaine bowed and stepped back, her colour still high. Finn could not help smirking at her, just a little.

‘Did ye tell Finn nothing o’ her task, Dide?’ Iseult asked, frowning a little.

‘Ye said tell no-one.’

‘But happen she would no’ have been willing to come if she had kent,’ Iseult replied.

Dide nodded, his merry face unusually grim. ‘Aye, I ken. Happen that is why I did no’ tell her.’

The smirk faded from Finn’s face. ‘So what is it ye want me to do?’ she asked anxiously. ‘All Enit said was that ye wanted me to break into some castle and steal someone.’

Lachlan’s mouth quirked upwards, but he said very seriously, ‘That is exactly what we want ye to do, Finn. The only problem is that castle and that someone are both behind the Great Divide.’

‘In Tìrsoilleir?’ Finn’s voice rose in a squeak. ‘Ye want us to go into the Forbidden Land?’ The Rìgh nodded. ‘Are we no’ at war with Tìrsoilleir?’ Finn said. Again the Rìgh nodded. ‘And we have to sail there? Even though the seas are full o’ Fairgean?’ The Rìgh nodded for the third time. Finn took a deep breath. She felt as if her heart was being squeezed by two giant hands. For a moment she could not say a word, then she said rudely, ‘’Tis no’ me that is stark raving mad, but ye, Your Highness!’

‘At least she remembered to call me “Your Highness” this time,’ Lachlan said to Brangaine with a little inflection of irony. The candlelight flickered across his dark, saturnine face and his wings rustled restlessly. Finn, Ashlin and Brangaine were all staring at him with pale, frightened faces, everything they had ever heard about the Forbidden Land rushing upon them.

Tìrsoilleir had held itself apart from the rest of Eileanan ever since its people had scorned to sign the First Pact of Peace and acknowledge Aedan Whitelock as their overlord and rìgh. Separated from the western lands of Eileanan by a curving horseshoe of a cliff, more than three hundred feet high in places, the Forbidden Land had remained in complete isolation for more than four hundred years. It was ruled by a militant council of religious fanatics who had overthrown the MacHilde clan many years ago, rejecting all ties to the Coven or to the royal family, and enforcing their own stern patriarchal religion. Elfrida NicHilde was all that was left of that once proud clan and she had never ruled, having been born long after the overthrow of her family.

Three years earlier, the Bright Soldiers of Tìrsoilleir had invaded the western lands of Eileanan in a religious crusade, determined to force all human inhabitants of the Far Islands to worship their cruel, unforgiving sun-god. Finn had heard many stories about the Bright Soldiers’ brutality and bigotry. It was said their clergy whipped themselves in punishment for their sins, refused to wash, or rest in comfort, forced men to fight and pray against their will, and tortured those who refused to submit. Their grim warrior-maids cut off their left breast when they accepted the yoke of their god, and it was even said they sacrificed beasts and babies on their altars. Even though Finn had heard Elfrida NicHilde deny such tales, she knew the Bright Soldiers were ruthless in their reprisals against anyone who did not accept their faith. Had they not burnt Jorge the Seer to death, the gentlest old man Finn had ever known?

‘Ye ken we have been endeavouring to win back the NicHilde’s throne for her ever since we managed to drive the Bright Soldiers from our soil?’ Lachlan said. As Finn nodded, he went on, ‘Apart from the fact that the Tìrsoilleirean shall always be a threat to us while they brood on our borders, there is no doubt we are in great need o’ money and men if we are to fulfil our promise to the MacSeinn and win back Carraig from the Fairgean. Once the NicHilde sits on the throne in Bride, she shall be able to fulfil her oath o’ fealty to me and bring men and arms and coin to the cause. Now, ye may no’ ken this, but we won many o’ the Tìrsoilleirean to our cause during the Bright Wars.’

‘Many o’ my people believe the MacCuinn is the angel o’ death,’ Elfrida explained in her soft voice. ‘The angel o’ death is the warrior angel o’ God Our Father, the one that passes judgement on the sinful and wreaks vengeance for wrongdoing.’

‘It is because o’ his wings and his bonny voice and his strange golden eyes,’ Iseult explained. ‘Apparently he looks like pictures o’ this angel o’ death.’

‘And because the beasts o’ the air and the field fought at his command, and because o’ the lad with the healing hands,’ Captain Tobias said unexpectedly. ‘To heal by the laying on o’ hands is a miraculous gift from Our God the Father, and no’ a trick o’ the Archfiend to tempt us into evil-doing. It must be so, despite what the pastors and the berhtildes said.’