Nine Kingdoms: Dreamer's Daughter Part 22

Aisling nodded, because speech was simply beyond her. She closed her eyes and tried not to weep. She had loved the weaving mistress first because Muinear had been kind to her when no one else had been and later because she'd taught her everything worth knowing about negotiating not only the Guild, but also life. But now to know she was clinging to her great-grandmother . . .

She found it very hard to let go.

Muinear seemed to have an endless amount of patience. Aisling supposed she might have stood there all day if it hadn't occurred to her at one point that there was a hall full of people watching her and perhaps even something left for her to do. She pulled away from her mother's grandmother and looked into blue eyes that were quite a bit less watery and vague than they had been in times past.

"Thank you," Aisling whispered. "For staying with me at the Guild."

Muinear kissed her on both cheeks. "I'll respond to that properly, my love, when we have privacy. For now, there is choice laid before you. Bruadair has held its breath for this moment for many years, but it won't make any decisions for you. Neither will I. If you choose to step forward, it must be because you've chosen to do so."

Aisling felt a little winded. "I'm not even sure what I'm committing to."

"Aren't you?" Muinear said with a gentle smile. "Still?"

Aisling took a deep breath to answer, then realized there was no need. Perhaps she didn't know what the particulars were of the path that lay before her, but she knew that if she continued forward, she was going to be accepting her birthright.

As a dreamspinner.

Muinear stepped aside and off the path that was still glowing faintly on the floor. Aisling took a deep breath, then looked at the souls standing there on the dais.

There were, she could now say, six people standing there watching her. There was nothing unusual about their clothing; it was nothing she couldn't have found in the shops of Beul. They ran the gamut in looks, some very ordinary, one not particularly handsome at all, and the others almost too difficult to look at. But that wasn't the most remarkable thing about them. The most remarkable thing was they had her eyes.

She couldn't say she had spent all that much time looking at herself, but she knew what her eyes looked like.

She continued forward, then paused at the edge of the platform. She looked, one by one, at the six souls standing there. They didn't look displeased to see her; they were simply there waiting. And then they eased apart, three to one side and three to the other.

A spinning wheel sat there behind them.

Aisling put her foot on the dais and stepped up. All the people standing there, the six closest to her and the others who had apparently come to watch the spectacle, made absolutely no sound. She didn't dare look behind her to see if Rnach was still there in the building, because she knew he was.

She walked forward until she was standing in front of the wheel.

She realized she was surprised by the sight only after she had stared at the thing for what seemed like an eternity. Perhaps she'd allowed herself to speculate too much over the past pair of days about what the wheel of a dreamspinner might look like, but what she was seeing was not at all what she had expected.

It had been fas.h.i.+oned of suns.h.i.+ne and moonlight and deep rivers of cold water that ran beneath the earth, hardened into a substance that couldn't possibly be wood but had the appearance of it. She took a deep breath, then realized that she knew exactly what she would be committing to if she reached out and touched that wheel. She knew what the First Dreamspinner's responsibilities were because Bruadair had been teaching them to her slowly and patiently for weeks, first reaching out after her as she'd been standing in an old granny's house on Melksham Island, daring to risk death by touching a simple wooden wheel.

A throat cleared itself softly from her right.

She looked up in surprise to find a man standing there. He was impossibly thin, rather tall, with a long, beaked nose and hands that fluttered like a pair of restless b.u.t.terflies.

"My lady," he said, inclining his head, "if I could make a suggestion."

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Freasdail, my lady. Steward to the First."

"Oh," she said, unable to put any sound behind the word. "I see."

"I think that perhaps it might be a handsome gesture to those who've come to watch the ceremony if we were to perhaps move behind the wheel where they can watch the events proceed."

"Is that what we should do?" she asked faintly.

"I think it would be meaningful to them," he said, inclining his head again.

She supposed that if anyone wanted to watch her be struck down for her cheek, they were welcome to it. She looked at Freasdail. "And what do I do once I've stepped behind the wheel?"

"Lady Muinear will instruct you."

Aisling supposed she couldn't go wrong there, so she walked around the wheel and placed herself where Freasdail indicated with a series of lifted eyebrows and slight nods. Muinear smiled at her, then stepped to her side and looked out over the company gathered there.

"You are all come to witness the beginning of a new First," she said in a clear, unwavering voice. "My great-granddaughter, Aisling of Bruadair, whose right this is."

Aisling saw Rnach standing at the doors of the hall with her father. His hands were still clasped behind his back but tears were rolling down his cheeks. He still breathed, which she supposed was all she could ask for. She looked at her great-grandmother, who was still facing the crowd.

"The history of the wheel is long and ill.u.s.trious," Muinear said, "but not necessary for understanding the significance of the moment. Suffice it to say, the wheel stopped spinning as my daughter breathed her last and it has not spun since. Bruadair locked its revolutions partly in mourning for Cuilidh, partly as the final test for the lad or la.s.s with magic enough to become the First."

Aisling felt her mouth go dry. She looked at Muinear as she turned and smiled.

"Have others tried?" she whispered.

"Do you really want to know that right now?" Muinear murmured.

Aisling closed her eyes briefly, then looked for Rnach again. He was only still watching her, steadily. She realized she had nothing to lose at the moment besides her life, so perhaps there was no reason not to plunge ahead and cast her fate to the wind.

She reached out and put her hand on the flywheel. She looked up quickly at the faint sound, then realized it had been Bruadair to sigh lightly. The wood was cold under her hand, but that seemed to be from nothing more than the chill in the hall. She closed her eyes briefly, then gave the flywheel a firm spin.

Bruadair paused.

And then the world burst into song.

She supposed she might not have noticed that if it hadn't been so loud right next to her. The hall had erupted in applause and a few undignified cheers. But the world?

It sang a melody she was certain she'd heard before, but she couldn't for the life of her remember where. She found her hand taken and subsequently shaken heartily by the tall man who had been standing several feet behind her-perhaps to catch her if she fell. Muinear embraced her.

"Ah, my darling," she said, hugging Aisling. "A long road to this place, aye?"

"I thought you were dead!" Aisling said, before she thought better of blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

Muinear laughed. "Not yet, love." She pulled away. "Let me release you to those who have come to greet you. And I think there might be a lad at the back of the hall who has an especial interest in your future."

Aisling wasn't sure where to begin, but fortunately Freasdail seemed to know the most appropriate way to greet the souls who had come to witness what she was very happy to find wasn't her death.

She had the feeling it was going to be a very long morning.

She realized, several hours later, that long wasn't exactly the right word for it. Endless was likely a better choice, but she had survived it well enough thanks mostly to Freasdail, who always seemed to know exactly when to hand her something to eat or drink, or find her a chair, or clear his throat politely if a well-wisher carried on too long. She wasn't entirely sure that she hadn't received the odd gift or two, but she had lost track of them. She was quite certain that Freasdail hadn't.

A reception was announced outside in the garden and the flock of spinners deserted the hall with alacrity. Aisling found herself standing in the middle of the hall with her great-grandmother. It was then that she realized they weren't exactly alone. Rnach and her father had apparently been holding up the wall nearest the front doors.

"Ah, a creature from myth," Muinear said, smiling in Rnach's direction.

"You know that's what I thought elves were for the longest time," Aisling admitted.

Her great-grandmother winked at her. "I'm well aware of that, darling."

"I was surprised to find that his ears were perfectly normal."

"Well, we all make do sometimes with less." She linked arms with Aisling. "We'll wait for them to come to us, I daresay. It's good for them to make the effort."

Aisling thought Rnach's reputation might benefit from a recounting of all the efforts he had made for her, but perhaps later when she felt a bit more grounded. At present, she felt as if she were not quite where she was.

"Prince Rnach," Muinear said extending her hand to him. "A pleasure."

Rnach took her hand and bowed low over it. "Lady Muinear, it is an honor."

"You've taken very good care of my great-granddaughter, I see."

"That, my lady, has been not only an honor, but a pleasure."

Muinear smiled. "Such lovely manners. Your mother would be gratified and no doubt your grandmother Breagha is unsurprised." She looked at Aisling's father. "Bristeadh, love. I'm not surprised to see you here."

"My lady Muinear, nothing you've ever said has surprised me less."

Muinear laughed merrily. "I've no doubt of that, laddie." She looked at Aisling and her eyes were bright. "Perhaps the moment demands a bit more soberness, but I am so happy to see you that I can hardly muster up an appropriate amount."

"How did you survive?" Aisling asked, because she couldn't sit on the question any longer.

"Iochdmhor is not as clever as she thinks she is," Muinear said conspiratorially, "and I am, if I might say as much, a wonderful actress. I'll give you the particulars when we're at our leisure. For now, you need something to eat, then perhaps a day spent resting in peace and safety. Tomorrow is soon enough to lay our plans and see what's to be done about the mischief Sglaimir has combined. Bristeadh, if you would care to escort me outside? We'll leave these two a bit of privacy before guests start to wander back inside, looking for their First."

Aisling watched her father escort his late wife's grandmother from the hall, then took a deep breath before she turned to look at Rnach.

He was only watching her with a small smile, the same smile he'd been giving her for weeks. It was a smile that said he loved her, she knew, only this one was slightly bemused, as if he were seeing her for the first time after a long absence.

"What?" she said, wrapping her arms around herself.

He shook his head, unwrapped her arms, then wrapped them instead around his waist. He drew her close and rested his cheek against her hair. "I love you."

She smiled. "I love you back."

"Thank heavens. Does Bruadair approve of us, do you think?"

"We're both still breathing."

"I suppose that's endors.e.m.e.nt enough," he agreed. "How are you?"

"I'm not sure," she admitted. She pulled back and looked up at him. "Staggered, perhaps."

"That, I can understand perfectly," he said. He bent his head, then paused. "Will I be struck down for stealing a kiss, do you think?"

"I'll keep you safe."

He smiled. "I believe, Aisling my love, that you will. I'll return the favor as often as possible."

She was happily distracted for several minutes until he pulled away, shaking his head.

"I don't think the danger is over for me today, so I'd best keep my wits about me."

"Danger?" she asked in surprise.

"Your great-grandmother wants to talk to me later." He paused. "I think I should be afraid."

"I think perhaps you should be."

He laughed a little, then released her and took her hand. "Let's go have something strengthening, then perhaps a nap in a sunny corner. I actually think your great-grandmother has challenged me to a duel, but I'm not exactly sure. And here I thought it would be your father I would need to keep an eye on."

She nodded and walked with him. She glanced at the floor as they walked, seeing how their footprints became part of the history of the palace. Rnach's were, unsurprisingly, adorned here and there with hints of Fadairian runes. She saw that hers were more than just footprints as well, but wasn't sure how to describe what she saw.

She paused at the door to what was apparently the garden, then looked at the wheel sitting there on the dais, unattended- Or, perhaps not so unattended. She watched spells s.h.i.+mmering around it and decided that the world was in no danger of having any stray twelve-year-old lads coming along to give an irreplaceable spinning wheel a go.

If only the rest of the world could be so protected from things that might either intentionally or unintentionally do it harm.

"We'll make plans later," Rnach said quietly. "A pair of hours, Aisling, of peace and quiet. The world won't be destroyed in that time."

She nodded and hoped he was right.

Fourteen.

There were several things, Rnach conceded, that he had never thought to find himself doing over the course of what he knew would be a very long life. Becoming a black mage was one of them. Living out his life in a palace surrounded by servants and having nothing better to do with his time than eat, drink, and dance his endless evenings away had been another.

Facing a diminutive, Bruadairian great-granny who had just told him to stop being such a woman had honestly never entered his mind.

He supposed it had just been that sort of day so far. The journey to the dreamspinners' palace, Ciaradh, had been long and not precisely restful. He'd spent an anxious half hour mentally walking with Aisling up a path the floor seemed to demarcate for her without reservation, only to watch her put her hand on a spinning wheel and hope the b.l.o.o.d.y thing wouldn't kill her. He'd hobn.o.bbed with spinners from all over the world, many surprisingly not spinning for those rulers sitting on the Council of Kings, and eaten perhaps more than he should have in preparation for any other activity besides a robust nap.

He'd watched Aisling go off to what he hoped was a very soft bed. The use of a different chamber where he might avail himself of the same was what he'd hoped for. What he'd found was himself getting the opportunity to face a woman who should have been undertaking nothing more vile than the scolding of a servant.

He paused. Perhaps trying to exercise chivalry by telling her that had not endeared him to her.

He set that aside as something to be examined-and potentially apologized for-later, then considered further where he'd gone wrong that morning. After he'd apparently obnoxiously, though inadvertently, patronized Mistress Muinear to his own satisfaction but obviously past hers, he'd been invited to take a stroll with her where she thought he might not need his sword, but he was welcome to bring it if it made him feel more secure.

That should have been a warning.