Daughter of Lir Read Online Free PDF Page A

he said.
    “You see what a man sees.”
    He lowered his eyes as if in submission, but he said, “I see
the truth. You chose in defiance of the Goddess.”
    “I chose as I had no choice but to do.”
    There was no yielding in her at all. If Emry had been wise
he would have let be, but tonight he had no wisdom in him. “Why? What made you
do it? Why did you turn away from the one whom the Goddess would have blessed?”
    “A man’s mind is a simple thing,” the priestess said. “You
believe you understand truth. You understand only the outermost face of it.
When you enter the innermost sanctuary of the temple, when you stand before the
Goddess as her best-loved servant, then you will be fit to judge what I have
done.”
    And that, Emry thought without great bitterness, would be
never in this life. A man did not walk in the inner shrine. He would have to
die and be reborn a woman, to gain that grace.
    “Go,” said the priestess, not too unkindly. “Rest; be at
ease. Whatever price is to be paid, I will pay it. It will not fall upon you or
any of the warriors who ride with you.”
    Emry had had no thought of prices or punishments. She was
sending him away like an impertinent child.
    Maybe he was no more than that. He let himself be dismissed,
and went in silence, as one who had submitted to her will.
    o0o
    They passed through a hand of villages in the next pair of
days. The priestess was not inclined to tarry in any of them. She chose a young
woman from one, a little round dumpling of a child who was, at least, honestly
blessed of the Goddess. There was nothing in any of the villages to match what
she had found and discarded at Long Ford.
    On the third day he was sure of what he had suspected
before. Something was following them. It was skillful. If he had not happened
to be riding in the rear the day after they left Long Ford, and lagging a bit
as he gnawed over his troubles, he might not have caught the soft sound that
brought his stallion’s head about. Thereafter he had kept his eyes and ears
alert.
    It was human, not animal. It was a hunter: it knew how to
follow softly and not alarm the horses. But it was not perfect in its silence.
    Emry should have sent one of his company to capture the
hunter. But he had had his fill of riding on guard against nothing at all. He
left Mabon in command of the guard, shed his princely finery, left his grey
stallion behind and set off afoot, swift and silent as a hunter should be.
    He had not hunted alone in a long while. Princes were always
escorted, and warleaders had their warbands. It might not be wise for him to do
it now—what if he walked into an ambush?
    This was the Goddess’ country. If there was war, it rumbled
still beyond the borders. Peace ruled here, for a while at least.
    He ghosted through the thickets of reeds by the river. His
heart was surprisingly light. He was alone; he was free. For a moment he even
thought, if he tarried, if he let the riders go on, if he needed a day or two
or three to find this lurker in the shadows…
    Almost regretfully he thrust the thought aside. He had
marked the last rustle in the reeds, and judged how closely it would follow the
riders. When he had left them, the hunter had been, he hoped, out of sight
round a bend of the river. It would see Mabon riding in the lionskin, and
perhaps not find it suspicious that the commander had changed mounts to a
sturdy dun.
    He found the track he was looking for. It was subtle, but
clear enough. The hunter had passed by not long ago. He quickened his pace.
    The riders paused as Emry had commanded, where the river’s
bank rose up into a long hill. The road divided there, where was a ruin like
the one above Long Ford. Part ascended steeply to follow the summit of the
ridge. Part ran along the bottom of the hill, alongside the river. This was
passable, though a day or two before it would not have been.
    Emry’s following halted as if to debate their course. The
horses straggled somewhat, grazing