Daughter of Lir Read Online Free PDF

the new spring grass. The priestess’ boat
curved in toward the bank. They would all rest, eat if they were minded, let
the horses eat and drink.
    Emry tracked the spy to the wall that straggled, broken,
along the edge of the ridge. There the track ended, and a figure lay on its
face in the bracken, peering down at the riders by the river.
    The watcher was not at all aware of being watched. Emry
barely breathed. It was a young spy, dressed in worn leather breeches that
strained across well-rounded hips. The feet were bare and callused. The hair
was black, long, and rebelling against its single plait. There was a bow slung
across the bare brown shoulders, and a quiver with it. A pack lay beside the
watcher’s hand.
    It was a very patient watcher. She—for there was no doubt of
that—never moved, barely breathed, for as long as the riders paused by the
river. When they mounted and the boat thrust off from the bank, she lay still,
but her breathing had quickened a fraction.
    She waited till they had gone out of sight before she
gathered herself and rose. Emry’s noose fell neatly round her shoulders. Her
startled leap pulled it tight.
    She was wiser than to fight. She stood still, breathing
hard. Emry circled her lightly, warily, but she offered no threat.
    He looked without great surprise into the face of the young
woman from Long Ford: the dreamer, the toymaker, the one who should have gone
to Lir. She glowered at him through a tangle of loosened hair. “You had better
kill me,” she said.
    His brows rose. “Why should I do that?”
    “Because,” she said, “as long as I live, I’ll follow this
riding. You can drive me away. I’ll come back. You can set dogs on me. I’ll
fight them off. You can—”
    “Why?”
    That stopped her. She blinked, swallowed hard. “Did you
think I could stay, after that?”
    “Because everyone saw?”
    She shook her head furiously. “Because she saw. I felt the Goddess’ hand on me. And the priestess turned
away.”
    “You won’t force her to change her mind,” Emry said.
    “Stop taking me for a fool!” she snapped. “I know that. Just
as I know that you aren’t simply playing guardsman. You ride with her for
convenience. But when she turns back, you’ll go on. Won’t you? You’ll ride
eastward. You’ll take me with you.”
    A woman’s mind was a swift and incalculable thing, but this
was even swifter and less comprehensible than most. Emry’s head ached with
trying to follow the leaps of her logic. “I can’t take you—”
    “You’ll take me or I’ll follow.”
    “On foot? Once I leave the Goddess’ lands, I’ll ride as
swift as horse can go.”
    “I’ll make do,” she said grimly.
    “If you are wise,” he said, “you’ll go back where you
belong. Your people will forget, if any of them ever knew or cared. You’ll be
safe. And if the war does come so far—”
    “It will,” she said. “Oh, it will.”
    “All the more reason to turn back. What use will you be to
your kin if you’re killed on the wild plains?”
    “I might ask the same of you,” she said. “Why aren’t you at
home, building forts like the one here, and filling them with fighters?”
    His teeth clicked together. This was no simple village
child; she saw what princes and priestesses barely had wits to see. “My father
and brothers are doing that. I have . . . another duty to my
city.”
    She narrowed her eyes. Chill walked down his spine. That was
a Mother’s expression, a Mother’s intensity, seeing clear through to the heart
of him—and not greatly approving what she saw there, either. “You need me,” she
said.
    “What for? We’re not children. We need no toys.”
    Her jaw set, but she kept her temper. “You need a maker, one
who can see how the terrible cars are made.”
    “We’ll steal one and bring it back. Our makers in Lir can
make others like it.”
    “Will you have as much time as that? Isn’t it better to have
a maker with you? And,” she said, “a