Heir of Stone (The Cloudmages #3) Read Online Free PDF Page B

keep servants had placed refreshments on the inner porch of Dún Laoghaire Keep. A quartet of gardai stood discreetly away from them on either side—with Edana as the Banrion of Dún Laoghaire and Meriel the Banrion Ard of all the Tuatha, they were rarely alone and unguarded outside their private chambers. On the grassy sward before them, Ennis, almost two double-hands of years of age and the youngest of Meriel’s children, was examining a map of Talamh an Ghlas under the supervision of his attendant-tutor Isibéal, a woman of perhaps thirty. The boy’s face was solemn and intent as he pressed his finger down on the parchment and asked Isibéal an unheard question. Ennis was always serious; sometimes, Meriel thought, too much so for such a young child. She wished he were playing with a ball or chasing butterflies rather than pressing his nose to a piece of yellowed, dusty paper.
    “He should be out more,” Edana said, as if guessing Meriel’s thoughts. “I know a good family with holdings near Tuath Gabair who would be happy to take him in fosterage for a time—they have sons his age. Here in Dún Laoghaire, there’s so little for him. I think that’s why he’s so quiet and intense. Born with the caul over his face . . . well, you know what they say about that.”
    Meriel smiled indulgently toward her son. “What’s the matter with him?” Meriel had said, worried and exhausted after the long labor. The two midwives were glancing nervously at each other, but Keira, the old Bunús woman who was also the Protector of the old forest Doire Coill, clucked angrily at them and took the child, holding it up. Edana saw the pale blue membrane over the infant’s face, like a translucent mask. Already, Keira was wiping it away with her hand as the baby squalled its irritation.
    “Give me a piece of blank parchment,” Keira snapped at one of the midwives. “Now! Go, woman.” Then she turned back to Meriel. “You have another son,” Keira told her, much more gently. “And born with a caul . . . He will be gifted, Meriel.”
    “Gifted?”
    “Those with the caul are often given second sight. And the color of the caul and the size of it . . .” The midwife came scurrying back with the parchment. Keira had laid the baby down alongside Meriel. She took the membrane of the caul and pulled it slowly away from the child, placing it on the parchment. The Bunús studied it, biting at her lower lip. Her rheumy eyes, already enfolded in deep wrinkles, seemed lost as she frowned. “He’ll be a strong one, this one. A natural mage . . .”
    “And Isibéal?” Edana said, the question taking Meriel away from her reverie. “She seems to be working out well.”
    Meriel nodded. “Aye. I had misgivings, but with her references from Banrion Taafe . . . When Doyle comes back from Lár Bhaile, thank him for me for suggesting her. But you didn’t come here to talk about Ennis.”
    Edana glanced away toward Ennis and Isibéal. “No,” she answered finally. “I’m . . . worried, Meriel.”
    “About?”
    A hand lifted from the tablecloth and fell back. “Rumblings,” Edana said. “Some of my ears among the Riocha are telling me that there’s been strong talk lately—about you, and about your mam. About Jenna’s visit here and what it implies.”
    Meriel would have laughed at that in dismissal had Edana’s face not been so serious. “There have always been rumblings like that,” she said. “For how many years now? Nothing’s ever come of it.”
    “I know, but this is different. No Rí or Banrion of Inish Thuaidh has come here in five centuries, and now your mam is coming: the Mad Holder herself.” Meriel blinked and drew back at the term, and Edana pressed her lips together. “I’m sorry, Meriel, but you must know that’s what they’re saying. One of my people in Tuath Connachta said she overheard Rí Fearachan talking about a spy in Inish Thuaidh and how some plan is to be put into action.” Edana hesitated,