Holder of Lightning

"Then the dream is wrong," Ennis insisted. "It was a dream and nothing else."

The seal wriggled in what Jenna decided was the equivalent of a shrug. "That may be," she said. "I only tell you what came to me. But it had the feeling of a foretelling."

"Do you see what will be, or only what might be?" Jenna asked.

"I see what I see," Thraisha answered. "I don't know more than that." Another cough: "I'm sorry, Holder. When I came, I could see joy in your face and I have destroyed that with my words. I wish I could give it back to you."

Jenna glanced back at the town. They could hear the sound of laughter and see the tops of the banners fluttering from the roofs of Market Square, just past the warehouses and fisheries that flanked the harbor front. The gaiety struck a false note now, like a song sung just off-key. Jenna could look at the harbor and imagine it filled with the warships of the tuatha, could practically see the smoke of burning houses while below the streets of Dun Kiil were chaotic with battle. As she stared, her right arm throbbed, her fist convulsing with the pain as if she were already there, the power of Lamh Shabhala arcing through her and breaking against the massed might of the Cloch Mor.

"It's only a possible future you see," Jenna said.

"It must be. The Water-Mother sent you a vision in warning. After all, Thraisha, if what you see must happen, then what use is there in telling me? If it's destiny, then there's nothing I could do to change it. Any action I take would still inevitably lead to the same point."

Thraisha wriggled again. "I don't know the way of gods, yours or mine. I see what I see," she repeated. "If it's destiny, then I know I'll soon be here with you again. I saw more, sister-kin. When you fell, the clochs turned to me and I could not swim against that current. Their magic drowned me and Bradan an Chumhacht swam from my mouth. So if it's destiny, then it's not only your death. It's also mine."

"It's a glimpse of maybe," Jenna insisted. "That's all. A warning."

"I hope you're right, Holder," Thraisha answered. Her companions were chattering loudly behind, and she turned her head toward them, her tar glistening with the movement as she listened and then looked

back to Jenna. "The sweetfish have started their evening run, and it’s time for us to feed," she told Jenna. "I will see you again, sister-kin, and I will help you any way I can." Her gaze went to Ennis. "And you, land-cousin, I bid you farewell."

Thraisha waddled toward the water, moving awkwardly over the rocks and dropping into the water. One by one, her companions slipped into the water with her. Their heads regarded Jenna and Ennis for a moment then they ducked under the next swell and were gone.

Chapter 45: Torn Apart

THEY walked back to the square. Though Jenna tried to pretend that nothing had changed, the joy had been drained from the day. The gaiety and laughter around them only served as a contrast, making darker the shadows that wrapped around Jenna with Thraisha’s words. She real-ized now that there would be no escape from the burden of Lamh Shabhala, not until it was taken from her (and with the thought, a bolt of agony shot up her right arm as if it had been torn loose from its socket) or she was dead.

She could not escape the world: not with love, not with festivals, not by turning her back on it and secluding herself. She must be the First Holder.

"Come on," she told Ennis, taking his hand. She pulled him toward the square and for the next few stripes, she went from one vendor’s booth to another, watched all the performers, examined all the wares with a fierceness and energy that surprised Ennis. She plunged into the fair as if she could obliterate herself in its bright celebration. By the time torches Were lit along the square and the bonfires roared on the three hilltops around the city, Jenna was exhausted and certain that she knew what she must do.

They took supper in one of the inns just off the square, and afterward strolled out toward the crowd gathering around a temporary stage at the north end for a performance by a group of

mummers. They were stopped °y a page from the keep, who came running up to them. "Mages! There you are! I’ve been looking for you for over a stripe now…"

Ennis laughed at the boy, panting, his hands on knees as he tried catch his breath. "What is it, Aidan? Is Moister Cleurach wondering where we got to?"

"Not Moister Cleurach," Aidan answered, gulping air. "It’s the RI. The procession to the square is ready to start and he wishes the two of you to be at his side when he enters." He nodded toward one of the side streets leading away from the square. "Follow me," he told them. "I was told to take you this way."