Holder of Lightning

Maeve shook her head. "I’ve always heard that the Inishlanders are strange, and you. . you fit them well. I can barely believe the stories I’ve heard about you." She stroked the baby’s head; Jenna could remember Maeve doing that with her, long ago. "I can barely believe even what I’ve seen. You’re the Mad Holder, the changeling, the warrior, the great cloudmage, the Banrion." She paused. Her breath hung for a moment like a white cloud between them before the wind tore it away. "The murderer of your brother’s da and my lover."

The cold air pulled tears from Jenna’s eyes. She wanted to answer an-grily: What about me? I’m your daughter, your own flesh and blood and all you have left of Niall, and he would have killed me. You’re talking to me like an unwelcome stranger. Have 1 hurt you that much? Do 1 mean so little to you now? She forced the anger down, taking a breath. "Mam… If I could have changed that, I would have. He gave me no choice."

"Is that what you told yourself about Banrion Cianna also, Daughter?" Maeve retorted. "Would you say that to the widows of all the gardai dead because of you? ’Poor me! I had no choice!’ I tell you this, Jenna, because it’s what I thought every night since you fled Lar Bhaile: you should have stayed in Ballintubber. You should have given that stone-embodied curse you found on Knob top to someone else. Everything since you took Lamh Shabhala has turned to dust and ashes." Maeve barked a short, bitter laugh, looking at the tent. "Often quite literally." The baby stirred and gave a

cry; Maeve rocked him in her arms and he settled down once more. Jenna saw the face again briefly as Maeve brushed aside the swaddling-a mass of red curls, bright blue eyes, a small mouth with pouting lips: a handsome face. A tiny hand closed around one of Maeve's fingers. Jenna wanted to ask to hold the infant, to be able to look closely at him.

"That's my brother?"

Looking down at him, Maeve's face had softened for the first time. "Aye. His name's Doyle Mac Ard." She looked back to Jenna and the hardness returned to the lines around her eyes and mouth. "Padraic's final will gives the boy his surname and an estate-Padraic showed the document to me before he left Falcarragh and the Rl Ard has confirmed it. At least Doyle will have that, even though they will always whisper that he is 'the bastard Mac Ard child.'" Her gaze drifted past Jenna to the tent. "Padraic's body's in there?"

"Aye. I brought it with me from Dun Kill." Jenna's acknowledgment was less than a whisper. Maeve walked past Jenna. As she passed, Jenna started to lift her hand to touch her mam, but Maeve cast her a cold stare. Jenna watched her go to the tent, lift the flap, and walk inside. After a moment, Jenna followed her.

Mac Ard's body was wrapped in cloth saturated with unguents and oils: Loman's work. The gardai had laid it on a low pyre built of logs brought with them from Inish Thuaidh. The smell of oil was thick in the tent, cloying. Maeve didn't seem to notice, though Doyle started crying again. Maeve rocked him as she stood staring at the body, standing at the edge of the pyre. "It took weeks to bring him back from Thall Coill," Jenna said to Maeve's back. "I didn't know what you would want, whether you would want to send him to the Mother here or take the body home to whatever end he desired. Tell me what you want, and I'll have my gardai take care of it."

"What I want is for Padraic to be alive," Maeve answered, still facing the pyre. "Can you give me that, Jenna? Can the First Holder, the new Banrion, do that for me? Is that within your vast power?"

The questions tore holes in Jenna's soul. She felt the child inside her stir, and she placed her hands protectively over her stomach. "No." The wind snapped the canvas of the tent, punctuating the

Maeve swiveled. "What of the Cloch Mor that Padraic held? Give me that, so I can give it to Doyle as his legacy as a Mac Ard."

Jenna shook her head. "I can’t-I won’t-do that. It belongs. ."Jenna paused, taking a breath. It belongs to the child 1 carry. It’s Ennis’ legacy."… to Inishfeirm and Inish Thuaidh."

Maeve nodded, her mouth tightening. "Then can you at least manage to give me a torch?"

Jenna went to one of the tent posts, where two circles of copper held a smoldering brand. She pulled it from the rings and gave it to her mam.

"You may leave now," Maeve told her.

"Mam-"

Maeve shook her head vigorously, the flame flickering in her hand. "I’m not your mam. I’m the woman who loved your enemy. My allegiance is to the Ri Ard, not the woman who calls herself Banrion in the pigsty of Dun Kiil. Leave me to say farewell in private. Go back to your ship and your island and forget me. Give me that much."