Holder of Lightning

The door opened, and a young woman no older than Jenna entered, bearing a tray with a steaming pot, a cup, and tea. A tentative smile was on her plain face, but there was also caution in her eyes as she set the tray down on the bedside table and bustled about the room, pulling clothing from a

chest at the foot of the bed. She kept looking at Jenna as if Jenna" were some sort of mythical beast, or as if she were afraid that Jenna might suddenly order her head lopped off.

"Here, Bantiarna. This will be good; see how the brown matches your eyes? The tiarna's already been to breakfast, and the other bartiarna, too-she's your mam, isn't she? I think she's very lovely, not at all like my own mam-but they asked that you come to them when you wake. The healer will be back here in just a bit to look at your arm again; I'll make sure someone runs to find him as soon as I leave you. That arm of yours must hurt, the way it's wrapped. Did it give you problems sleeping? You've evidently been through a terrible fight, from what I've heard. Goodness, the rumors that have been flying around here all morning. ."

As the woman spoke, all seemingly in one gigantic breath, Jenna felt her arm cramp and tighten, her hand clenching involuntarily into a fist. She felt for the cloch-it was still there, hidden, and the feel of it caused her hand to relax, though the pain still radiated through her shoulder and into her chest. The servant was looking at her strangely, her mouth open though the words had stopped spilling out for the moment.

"Leave me," Jenna said abruptly before the young woman could take another breath and begin another monologue. "Those clothes are fine; I won't need your help."

The servant blanched, her face going white. "Young miss, if I've of-fended-"

Jenna waved her good hand to stop her. "You haven't. I just… I'd prefer to dress alone. Tell my mam and the tiarna that I'll be down shortly." She opened the door. "Please," she said, gesturing.

With a nod and bow, the servant left. Jenna closed the door behind her. She went to her pack, sitting at the side of the bed, and rummaged through it until she found the pouch of anduilleaf. She crumbled a bit of the herb and set it steeping in the teapot, then sank down on the bed. The bittersweet scent of anduilleaf wafted through the room, and that alone seemed to ease the pain a bit. For long minutes, she simply lay there, eyes closed, feeling the pain slowly lessen until she found she could move the fingers of her right hand again, then she went and poured her-self a cup of the brew. As she drank, she pulled

Eilis’ ring from the pocket, looking at it and turning it in her hand. She needed to know more, but she didn’t place the ring on her finger, uncertain. The specter of the an-cient Holder had seemed so bitter, so fey. Not someone Jenna would vol-untarily choose as an adviser. Come to where a Holder’s body rests, or touch something that was once theirs, and they can speak with you, if you will it. With the memory of Eilis’ words, Jenna sat up. She finished the anduilleaf tea, dressed quickly, and left her room.

She found her mam and Mac Ard in a parlor room leading out into an interior garden court, though when Jenna-directed by another servant- passed through it to get to the tiarna’s room, she found most of the plants were now brown and dead. The doors were shut, and a fire was roaring in the hearth. Mac Ard was standing near the fire, one arm still bound to his body and another bandage over his forehead. Maeve was sitting near him.

They had evidently been conversing, but both went silent as Jenna entered.

Food was laid out on a table near them, and Mac Ard waved at it with his good hand as Jenna entered. "Have you eaten?"

"I’m not hungry," she answered. "What word is there on the Connach-tans or O’Deoradhain?"

Mac Ard shrugged with one shoulder. "None. Three of the Connach-tans are dead-I know their faces, and the Ri Connachta won’t be pleased, as two of them are his cousins-and the others fled west, evidently leaving the High Road when it turned north. I sent men to the farm where we met O’Deoradhain-it wasn’t his land at all, it seems. There’s been no sign of him, and no freelander in the area knows him at all. I had someone find the Taisteal and speak with Clannhri Sheehan, who said that O’Deoradhain had come into the camp only a few hours before us. He was proba-bly a Connachtan as well."

Three are dead, and two of them you killed. . Jenna swallowed hard, trying to keep her face from showing anything of her feelings. "There’s talk all through Ath Iseal about mage-lights, clochs, and the Filleadh," Mac Ard continued. "The sooner we get to Lar Bhaile, the better. I’d like to set out tomorrow, if you’re able."

The thought of more travel made Jenna grimace,

but she nodded. "Whatever you think best. Whatever keeps us safe."