Holder of Lightning

"Ah, ’tis you who has the magic, Jenna," Coelin said. "When you're there listening, I find myself always looking at you."

Jenna felt her cheeks cool, and she stopped the laugh that wanted to escape. "Is that the kind of sweet lie you tell all of them, so they'll come sneaking out to you afterward, Coelin Singer? It won't work with me."

His eyes glittered in the light from the window, and the smile remained. "'Tis the truth, even if you won't believe it. And you can tell your mam that the rumors about me are greatly exaggerated. I've not slept with all the young women hereabouts."

"But with some?"

He might have shrugged, but the grin widened. "Rumors are like songs," he said. He took a step toward her. "There always has to be a bit of truth in them, or they won't have any power."

"You should make up a song about tonight. About the lights."

"I might do that," he answered. "About the lights, and a beautiful young woman they illuminated-"

The door to the tavern opened, throwing light over Jenna and Coelin and silhouetting the figure of Ellia, one of Tara's daughters and Coelin's current favorite. "Coelin! Put out that pipe of yours and…" A sudden frost chilled Ellia's voice. "Oh," she said. "I didn't expect to see you out here, Jenna. Coelin, Mam says to get your arse inside; they want music." The door shut again, more vehemently than necessary.

"Ellia sounds. ." Jenna hesitated, tilting her head at Coelin. "Upset," she finished.

"It's been a busy night, that's all," Coelin answered.

"I'm sure."

"I'd better get in."

"Ellia would like that, I'm certain."

The door opened again. This time Jenna's mam stood there. Coelin shrugged at Jenna. "I should go tune up," he said.

"Aye, you should."

Coelin smiled at her, winked, and walked past her to the door. "’Evenin’, Widow Aoire," he said as Jenna’s mam stepped aside.

"Coelin." She let the door shut behind him, and crossed her arms.

"We were talking, Mam," Jenna said. "That’s all."

Maeve sniffed. Frown lines creased her forehead. "From what I saw, your eyes were saying different things than your mouth."

"And neither my eyes nor my mouth made any promises, Mam."

Inside the tavern, a rosined bow scraped against strings. Maeve shook her head, revealing the silvery gray that touched her temples. "I don’t trust the young man. You know that. He’d be no good for you, Jenna- wouldn’t know a ewe from a ram, a bull from a milch cow, or potato from turnip. Songmaster Curragh got him from the Taisteal; the boy himself doesn’t know who his parents are or where he came from. All he knows is his singing, and he’ll get tired of Ballintubber soon enough and want to find a bigger place with more people to listen to him and brighter coins to toss in his hat. He’d leave you, or you’d be tagging along keeping the pretty young things away from him, all the while with children tugging at your skirts."

"So you’ve already got me married and your grandchildren born. What are their names, so I’ll know?" Jenna smiled at her mam, hands on her hips. Slowly, the frown lines smoothed out, and Maeve smiled back, her brown-gold eyes an echo of Jenna’s own.

"You want to go in and listen, darling?"

"I’ll go in if you’re going, Mam. Otherwise, I’ll go home with you. I’ve had enough excitement for a night. Coelin’s voice might be too much for me."

Maeve laughed. "Come on. We’ll listen for a while, then go home." She opened the door as Coelin’s baritone lifted in the first notes of a song. "Besides," Maeve whispered as Jenna slipped past her, "it’ll be fun to watch Ellia’s face when she sees Coelin looking at you."

Chapter 2: A Visitor

IN the morning, it was easy to believe that nothing magical had hap-pened at all. There were the morning chores: settling the sheep in the back pasture, cleaning out the barn, feeding the chicks and gathering the eggs, going over to Matron Kelly's to trade a half dozen eggs for a jug of milk from her cows, doing the same with Thomas the Miller for a sack of flour for bread. By the time Jenna finished, with the sun now peering over the summit of Knobtop, it seemed that life had lurched back into its familiar ruts, never to be dislodged again. In the daylight, it was difficult to imagine curtains of light flowing through the sky.