unfortunate for them."
"And fortunate for us." Aedh beamed at the prince with blatantly overdone charm. "Prince Ardagh, I understand that Wessex can be quite a pleasant land."
"Can it, indeed?"
"Of course, it's already too late to travel so far this year; autumn is already past the best time for sailing, and winter is definitely not the time for an ambassador to set out. And before we can do anything else we shall have to go through the formality of a general meeting of my counselors first. The Sacsanach have not been exactly kind to our British kin. I suspect," the king said blandly, "that we're in for a good deal of shouting and bluster."
"Without a doubt." Ardagh's voice was equally bland. "And I suspect that those British kin are distant cousins."
"Very."
"Convenient. I will need some schooling in the ways and language of Wessex, naturally. I'm a swift learner, as my lord Fothad will, no doubt, attest, but there are limits."
"Of course," Aedh agreed. "So now, eventually matters will get themselves straightened out. Let's just say that I'm sure you'll enjoy your visit to Wessex."
"Oh yes," Ardagh agreed, "I think that I may."
But his smile was not at all charming or dutiful.
One of the safest places for two lovers to meet in Fremainn was out here in the bright daylight in the center of the grassy field, with no possible hiding places to let even the most suspicious soul find fault in their being together, nor any way for anyone to overhear what they said.
Which, Ardagh thought, was just as well. He and Sorcha had been strolling together, apparently innocently, but all the while he had been hunting for a way to say what he must say.
No way but the blunt truth. "Sorcha. King Aedh has decided to use me as an informal sort of ambassador."
She eyed him warily. "Where? Surely not to Leinster."
"No. The king wishes to send me to King Beortric of Wessex."
Sorcha froze, stricken. "Wessex!"
Startled by her shock, Ardagh soothed, "Ae, love, it's not the Land Beyond Beyond."
"It's far enough! Ardagh, do you have any idea of our human distances? You don't, do you? We're not talking about some magical blink-of-the-eye trip there and back again, but a journey of only the good Lord knows how long, first by boat, then over leagues of foreign soil. And there's so much that could happen, so much that could go wrong—why, even in the simple crossing from Eriu to—Ardagh, you can't, you mustn't—"
"No, no, Sorcha, you're missing the point. Listen to me, calmly. Calmly."
"Go ahead," she said grimly. "I'm listening."
Ardagh took a deep breath. "Last night I made one more attempt to open a Doorway. It failed. Yes, that's why I've been dragging myself about so wearily. You've seen me collapse from backlash before: you know something about how much strength the effort would have cost me. With this latest failure," he continued, fighting to keep his voice level, "I believe I have completely exhausted whatever little spells I've been able to find in Eriu."
"B-but you haven't—you can't—"
"Listen to me. Wessex is new soil; foreign soil. At the very least, I'll be able to keep myself healthy by drawing on its forests' natural Power, just as I do here. At the most—I am hoping against hope, as you humans would word it, that I'll find something more useful, more Powerful, there. I might even," he added with a sudden savage burst of longing, "find the spell to open the Doorway home."
"I see. You . . . wouldn't just go, would you?"
"What—"
"Ardagh, please: Sidhe honesty."
"I know no other sort. Go on."
"If you opened a Doorway in Wessex, one that would let you go home, you wouldn't leave me here alone . . . would you?"
"Ae, never. Sorcha, never."
Her laugh was shaky with relief. "There is something to be said for having a love who can't lie."
Ardagh cocked his head to one side, studying her. "But there's something more than worry in your eyes, I think."
"I don't doubt it. For one thing, I'm envying
"And fortunate for us." Aedh beamed at the prince with blatantly overdone charm. "Prince Ardagh, I understand that Wessex can be quite a pleasant land."
"Can it, indeed?"
"Of course, it's already too late to travel so far this year; autumn is already past the best time for sailing, and winter is definitely not the time for an ambassador to set out. And before we can do anything else we shall have to go through the formality of a general meeting of my counselors first. The Sacsanach have not been exactly kind to our British kin. I suspect," the king said blandly, "that we're in for a good deal of shouting and bluster."
"Without a doubt." Ardagh's voice was equally bland. "And I suspect that those British kin are distant cousins."
"Very."
"Convenient. I will need some schooling in the ways and language of Wessex, naturally. I'm a swift learner, as my lord Fothad will, no doubt, attest, but there are limits."
"Of course," Aedh agreed. "So now, eventually matters will get themselves straightened out. Let's just say that I'm sure you'll enjoy your visit to Wessex."
"Oh yes," Ardagh agreed, "I think that I may."
But his smile was not at all charming or dutiful.
One of the safest places for two lovers to meet in Fremainn was out here in the bright daylight in the center of the grassy field, with no possible hiding places to let even the most suspicious soul find fault in their being together, nor any way for anyone to overhear what they said.
Which, Ardagh thought, was just as well. He and Sorcha had been strolling together, apparently innocently, but all the while he had been hunting for a way to say what he must say.
No way but the blunt truth. "Sorcha. King Aedh has decided to use me as an informal sort of ambassador."
She eyed him warily. "Where? Surely not to Leinster."
"No. The king wishes to send me to King Beortric of Wessex."
Sorcha froze, stricken. "Wessex!"
Startled by her shock, Ardagh soothed, "Ae, love, it's not the Land Beyond Beyond."
"It's far enough! Ardagh, do you have any idea of our human distances? You don't, do you? We're not talking about some magical blink-of-the-eye trip there and back again, but a journey of only the good Lord knows how long, first by boat, then over leagues of foreign soil. And there's so much that could happen, so much that could go wrong—why, even in the simple crossing from Eriu to—Ardagh, you can't, you mustn't—"
"No, no, Sorcha, you're missing the point. Listen to me, calmly. Calmly."
"Go ahead," she said grimly. "I'm listening."
Ardagh took a deep breath. "Last night I made one more attempt to open a Doorway. It failed. Yes, that's why I've been dragging myself about so wearily. You've seen me collapse from backlash before: you know something about how much strength the effort would have cost me. With this latest failure," he continued, fighting to keep his voice level, "I believe I have completely exhausted whatever little spells I've been able to find in Eriu."
"B-but you haven't—you can't—"
"Listen to me. Wessex is new soil; foreign soil. At the very least, I'll be able to keep myself healthy by drawing on its forests' natural Power, just as I do here. At the most—I am hoping against hope, as you humans would word it, that I'll find something more useful, more Powerful, there. I might even," he added with a sudden savage burst of longing, "find the spell to open the Doorway home."
"I see. You . . . wouldn't just go, would you?"
"What—"
"Ardagh, please: Sidhe honesty."
"I know no other sort. Go on."
"If you opened a Doorway in Wessex, one that would let you go home, you wouldn't leave me here alone . . . would you?"
"Ae, never. Sorcha, never."
Her laugh was shaky with relief. "There is something to be said for having a love who can't lie."
Ardagh cocked his head to one side, studying her. "But there's something more than worry in your eyes, I think."
"I don't doubt it. For one thing, I'm envying
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