untouched.
The walls, ceiling, and floor of the chamber had been cut from the stone of the mountain on which the White Keep sat. Though the floor had been polished so that it reflected the light from the witchfire, the walls were rough, still showing the grooves of chisel marks. Máister Kirwan’s head nearly brushed the low ceiling, also roughly cut. Sevei felt a moment of slight panic at being enclosed in the space. She took a long, slow breath, trying to calm herself. “Máister?”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “There’s nothing sinister about to happen. In fact, you should find it rewarding. Sit, sit . . .” He gestured to one of the chairs. As Sevei sat, Máister Kirwan paced to the back wall of the room, ducking his head as the roof above brushed the few wisps of hair left on the crown of his head. “Do you know why your great-mam is going to Dún Laoghaire?”
Sevei shrugged. “I assumed it was to see my mam,” she said. “And to see some of the land she came from.”
“That, aye,” Máister Kirwan answered, “and more. Mostly, she’s going because your mam invited her to come for the political impact it would make. It’s time that Inish Thuaidh was acknowledged as its own domain by the Tuatha. But there’s more.” He paused, exhaling a long breath. “Your great-mam doesn’t believe she will live much longer,” he said abruptly. He raised his hand against Sevei’s protest. “That is something we can only say here, and I pray to the Mother-Creator that she’s wrong.”
“Why would she believe that?” Sevei asked. A suspicion came to her suddenly and she felt coldness grip her throat. “Is it something she’s seen with Lámh Shábhála?”
Máister Kirwan shook his head. “No, it’s not a foretelling. At least, none that she’s shared with me.” The way he said it, so proprietarily, as if he and Jenna regularly shared confidences, made Sevei look at him with sudden curiosity. Just how close are they? she wondered, and then quickly banished the image from her mind. “But that’s what she believes,” Máister Kirwan continued, “and I see how the years have taken their toll on her. Lámh Shábhála weighs heaviest on the First Holder, and she’s borne that burden for many years. Let’s see how well you’ve paid attention in your studies—how long did Caenneth Mac Noll hold Lámh Shábhála?”
Sevei blinked, trying to recall the long list of Holders she’d been forced to memorize in her first year on Inishfeirm. “Umm . . . nine years?” she answered.
Máister Kirwan nodded. “Aye, though Caenneth was the only other Daoine First Holder. However, the Bunús Muintir lore says that their First Holders’ lives were also short. I can see how frail Jenna’s become over the years, especially since Falcarragh. I hope she’s mistaken, aye, but I’m afraid that she may be right. What weighs on her mind now is who will hold Lámh Shábhála after her. She wants it to go to the heir of her choice, not to whomever can claim it after her death. She wants Lámh Shábhála to go to someone loyal to her, and to have the chance to pass it on herself.”
“Then she wants to go to Dún Laoghaire to give it to Mam,” Sevei said firmly, but Máister Kirwan’s head moved slowly from side to side.
“No. Your mam’s already refused Lámh Shábhála once, years ago. She has no interest in clochs beyond Treoraí’s Heart. She would have been a good Holder, perhaps as competent as Jenna, but . . .” A shoulder lifted under the white robe. “I don’t think that is what she wants, even now.”
“Then Da?” Sevei ventured but the look on his face told her she was wrong. “Or you, Máister?”
Again the headshake, this time with a wan smile. “Not Owaine, and my own time has passed, I’m afraid, though I’d certainly take Lámh Shábhála rather than allow certain others to have it.”
Sevei sat silent, realizing what Máister Kirwan was implying. Then it is Kayne or me, and I was
The walls, ceiling, and floor of the chamber had been cut from the stone of the mountain on which the White Keep sat. Though the floor had been polished so that it reflected the light from the witchfire, the walls were rough, still showing the grooves of chisel marks. Máister Kirwan’s head nearly brushed the low ceiling, also roughly cut. Sevei felt a moment of slight panic at being enclosed in the space. She took a long, slow breath, trying to calm herself. “Máister?”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “There’s nothing sinister about to happen. In fact, you should find it rewarding. Sit, sit . . .” He gestured to one of the chairs. As Sevei sat, Máister Kirwan paced to the back wall of the room, ducking his head as the roof above brushed the few wisps of hair left on the crown of his head. “Do you know why your great-mam is going to Dún Laoghaire?”
Sevei shrugged. “I assumed it was to see my mam,” she said. “And to see some of the land she came from.”
“That, aye,” Máister Kirwan answered, “and more. Mostly, she’s going because your mam invited her to come for the political impact it would make. It’s time that Inish Thuaidh was acknowledged as its own domain by the Tuatha. But there’s more.” He paused, exhaling a long breath. “Your great-mam doesn’t believe she will live much longer,” he said abruptly. He raised his hand against Sevei’s protest. “That is something we can only say here, and I pray to the Mother-Creator that she’s wrong.”
“Why would she believe that?” Sevei asked. A suspicion came to her suddenly and she felt coldness grip her throat. “Is it something she’s seen with Lámh Shábhála?”
Máister Kirwan shook his head. “No, it’s not a foretelling. At least, none that she’s shared with me.” The way he said it, so proprietarily, as if he and Jenna regularly shared confidences, made Sevei look at him with sudden curiosity. Just how close are they? she wondered, and then quickly banished the image from her mind. “But that’s what she believes,” Máister Kirwan continued, “and I see how the years have taken their toll on her. Lámh Shábhála weighs heaviest on the First Holder, and she’s borne that burden for many years. Let’s see how well you’ve paid attention in your studies—how long did Caenneth Mac Noll hold Lámh Shábhála?”
Sevei blinked, trying to recall the long list of Holders she’d been forced to memorize in her first year on Inishfeirm. “Umm . . . nine years?” she answered.
Máister Kirwan nodded. “Aye, though Caenneth was the only other Daoine First Holder. However, the Bunús Muintir lore says that their First Holders’ lives were also short. I can see how frail Jenna’s become over the years, especially since Falcarragh. I hope she’s mistaken, aye, but I’m afraid that she may be right. What weighs on her mind now is who will hold Lámh Shábhála after her. She wants it to go to the heir of her choice, not to whomever can claim it after her death. She wants Lámh Shábhála to go to someone loyal to her, and to have the chance to pass it on herself.”
“Then she wants to go to Dún Laoghaire to give it to Mam,” Sevei said firmly, but Máister Kirwan’s head moved slowly from side to side.
“No. Your mam’s already refused Lámh Shábhála once, years ago. She has no interest in clochs beyond Treoraí’s Heart. She would have been a good Holder, perhaps as competent as Jenna, but . . .” A shoulder lifted under the white robe. “I don’t think that is what she wants, even now.”
“Then Da?” Sevei ventured but the look on his face told her she was wrong. “Or you, Máister?”
Again the headshake, this time with a wan smile. “Not Owaine, and my own time has passed, I’m afraid, though I’d certainly take Lámh Shábhála rather than allow certain others to have it.”
Sevei sat silent, realizing what Máister Kirwan was implying. Then it is Kayne or me, and I was
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