you."
Conal reminded himself again how young she was, almost a year younger than he was, not even seventeen yet. "Yes," he said. "And later, not yet, later, in a few years' time, we could get married, and keep on fighting together."
Emer didn't say anything for a moment, and he thought he had spoiled everything. Then she put her hand on top of his where it lay on the grass. "It would be like a song," she said quietly. "If my mother would let us."
"You said she wanted to marry you to Darag," Conal said. He felt far more aware of his hand where hers touched him than of anything else. "There are no bloodfeuds between our houses. I am of the royal kin of
Oriel. If she would consider Darag, I ought to do as well, if not better. Through my father, I am also of the royal kin of Anlar."
"Maybe we could persuade her," Emer said. She ran her long fingers over the back of his hand.
He shivered.
"It isn't blood she is concerned about, but alliances. Kings." Emer frowned.
"Darag is not bound to be king of Oriel," Conal said. He felt as if his hand was his whole body, his whole existence. He wanted to move, to put his other hand on her hand, but he dared not. "And surely if you tell your mother your preference, she will take account of it."
"My father might," Emer said, biting her lip. "My mother thinks that if Elenn is married to Ferdia and he is king of Lagin, and I am married to Darag and he is king of Oriel, then they will do what we say."
"That's nonsense," Conal said. "I mean, when my father married my mother, I am sure my Grandfather Ross of Anlar and everyone here meant it to be an alliance to bind Anlar and Oriel.
But we go to war with Anlar whenever we want, and my father goes along and takes care not to kill his friends and then makes up songs about it afterwards."
"Maga's plan is that we should make the marriages as alliances for Connat before anything else, and use our wiles to keep our husbands firm to our alliance," Erner said, screwing up her face.
"She is full of good advice about how to do this, and how to be a queen, all of which sounds the most vile nonsense. Not to mention that it demonstrably doesn't work, or she and Allel wouldn't fight so much. But she says that if we do it right there will be nobody to attack Connat except Muin."
"Or Anlar, or the Isles," Conal objected. "But no, I suppose Anlar couldn't attack except through Oriel, and the Isles would have to attack by sea, and I suppose that's why she wants your brother to marry Atha."
"She doesn't want him to!" Emer said, surprised. Her hand stopped moving, and Conal's breath caught. "My father wanted him to, but Maga says that Atha is a famous warrior and will Page 23
always want to be fighting someone."
"She would, you know," Conal said, grinning at the thought. "I met her when she was here last year. She's not happy sitting still. She had the champions racing and playing hurley all day and dancing all night. My aunt Elba kept threatening to take to her bed with exhaustion, and my mother kept forcing her to join in with dire threats."
Emer laughed and stroked his hand again. "I wish I'd seen that. Is Atha really as ugly as people say?"
"No, nothing like. She's not pretty, but she wouldn't crack a plate either. Just like anyone.
But I hear she always spikes her hair and paints herself ugly all over for battle."
"Does she fight naked, then?" Emer asked.
"Apparently. Almost all the champions of the Isles do. I haven't seen her in war paint. But that's what my mother said."
"It shows great trust in the gods," Emer said dubiously. "Our people paint their faces and arms and legs, but they wear armor where it will cover."
"Very sensible of them," Conal said. "But you're right that Atha fights in a frenzy, and your mother is right that she'd not be happy without fighting. Besides, I have heard that she might be going to marry Urdo ap
Avren."
"Really? And go off to Tir Tanagiri and fight the Jarnsmen?"
"Ah, that's the snag. Urdo would like
Conal reminded himself again how young she was, almost a year younger than he was, not even seventeen yet. "Yes," he said. "And later, not yet, later, in a few years' time, we could get married, and keep on fighting together."
Emer didn't say anything for a moment, and he thought he had spoiled everything. Then she put her hand on top of his where it lay on the grass. "It would be like a song," she said quietly. "If my mother would let us."
"You said she wanted to marry you to Darag," Conal said. He felt far more aware of his hand where hers touched him than of anything else. "There are no bloodfeuds between our houses. I am of the royal kin of
Oriel. If she would consider Darag, I ought to do as well, if not better. Through my father, I am also of the royal kin of Anlar."
"Maybe we could persuade her," Emer said. She ran her long fingers over the back of his hand.
He shivered.
"It isn't blood she is concerned about, but alliances. Kings." Emer frowned.
"Darag is not bound to be king of Oriel," Conal said. He felt as if his hand was his whole body, his whole existence. He wanted to move, to put his other hand on her hand, but he dared not. "And surely if you tell your mother your preference, she will take account of it."
"My father might," Emer said, biting her lip. "My mother thinks that if Elenn is married to Ferdia and he is king of Lagin, and I am married to Darag and he is king of Oriel, then they will do what we say."
"That's nonsense," Conal said. "I mean, when my father married my mother, I am sure my Grandfather Ross of Anlar and everyone here meant it to be an alliance to bind Anlar and Oriel.
But we go to war with Anlar whenever we want, and my father goes along and takes care not to kill his friends and then makes up songs about it afterwards."
"Maga's plan is that we should make the marriages as alliances for Connat before anything else, and use our wiles to keep our husbands firm to our alliance," Erner said, screwing up her face.
"She is full of good advice about how to do this, and how to be a queen, all of which sounds the most vile nonsense. Not to mention that it demonstrably doesn't work, or she and Allel wouldn't fight so much. But she says that if we do it right there will be nobody to attack Connat except Muin."
"Or Anlar, or the Isles," Conal objected. "But no, I suppose Anlar couldn't attack except through Oriel, and the Isles would have to attack by sea, and I suppose that's why she wants your brother to marry Atha."
"She doesn't want him to!" Emer said, surprised. Her hand stopped moving, and Conal's breath caught. "My father wanted him to, but Maga says that Atha is a famous warrior and will Page 23
always want to be fighting someone."
"She would, you know," Conal said, grinning at the thought. "I met her when she was here last year. She's not happy sitting still. She had the champions racing and playing hurley all day and dancing all night. My aunt Elba kept threatening to take to her bed with exhaustion, and my mother kept forcing her to join in with dire threats."
Emer laughed and stroked his hand again. "I wish I'd seen that. Is Atha really as ugly as people say?"
"No, nothing like. She's not pretty, but she wouldn't crack a plate either. Just like anyone.
But I hear she always spikes her hair and paints herself ugly all over for battle."
"Does she fight naked, then?" Emer asked.
"Apparently. Almost all the champions of the Isles do. I haven't seen her in war paint. But that's what my mother said."
"It shows great trust in the gods," Emer said dubiously. "Our people paint their faces and arms and legs, but they wear armor where it will cover."
"Very sensible of them," Conal said. "But you're right that Atha fights in a frenzy, and your mother is right that she'd not be happy without fighting. Besides, I have heard that she might be going to marry Urdo ap
Avren."
"Really? And go off to Tir Tanagiri and fight the Jarnsmen?"
"Ah, that's the snag. Urdo would like
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