that, no doubt, but she'd like him to send her some Vincan horse-warriors to fight against us."
Emer rolled her eyes and took back her hand. "Marriage alliances!" she said. "This is getting like dinner conversation at home."
"I wasn't talking about an alliance, except incidentally," Conal said. Now that he was free to move he reached out his hand, meaning to take hers back, but she turned, and she was in his arms and he was kissing the top of her smoothly braided head. Her scent was stronger than the scent of the grass. He felt overwhelmed.
"Emer!" he said. "Emer!" The hammering stopped again. "Emer," he whispered into her hair.
He knew exactly what he wanted to do, though he knew he wasn't going to do it. She might be a grown woman before the law, but she was not seventeen yet, and she was his uncle's fosterling. No matter what his father said, he wasn't an irresponsible boy. He could master his desires. But she turned her face up and looked at him, and in her eyes was such trust that he almost wanted to close his own eyes. "Conal," she said, very quietly.
Then there was a hesitant cough, and they leaped apart as if they had suddenly grown red hot.
It was the smith, bringing a cup of milk as he often did on warm days.
He held the wooden cup out to Conal, who stood and took it awkwardly.
"Shall I bring some more for the lady?" the smith asked slyly, looking at Emer.
Conal's first thought was to say no and get the man away as fast as he could, begging him not to tell anyone what he had seen. Then the things he had learned took over. If he acted guiltily everyone would assume that there was something to be guilty about. Nothing would make the man gossip more than him trying to stop him. Much better to act as if there was nothing unusual. "Yes, thank you very much," he said casually, sipping at his cup. "How do you keep the milk so cool on such a warm day?" he asked. Emer was sitting down with her back to them.
"Well now, I keep the bucket in the stream," the smith said.
"What a good idea. I shall have to tell my mother about that," Conal said. "I suppose you have an iron bucket?"
The smith laughed. "Iron fittings on it," he said. "A bucket all of iron would be too heavy."
"Of course," Conal said. "I was thinking you could have made one without the carpenter."
Page 24
"Iron fittings, and the wood swelled to be watertight, for a bucket," he said. "I'll fetch some more milk for the lady now."
Emer looked around when he had gone. "How could you talk so calmly?" she demanded.
Conal laughed. "I'm good at that," he said.
"I know, I've seen, but even so. My face was burning. It still is. I've never been so embarrassed in my life."
"We weren't doing anything wrong," Conal said, draining his cup.
"My mother would scream for days," Emer said. "Worse, she'd make me come home. She may anyway. She may not like my taking up arms." She bit her lip again.
"Surely she'll take it all right?" Conal was alarmed. "Uncle Conary sent ap Usli to explain, and he's good at explaining. She -won't really make you go home, will she?"
"I've begged Elenn not to ask her to," Emer said. "And she wrote as well. Maga takes more notice of her. But
Maga didn't want us to come away. Ap Usli could be back by now, if she had been happy. It's only five days to Cruachan."
"They'll have asked him to stay for the Feast of Bel," Conal said. "I can't see what Maga can object to, really, when it was a fortunate day."
The smith came back out with another cup of milk. Emer took it and thanked him seriously.
They all bowed, then he went back inside and began clattering again.
"It will be the Feast of Bel in three days," Emer said, drinking her milk.
"Yes?" Conal said. Then he remembered what that meant. "No," he said in a different tone. The Feast of Bel had three meanings. The first was that the season of planting was over and the season of war could begin, between planting and harvest. The second was the renewal of the ancient ward that protected
Emer rolled her eyes and took back her hand. "Marriage alliances!" she said. "This is getting like dinner conversation at home."
"I wasn't talking about an alliance, except incidentally," Conal said. Now that he was free to move he reached out his hand, meaning to take hers back, but she turned, and she was in his arms and he was kissing the top of her smoothly braided head. Her scent was stronger than the scent of the grass. He felt overwhelmed.
"Emer!" he said. "Emer!" The hammering stopped again. "Emer," he whispered into her hair.
He knew exactly what he wanted to do, though he knew he wasn't going to do it. She might be a grown woman before the law, but she was not seventeen yet, and she was his uncle's fosterling. No matter what his father said, he wasn't an irresponsible boy. He could master his desires. But she turned her face up and looked at him, and in her eyes was such trust that he almost wanted to close his own eyes. "Conal," she said, very quietly.
Then there was a hesitant cough, and they leaped apart as if they had suddenly grown red hot.
It was the smith, bringing a cup of milk as he often did on warm days.
He held the wooden cup out to Conal, who stood and took it awkwardly.
"Shall I bring some more for the lady?" the smith asked slyly, looking at Emer.
Conal's first thought was to say no and get the man away as fast as he could, begging him not to tell anyone what he had seen. Then the things he had learned took over. If he acted guiltily everyone would assume that there was something to be guilty about. Nothing would make the man gossip more than him trying to stop him. Much better to act as if there was nothing unusual. "Yes, thank you very much," he said casually, sipping at his cup. "How do you keep the milk so cool on such a warm day?" he asked. Emer was sitting down with her back to them.
"Well now, I keep the bucket in the stream," the smith said.
"What a good idea. I shall have to tell my mother about that," Conal said. "I suppose you have an iron bucket?"
The smith laughed. "Iron fittings on it," he said. "A bucket all of iron would be too heavy."
"Of course," Conal said. "I was thinking you could have made one without the carpenter."
Page 24
"Iron fittings, and the wood swelled to be watertight, for a bucket," he said. "I'll fetch some more milk for the lady now."
Emer looked around when he had gone. "How could you talk so calmly?" she demanded.
Conal laughed. "I'm good at that," he said.
"I know, I've seen, but even so. My face was burning. It still is. I've never been so embarrassed in my life."
"We weren't doing anything wrong," Conal said, draining his cup.
"My mother would scream for days," Emer said. "Worse, she'd make me come home. She may anyway. She may not like my taking up arms." She bit her lip again.
"Surely she'll take it all right?" Conal was alarmed. "Uncle Conary sent ap Usli to explain, and he's good at explaining. She -won't really make you go home, will she?"
"I've begged Elenn not to ask her to," Emer said. "And she wrote as well. Maga takes more notice of her. But
Maga didn't want us to come away. Ap Usli could be back by now, if she had been happy. It's only five days to Cruachan."
"They'll have asked him to stay for the Feast of Bel," Conal said. "I can't see what Maga can object to, really, when it was a fortunate day."
The smith came back out with another cup of milk. Emer took it and thanked him seriously.
They all bowed, then he went back inside and began clattering again.
"It will be the Feast of Bel in three days," Emer said, drinking her milk.
"Yes?" Conal said. Then he remembered what that meant. "No," he said in a different tone. The Feast of Bel had three meanings. The first was that the season of planting was over and the season of war could begin, between planting and harvest. The second was the renewal of the ancient ward that protected
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