“You needn’t worry,” Yowan assured him. “I’ll not allow Adelaine’s lad to come to any harm.” He quietly closed the door on his way out.
Albyn was still ready to take exception to Egan’s reproachful glance, but convinced Oriana was right about his friend’s pride, he kept to the subject at hand. “Kieran insisted upon the eve of Samhain for the flight. That gives us only six days, but if you rest while I work on the wing, we should be ready.”
“Yowan claims to know how to build one,” Egan replied. “But rather than discuss how I’m to keep his superbly constructed wing in the air, I want you to describe this plan of yours, Oriana. You didn’t appear to be surprised when Kieran mentioned the wings. Why not?”
Oriana sent Albyn a furtive glance, then sat down upon the bed and slid the ties from her pouch containing the Stones of Tomorrow from her wrist. She ran her fingertips over the delicate embroidery as she spoke her thoughts aloud. “Every man has a flaw that can be turned against him to great advantage. It was Albyn who knew precisely what would appeal to Kieran’s reckless soul, and he inspired an enticing rumor about reviving the wings.”
Egan straightened slightly, then adjusted his posture to ease the pain. He shot Albyn an incredulous glance, but when Albyn merely shrugged, he understood what they had done in an instant. “I’ll grant you it was clever to plant an idea Kieran would swiftly seize as his own, but what makes you believe either of us can leap from Mount Royal and survive?”
“Aye, flying will be difficult,” Oriana hastened to admit, “but at least we’ve kept you alive to make an attempt.”
“And I should be grateful for that great favor?” Egan scoffed. “What I need is more ale, not impossible dreams.”
“I’ll fetch your ale,” Albyn volunteered, “but if it’s hope you need, perhaps Oriana will find some in her magical stones.”
Caught in a lie she had no wish to perpetuate, Oriana wadded the soft leather pouch into a lumpy ball. She was known for the accuracy of her prophecies rather than the manner in which she gave them, but it still hurt to admit the pretty stones lacked any magical properties.
Oriana appeared so confused and hurt, Egan regretted being so curt with her. “She’s told us both about the voices. If she’s no wish to display her talent with her Stones of Tomorrow, then let her be. Just fetch the ale, and I’ll be grateful.”
Albyn could not make himself leave while Oriana was so troubled. He spoke in a soft, encouraging tone. “You needn’t be afraid to tell us what the Stones reveal. Whatever it is, we’ll face it together.”
Both the kindly Druid and her husband wore expressions of such tender concern, it made her situation all the worse. They had earned the right to the truth, but telling it might make them suspect all she spoke were compelling fabrications. It was a risk she would rather not take, but in good conscience, she had no other option.
“I collected the Stones in our travels,” she explained haltingly. “I used to lay them out in a row and recount where they’d been found. My mother made the bag from a cobbler’s scraps and embroidered it one summer. It was the people who saw me carrying it who assumed it contained something precious.
“The way people stared at me when I told fortunes always made me horribly uncomfortable, but I found if I gave them one of my treasured Stones to hold, they would turn it over in their hands and study it rather than gawk at me. It was my mother who began calling them my Stones of Tomorrow, and she’s the one who helped me devise their fanciful names. It became the seeker’s choice then, but regardless of which Stone they selected, I relied upon the knowing, the voice that guides my prophecies, for the truth.”
She had to force herself to look up, but her companions’ expressions had merely filled with confusion rather than the disgust she had feared. When neither had an immediate comment, however, her heart sank under the weight of their silent disapproval. Still clutching the leather bag of her childhood keepsakes, she rose and left the chamber before either could condemn her aloud.
Albyn felt sick with disappointment, for at Egan’s first mention of the Stones of Tomorrow, he had hoped that Oriana might be persuaded to teach him how they were used. All he had found, however, was yet another empty illusion rather than the deep insight he craved.
“I’d hoped for more than a fancy bag of souvenirs,” Albyn muttered dejectedly.
“What does it matter if she rolled acorns in a bowl before telling fortunes? Her prophecies are painfully accurate. When we met, she warned me of a terrible danger and insisted that I should return home with all possible haste. I laughed at her show of concern and had to become her champion to entice her into coming home with me. But the closer we came to the fortress, the more she was convinced that someone I loved was dead. After we arrived, she insisted the danger to me had not passed. Now
, which of those prophecies would you care to disparage?”
“None,” Albyn exclaimed, for Oriana had been accurate with each one, but he still felt a fool for having hoped he had finally found the key that would unlock the mysteries of the future. He took a reluctant step toward the door. “There are herbs which might dull your pain better than ale. There was simply no time to seek them out yesterday.”
Egan shook his head emphatically. “Poison is too easily concealed in bitter herbal brews, and I’ll not risk it.”
Egan’s expression was far too serious for Albyn to discount his fears. “We’ve had no time to talk about Cadell, but do you suspect he might have been poisoned?”
Weary, Egan rubbed his hand over his eyes. “Aye, I do, but it wasn’t to hand me the crown.”
Intrigued, Albyn sank down on the bed. “Kieran, then,” he proposed. “But Ula would have known, and she adored Cadell, or at least that’s the way she behaved when I left to join the Druids. Had she and your father become estranged?”
It pained Egan to recall how deeply devoted a wife Ula had been. “No. Whenever I saw them together, she was wrapped around his arm or fondling him openly. She listened to his every word with a rapt attention I wish Oriana would display. But …”
“But what? You’ve described only Ula’s actions. How did your father treat her?”
“I barely remember my mother,” Egan finally confessed. “But when my parents were together, it was my father who always held her in a warm embrace. What I recall most vividly was how often they laughed together. My father was kind to Ula, respectful, but they shared little hearty laughter.”
A loud knock at the door announced the arrival of Egan’s breakfast. Albyn admitted a pair of shy young women, and he was pleased to find they had brought a large pitcher of ale. He kept silent as the servants placed the tray on Egan’s bed, giggled into their hands, and brushed by him on their way out.
“Eat and sleep,” Albyn suggested. “I have neglected my fellow Druids and must make up for it this very day. If there was a plot to give Kieran the crown, then someone will know of it. Such an evil secret will be difficult to keep.”
“Take care,” Egan warned. “Do as Oriana suggests and just listen rather than ask questions and reveal our suspicions.”