Seamus, the lost Phelin’s brother, met him on the terrace and held out a tankard of ale.
“Thanks for this, but why aren’t you kissing your wife?”
“So I did, and well. Now she’s dancing with my father. So welcome to the new, Taoiseach.”
“Welcome to the new.”
“Some look for you inside.”
“Ah well.” Keegan drank. “Of course.”
“I toasted my taoiseach, and now I’ll speak to my friend. Go home, Keegan.”
“Ready to be rid of me?”
“To my friend of a lifetime, I say you’ve done all you need to do here, for the time, and more time will come for doing more. Go home to the valley, your farm, your family, your woman. We hold the Capital for you, and for Talamh.”
“I know you do.” He drank again. “She’s not altogether in the way of being mine.”
Shaking his head, Seamus lifted his tankard, drank deep. “Mo dheartháir, you may say it, and even in your way believe it, but that doesn’t change the truth. Ah well. What I’m saying to you is take the time you need. You’ve given and will give again. When we lost Phelin, gods rest him, you gave us your shoulder, your hand, your heart.”
“He was mine as well. A lifetime friend, as you are.”
“That I know. So you gave to all what they needed. We stood when we needed, we fought, and we held. We will again. Today’s Judgment was, well, a bloody bitch of a duty, and well done. And so done, Keegan.
“Was it home you saw in the balefire?”
“It was, aye, and that will hold me for another day or two. Three, I think, for the shagging meetings and bleeding diplomacy. But beyond that fecking shite, I want your counsel once more, and your father’s, and others I know and trust to speak of what the traitor told us in the Judgment. There’s much there to pick at.”
He looked back toward the fire. “There are others like her, small and weak minds or greedy hearts or simply with some dark need inside. We have to root them out, Seamus, though gods know I find no joy in sending any to the eternal dark.”
For a moment, silence held between them. Then Seamus spoke.
“I leaped in the lake that day along with you, and envied you, so envied you when you lifted the sword. Oh, so bright it shined in the morning sun. But that was the innocence of youth in my eyes.”
Seamus clasped a hand on Keegan’s shoulder. “Now, by all the gods, I don’t envy you the sword or staff. We’ll dig out those rotten roots, Taoiseach, and when you bring down the staff in Judgment on them, you’ll bring it down with honor.”
“Families will mourn, as Shana’s does, as this Cait’s does.”
“They will, aye, and that blame lies with the ones who betrayed their families and the Fey.”
“It does, so we’ll meet. Not tomorrow, as too many will have sick heads and considerable regret they drank themselves drunk this night. I envythat,” he realized. “I think I’d like a good drunk myself.”
“Say the word.” Seamus clapped him firmly on the shoulder again. “And I’ll join you in one.”
“Not this night,” Keegan said with a laugh. “I’ve the First Day duties among others. But soon I’ll take you up on it, be certain. Now, I’ve got two more dances in me before I can get away.”
“Bridie Mag Aoidh’s got her eye out for one.”
“Is that the one with the strawberry hair and the odd sort of giggling?”
“That would be her sister, Maveen. Bridie’s the blonde with a voice like rusty pipes.”
“Ah gods, she’s feet like long boats and clumsy with it.”
Seamus gave Keegan another clap on the shoulder as they went back into the music and voices. “No indeed, I’ve no envy in me for you.”
CHAPTER NINE