A Dance with Fate Read online

  “Want to make a wager that I can’t get through it?”

  “I’d have surer odds if I wagered that I couldn’t get through it,” he says with some bitterness, though he has lain down on his back and is stretching out his arms, preparing to start.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve lost your competitive streak, Dau. You were scheming to beat me from our very first day on the island.”

  “Hah!”

  We start. Stretches first: arms, legs, back, shoulders. Exercises on the ground. Exercises standing. I’ve wondered how much running and jumping Dau should do; wondered if that might make his eye condition worse. But Fergus and Jabir did allow him to ride here from the coast, so it should be all right.

  “How’s your head?” I ask casually.

  “Not bad, so far.”

  “Think you could jog around the edge of the area, maybe with a hand on my shoulder? Or just using what you can hear?”

  “You expect me to say yes.”

  “I expect you to say yes provided you can do it without hurting yourself. The aim of this is to restore you to fitness, not do more damage.”

  “I’ll do it. No hand on shoulder; we can’t run properly like that. You go first, I’ll follow.”

  We start slowly. When it’s plain Dau can do this remarkably well, we speed up. I make the pace, he follows. We complete twenty circuits of our smallish training ground, then gradually slow until we stop and stretch again. Compared with our morning routine on Swan Island this is child’s play.

  “More?” inquires Dau when he has his breath back.

  “We need to take it gradually. That may be enough for the first day.”

  I pass him the waterskin. He drinks and gives it back. “How about a walk?” he suggests. “Are there folk around?”

  “This place doesn’t give the best of views. I suppose I could take you on the scenic tour of my hut next to the cesspool.” I pause to drink. “Dau. We do need to be careful. Seanan told us to stay out of his way. You know what he’s capable of.”

  After a moment Dau says, “How many days left until the year is up?”

  “Too many.” I can’t keep the chill from my voice. There’s no way Seanan’s going to leave us alone for the best part of a whole year. I’ll be lucky if we get one turning of the moon. “So let’s make each of those days count, Dau. Let’s do something good with every single one. Adding a new exercise to our routine. Singing a new song, telling a new tale. Finding a friend. Inventing a joke. Making each other laugh.”

  “How do you do it? Where do you find that relentless hope?”

  “I can’t tell you that. Just that it’s always seemed like the right way. The only way. Part of trying to be brave, I suppose.”

  “Trying? Seems to me you can’t help being brave.”

  “I have my weak moments, Dau. I just try not to show them. You’re right about the walk. Archu would approve. Shall we go?”

  On the way down to the hut I explain in an undertone what I can see around us and warn him of obstacles in our path. When we’re about halfway there I stop suddenly, and he curses under his breath, narrowly avoiding a stumble.

  “Sorry,” I murmur. “Come over here, under cover.” I’ve just seen Seanan out riding, beyond the wall, all by himself. He’s heading south along the valley, with the forested hills to his right and on his left a patchwork of walled fields dotted with small clusters of trees. Dau and I keep still in the partial cover of a furze bush. I watch as his brother rides up toward a stand of willows. There’s an old byre or outhouse there; I can glimpse crumbling walls under the trees. The fields in that area lie fallow—no creatures graze there, and from the look of it, the soil hasn’t been turned over in years. It’s all long rank grasses and deteriorating drystone walls. It must once have been a farm, but there’s no dwelling house in sight. Is that still Lord Scannal’s land?

  “What are you looking at?” Dau whispers in my ear.

  “Shh. Later.”

  Seanan dismounts and leads his horse in under the trees. Both he and the animal are out of sight now. Has he gone inside? We can’t stay here too long; someone could be watching us. It’s odd, though. Seanan’s not equipped for hunting, and he doesn’t seem the kind of man who’d go out to visit the poor on his own. Perhaps the old outhouse is not derelict after all; I see a curl of smoke rising from the place now. If it’s some kind of assignation—I try and fail to picture Seanan with a lover—that is hardly the most appropriate of trysting places. “We’ll walk down to the hut now,” I tell Dau. “We’ll talk when we get there.”

  Inside the hut are my markings on the wall, my first count of days. I take his hand, put his fingers against the scratches. “I used to think people who count things were odd,” I say. “But I’m understanding now how it helps. If we add these to the ones in the stables we’ll have every day since we came here.”

  “Let’s not start with these,” Dau says, surprising me. He always keeps count of everything, from how long it takes to clean a weapon or set up a target to how many times each of us has won a single combat.

  “Then where do we start?”

  “From the day you found me,” says Dau.

  Oh, gods. Tears well up too fast to deal with. What is this? How can so slight a thing make me weep like a child? I turn away quickly. Not that he can see. But he’s close enough to hear it in my voice and in my breathing. “All right,” I say. In my mind I make a promise that may be impossible to keep. It has to do with Dau’s eyes and the unpalatable knowledge that at the end of my year’s servitude I’m supposed to walk away from Oakhill and leave him behind. It dawns on me that our friendship is changing in a way neither of us ever intended. That’s an uncomfortable insight. “It’ll feel long enough even without those extra days.” This seems a good time to change the subject. “Dau, I saw something odd before, when I stopped on the path.”

  “Mm?”

  I tell him about Seanan and the old crumbling farm building and the empty land around it. “Is that part of your father’s holding?”

  “It was. Probably still is. There was a tenant farmer there. I remember the place as well looked after. But a lot can change in six years. Corb might know. I think his family farm is up beyond there.”

  “It did seem rather odd. Not that it’s any of my business what your brother does in his spare time. But Swan Island trained us to be observant. To take note of anything out of the ordinary.”

  “Maybe he went for a ride and needed to relieve himself somewhere private. Maybe he’s getting tired of a house full of monks.”

  “Stopped for a piss and lit a fire on the hearth while he was doing it?”

  “Maybe he was feeling cold.”

  I give this remark the silence it deserves. Seanan is master of his own domain. Folk jump to obey him. He can arrange things any way he wants. If he wants to be left alone, surely all he has to do is say so.

  “Swan Island doesn’t teach you to stick your finger in a wasp nest so you can find out what happens,” Dau says. “If he’s not bothering us, be glad of it. Whatever he’s up to, it’s no concern of ours.” He wrinkles his nose. “How did you bear the stink in here?”

  “It’s not as bad as it was before I fixed the drains. But it’s time we went back anyway. We don’t want to overdo things.”

  “Spoken like a stern parent admonishing an unruly child.”

  “I’d prefer to sound like Archu working with a wounded warrior. Give me time. I may get it right before we’re finished.”

  We walk back. I keep an eye out for Berrach, though he’s stopped giving me work since we moved to the stables. We’re almost back there when Dau says, “I’m sure I’ll be cursing you before the end of this. But so far you’re doing a pretty good job.”

  “Of being Archu?”

  “You’ll always be yourself, Liobhan. But you’re like him. You’re like him in mor
e ways than you probably know.”

  I feel my cheeks flush with pleasure. He’s surprised me yet again. “Thanks,” I say. “As for the cursing, I expect we’ll both be doing it before we’re finished. It goes with the job.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Day by day we work on strengthening our bodies and sharpening our minds. We don’t see Seanan at the stables. If he wants to go riding, it’s his practice to have a groom prepare his horse and lead it around to the front of the house. We don’t see Berrach. The sick, injured, and frail from St. Padraig’s are settled in that part of the house where Dau was before. The infirmarian and his assistants are caring for them, but the other brethren are gradually returning to their damaged monastery, where rebuilding will soon be under way. Brother Íobhar does not come to visit Dau. I assume that’s because he’s busy overseeing the arrangements for the sick—he seemed to be a figure of some authority—but I learn soon enough that I’m wrong. Miach passes on something she heard from the apothecary monk. Brother Íobhar has been sent away on monastery business. He left suddenly and he’s likely to be gone for some time. In his absence Brother Petrán, the senior infirmarian, is in charge. He’s agreed that Miach can continue using the stillroom for her own preparations, provided she lets him know what she’s doing. Useful for me, since Miach is the source of the materials I use for Dau. I ask if she knows where Brother Íobhar went—it seems odd to me that he would leave at a time of such upheaval for the brethren. Miach doesn’t know. But she tells me there was a row between Íobhar and Seanan the day before Íobhar left. Something about the household arrangements and who was really in charge. She slipped away out of the garden when they raised their voices, not wanting to be accused of eavesdropping. I wish she’d heard more.

  As for Lord Scannal, he must have made a decision not to interfere. I didn’t expect to see anything of him. But Dau hasn’t seen him since the first day, and that is a surprise. Despite the history of ill will, there’s no altering the fact that Dau is his son. His silence is distinctly odd.

  None of this is reassuring. I know Seanan’s not far away; I know how deeply he hates Dau and how much my manner irks him. I thought he’d act sooner. Does he not realize that by sending us to the stables he’s done us a big favor? The man’s not stupid. If he’s waiting for us to lower our guard, waiting for us to feel safe before he strikes, Seanan has underestimated us. We’re getting stronger and we’ll be ready.

  By day fifteen I’m seeing a marked improvement in both Dau’s strength and his attitude. I can tell that he’s decided whatever I can do, he will match, even though he’s blind. Stubborn idiot. If he thinks I’m going to have a full-on bout with him, he’s dreaming. I’d be mad to risk delivering another combat injury.

  All the same, when he suggests we practice deflecting a surprise assault—imagine, for instance, that a person was walking along a hallway, perhaps heading calmly to supper, and someone reached out from an alcove and grabbed them—I agree without allowing myself to think too hard. It’s a situation we could easily face here with Seanan’s men, and if it happened in the dark I’d have the same challenges to meet as Dau would.

  We can’t practice this effectively in our small open area so we do it in the stable yard. Dau’s getting to know his way around here, though people do have an unfortunate habit of leaving buckets or pitchforks or brooms up against the wall. I check that there are no such obstacles present. I check that there are no hard objects on the ground, then check again.

  “Count slowly to ten,” I tell Dau. “Then walk along next to this wall as if you were heading to the privy. And be ready.” As he counts, I slip as quietly as I can into the second of two open doorways along his path.

  I expect him to walk slowly, finding his way with caution. Instead he strides, so I have to lunge out from my hiding place in a less than perfectly controlled move. I manage to get a good grip, but in doing so I topple both of us to the ground, which was not part of my plan. With a heave and a twist, I make sure I’m the one who lands underneath.

  “Cease,” I gasp, being Archu again. Dau may have got thinner, but it’s still uncomfortable to have his full weight sprawled on me. After that awkward twist my back hurts.

  Dau rises. In keeping with the protocols of Swan Island, he reaches out a hand to help me up, judging my position precisely. It’s then that I see Corb at the pump, watching us round-eyed, and a couple of stable hands behind him, apparently much diverted.

  “We have an audience,” I tell Dau in a murmur. “Corb and a couple of the lads. Your turn now.”

  “If you say so,” says Dau. “We should make this quite even, yes? Corb! Find me something for a blindfold, will you?”

  It’s fair enough. Corb brings a scarf and, under Dau’s instructions, ties it over my eyes. This feels weird. It’s only an exercise, and we know not to hurt each other, but my heart is suddenly racing. No time to consider why, because Dau says, “Count slowly up to ten, then do the same thing I did. Only we’ll start from the other end this time.”

  I count. I don’t stride out but I walk at a brisk pace, feeling how my balance is affected now I can’t see. I have just time to think, This is what it’s like for him all the time, when he grabs me, not around the chest as I expected, but by the legs—he’s been crouching down, and he throws himself at me. I’m not ready for it, and I stagger, fighting for balance. I try to grip his clothing, but he holds on and rises to his feet with me over his shoulder like a sack of flour. Morrigan’s curse! Has he been practicing secretly, to have so much strength back? Dau drops me, and I land on the ground in a humiliating heap. He helps me to my feet. Again. Corb and the stable boys cheer, startling the horses.

  “That was a low trick,” I say, reaching up to untie the blindfold. The first thing I see is the triumphant grin on Dau’s face.

  “Precisely the sort of move you might use,” he says. Then the grin fades. “You didn’t let me win on purpose, did you?”

  “Hah! Hardly. I don’t enjoy being hauled about like some hapless maiden. My only concession was taking steps to make sure you didn’t hit your head the first time around. And now my back hurts, so we’d better leave it at that. A stretch or two and I’ll be fine.” I remember our audience. “Thanks, Corb.” I pass him the scarf. “The show’s over, fellows.”

  With some reluctance they go back to their work. Perhaps they didn’t believe I could really fight, before this. In view of what just happened, maybe they still don’t believe it. Never mind that. Dau has done well. I take some pride in that. And he was happy, for a bit at least. Small steps.

  When we’re back in our quarters, Dau offers to salve my back. I accept, since I can’t reach the spot myself and the only alternative is Corb. I shut both doors first, the one into the stables and the one that leads outside. The special salve my mother gave me when I was last at home is all gone, but I’ve made up a fair imitation from materials Miach got for me. I’m in shirt and trousers, my usual attire for training. I pull the shirt awkwardly up out of the way. The only thing I have on under it is the band I tie around my breasts when I’m doing something active.

  “This isn’t going to work,” says Dau, standing next to me with the salve jar in his hand. He knows where I am, but I can’t keep my clothing out of the way with one hand, and I can’t indicate where the sore spot is without guiding his hand there. “Lie on the bed, facedown. And if you’re concerned about your modesty, don’t be. I can’t see a thing.”

  No, but you can feel plenty, I think but don’t say. Since it makes perfect sense, I do as he suggests. I take off the restricting band, then lie down with my shirt pulled right up. I wait while he touches different parts of my back with fingertips so careful I think of a butterfly on a flower, which under the circumstances is utterly ridiculous. “There,” I say, and his fingers pause. “You need not use much. It spreads quite easily. Rub it around that spot, over an area about the size of your palm. Mm
, yes, that’s good. Not sure what I did to myself, but it hurts. Maybe no training tomorrow.”

  “Just a walk, perhaps.” Dau’s hand keeps up a steady motion. The salve warms my skin and the pain starts to subside. I must remember to thank Miach again.

  “I wish we could go walking outside the walls,” I say. “Up to the woodland.”

  “And spy on my brother’s unusual activities?”

  I wasn’t thinking of that at all, only of how good it would feel to walk in the forest, just Dau and me, pretending for a while that things are as they were before. But it wouldn’t be like that, of course. He’d still be blind. “Not that. Just to be somewhere different for a while. Somewhere we didn’t need to be so careful.”

  Dau says nothing for a while. He keeps rubbing my back gently. I wish I could stop time for a little bit, just lie here and enjoy the sensation.

  “Liobhan,” Dau says. His hand stops moving. “Would you ever lie with a man because you felt sorry for him?”

  “What?” I start to sit up, then think better of it. “Of course not! That idea disgusts me.” What is he thinking, to ask me such a question?

  Now he’s gone silent again. I squirm around to see his face and don’t much like the shuttered look on it. It reminds me of how he was sometimes, in those first days on Swan Island. Those days when I had no idea about his past and his family and the nightmares he wore like an invisible garment everywhere he went. I clear my throat. “Let me clarify. Lying with a man is somewhat appealing, given the right circumstances. But not because of feeling sorry for him. It would have to be for other reasons.”

  “What reasons?”

  “Must we have this conversation?” Even as I ask this, it occurs to me that at some point or other, perhaps we do. Because things are changing between us, whether it suits us or not. It’s there in the way he touches me, and the way my body responds. The way I can sing to him and hold his hand in the dark, the way we can cry together. The way I feel when I see him hurt, and when I see him brave. The way his voice softens, sometimes, when he speaks to me. It’s a development fraught with complications, and right now complications are the last thing we need. “Forget I said that. Now’s not the time, that’s all.” But it feels like the time, as I lie here with Dau’s hand warm against my back, and the sweet, pungent smell of the salve filling the room, and my mind pleased out of all proportion by our little training exercise, even if I did end up on the ground with my back on fire.