Holder of Lightning by S. L. Farrell

Author:S. L. Farrell
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Tags: Science Fiction, Young Adult, Fantasy
ISBN: 9780756401528
Publisher: DAW
Published: 2002-12-31T13:00:00+00:00

“Them? They’re the first in a week. Came up from the south, they say, from Ath Iseal. The High Road’s not as well traveled these days. And not much business of a night, either.” She shook her head, wiping her hands nervously on her apron. “Not since . . . well, you know. That was a bad time, when those Connachtans came raiding. Killed Aldwoman Pearce, and cut down Tom Mullins and all four of his sons not a dozen steps from here when they tried to help. And poor Eli; one of them opened up my boy’s face just because he didn’t move fast enough when they told him to curry their horses. It was awful. They burned half the houses, and some of the women they . . .” Her voice trailed off. Remembered horrors drained the color from her face.

“Aye. I understand,” Jenna told her.

“We thought you and your mam and that tiarna were all dead, too. We saw your house burning like the rest, and those that went to look said there was no one there alive, though there were dead Connachtans and your poor dog. We thought you’d been burned with the house.”

Jenna shook her head. She found she didn’t want to talk about it. The days when the Connachtans had swept through in pursuit of the mage-lights and Lámh Shábhála had damaged Ballintubber but not truly changed the place. Ballintubber remained sleepy and forgotten; if it was lucky, it might stay so. For the first time, Jenna saw just how much she’d been altered by the events of the last several months. She was no longer the person who had lived here. This was no longer “home.”

“We managed to sneak away, my mam and I and the tiarna,” she told Tara. “It didn’t seem safe to go back.”

“So you went to Lár Bhaile,” Tara finished for her. From the expression on her face, she seemed to find it alternately amusing and unbelievable that someone from Ballintubber would have made that choice. “And now you’re . . . traveling.” She said the word as if it were something mildly distasteful.

“And we’ll be needing horses,” O’Deoradháin broke in, leaning forward. “Would you have two good steeds in your stable, or can someone in the village sell us the mounts? We’ll pay in hard coin.”

Tara shrugged, but Eli spoke up. “We have one, sir—a roan mare that’s a good twelve hands high and strong,” he said. “And One Hand Bailey has another he’s been talking of selling, a big brown gelding, past its prime but still healthy. He was asking half a mórceint, and not getting it. He’d take less now, I’d wager.”

“He can have his half a mórceint,” O’Deoradháin told him. “And a mórceint to you and your mam for the roan and livery for the two. Here . . .” O’Deoradháin opened his purse and took out two of the coins, flipping them to Eli. “Go fetch the gelding and get them both ready for us, and you can have the other half mórceint yourself.

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