Oraiáphon: A Novella of the Empire by Marian L. Thorpe

Author:Marian L. Thorpe [Thorpe, Marian L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Alternative History
ISBN: 9781999210120
Google: B3NjzQEACAAJ
Publisher: Arboretum Press
Published: 2020-02-25T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

FOR THREE DAYS I WAS treated exactly as Liam had implied: as the lord Sorley, musician and guest, and nothing more. Other men and a few women arrived: Eirënnen and their wives from close torps, a few officers from the Sterre. Dun Ceànnar's hospitality at Midwinter was legendary. I played every evening, at Bhradaín's invitation, even tuning my ladhar for Casilani melodies, introducing a different music to the audience.

Midwinter's Eve itself, the fire burning high in the huge hearth, I alternated between dancing and conversation, both required of me as lord and toscaire, and being a musician. When Bhradaín rested his voice, I played traditional songs, and watched as others danced. Food and ale and fuisce were in generous supply, but I wanted a clear head: it would not do for a musician to forget his fingering or the words. I had another reason, too, or a possibility of one. Bhradaín had an apprentice, Kester, and the boy had been just a little too attentive.

That alone I could have dealt with, but my last conversation with Cillian before I left had been instructive. “Mo charaidh, be careful,” he had said. “The oath you will swear demands that no man has sway over you. Some—including Liam—may try.”

“But on what grounds?”

“You are vulnerable,” he said. “Sleep alone, Sorley, even if an overture to you seems freely made.” I had said nothing. Cillian had pushed himself a little more upright. “It was not just disgust at my own behaviour that led me to choose a solitary life,” he said quietly. “I will tell you, someday. Just be careful.”

“I will,” I promised. I hadn't needed to be, on the ride north, but this boy worried me. I had noted Kester's occasional covert glance towards Liam after he had helped carry my instrument, or arrange a stool. I had learned to look for certain behaviours, sitting with Cillian over the long days of negotiation in Casil, and I thought it just possible that the boy glanced at Liam to look for approval, not to check if his behaviour towards me had been noticed. I truly hoped the interest was at least in part feigned, or being channelled for his lord's use. Blood would run high tonight, after the music and dancing and the fuisce.

Liam shouted for silence, and when the noise died down, offered a toast to the new year. Bhradaín stepped forward on the low dais, waiting again for silence; then, as befitted his status as scáeli to the house, he played and sang the traditional last song of the evening. He was, I thought, listening to the modulation of his voice, very skilled.

Kester appeared at my side. “Can I help you carry your music and instrument to your room, my lord?” he asked softly. He touched my arm.

“Thank you, no,” I said, my voice at its usual conversational tone. “I can manage. Help Bhradaín, if he needs it. I wish a word with the Raséair.” I stepped off the dais and crossed the floor to where Liam stood, talking to another man.

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