The Pool of Two Moons (37 page)

Each day the League practiced maneuvers under the anxious eye of their general, Dillon the Bold. They had had few weapons to begin with but had begged, borrowed and stolen from all over the camp until all thirty-two of the League had sharp daggers to thrust through their belts. The elder boys had persuaded the soldiers to begin training them in the use of short swords and crossbows, and Finn was very cross that the soldiers refused * to teach her.

"They say a lassie canna learn to shoot!" Finn said aggrievedly.

"Och, they be fools!" Iseult cried. "I shall teach ye myself, and we'll show those soldiers how well a girl can shoot!"

This pleased Finn very much indeed, and she begged for a lesson there and then. Iseult shook her head and said she first had to attend a war council.

"They are letting ye go to the war council?" Finn was wide-eyed, having learned to her cost how little the soldiers thought of women in war.

"O' course I am! I'd like to see them try and keep me out."

Finn heaved a blissful sigh and asked if she could come too. Iseult shook her head. "Nay, Finn, I'm afraid that may be stretching the generals' forbearance too far. There is something I would like ye to do for me, though." She rummaged around in a small pouch at her waist, drawing out a broken arrow, dark and brittle with age. "Jorge has told us that he thinks ye have a talent for finding things." Finn shrugged. "People are always asking me to find something for them."

"Ye sound as if ye wish they would no'."

Finn crimsoned and looked at the ground, her hands twisting the hem of her ragged dress into a knot.

"They always want me to find bad things," she muttered.

"Well, I want ye to find something for Lachlan, something very important, that may help us win," Iseult said gravely.

Finn looked up, her hazel-green eyes shining. "I would love to find something for ye and the winged one!" she cried. "What?"

Iseult explained about Owein's Bow and how it had been hidden in the witches' tower at Lucescere. Finn's face fell. "I'd rather eat toasted toads than go back to Lucescere. I was apprentice to a witch-sniffer—the Grand-Seeker Glynelda herself bonded me. I ran away, and I'll be beaten badly if they catch me."

"Glynelda is dead," Iseult reassured her. "There's a new one, from Siantan—he bides at Dunceleste, no'

Lucescere. Ye would be safe."

Finn shook her head. "They all know me, all the seekers in Lucescere. They ken I helped Jorge and Tomas escape . . ."

Iseult's blue eyes were thoughtful. "Mmm, that could be a problem," she responded. "Though our plan is no' to go into the city ourselves, for we canna risk Lachlan falling into the hands o' the Awl. We think to breach the rampart from the mountains."

"How?"

Iseult smiled ruefully. "That is one o' our problems. I was going to try and jump it . . ."

"But it's two hundred feet high!"

"Aye, I ken. I do no' think I can do it now, the children weigh heavy on me and I have been sick . . . Hopefully we shall come up with a solution in the war council."

"Goblin and I could climb it for ye," Finn offered.

Iseult looked at her in surprise. "It is meant to be unclimbable," she objected. "It is smooth as ice and curves outward. No-one has ever climbed it."

"Goblin is an elven cat," Finn said. "She climbs these cliffs and the rampart canna be higher or smoother than them."

Iseult looked at the cliff that enclosed the corrie like a frozen wave. It was near three hundred feet high in places. "Your cat climbs that?"

"Aye, as easy as walking a path. Ye should see her! Her claws are very sharp."

"But ye have no claws ..."

"No, but ye see, the witch-sniffer I was trained by was really a thief, and one o' the best. He could steal a jewel from the Righ's own crown if he wanted to. I climbed into many a house or castle for him and find most walls have crevices or ivy or something I can cling to."

"They say this rampart has nothing. No' even a crack."

"All walls have cracks. But if ye like, I could tie a thread to Goblin and a rope to the thread . . ."

"Aye, but surely your kitten canna be tying the rope up securely?"

"No, but she could go around a projection and then jump down again so the rope can be pulled up."

"Ye'd have to train her first though, and that we do no' have time for . . ."

"Och, I'll just tell her what to do, that's no problem!"

"Ye can talk to the cat?"

Finn nodded. Iseult looked at her with interest. It seemed this little girl had great powers indeed to have found herself a familiar when so young.

"How can ye be sure the projection is secure? We dinna want the rope to be coming undone when ye are climbing it."

"Och, Goblin will no' want me to fall. She'll make sure the string is secure." Iseult looked at the little girl with admiration. "A grand idea indeed. Happen I should take ye with me to the war council!"

Finn straightened in pride. "Really?"

Iseult smiled briefly. "No, sorry, Finn, war councils are no' really the place for lassies, no matter how canny.

I'd like to see ye climb the cliff, though, and see if we canna devise a way to ensure ye can breach the rampart. It would be dangerous though. Red Guards patrol the auld tower, and ye heard Lachlan tell how he was caught there."

"I could disguise myself!" Finn cried in excitement. "I be just a lassie, the soldiers will no' ken I am rebel if I disguise myself."

Iseult said, "Maybe. We'll see." She stretched and added, "I must wake my sleepyhead husband if we are ever to get our plans finalized. Run along now, Finn, and we will talk later." With the tiny black cat a silent shadow at her heels, Finn went running through the camp, shouting with excitement. She had met the banprionnsa and was to help them breach Lucescere! Just wait till she told Scruffy!

The war council took many hours, even though Lachlan and Iseult had gone over the plan with Meghan a hundred times, polishing it and looking for flaws. Partly the delays were caused by arguments between the different divisions of the rebel army, but most of it was due to the generals refusing to listen to a word Iseult said. Women were never trained for warfare in Eileanan, and women who knew how to fight were regarded as unnatural as a lamb with two heads. The only country in which women warriors were common was Tirsoilleir, and the Berhtildes were generally regarded with horror due to their love of sacrifice and self-mutilation.

The fact that Iseult still had both her breasts reassured them slightly, but she had to defeat several of the rebel leaders before they would believe she really could fight. Cathmor the Nimble was the most agile of them all when it came to hand-to-hand combat, yet Iseult disarmed him with a few fierce, swift movements. Then Duncan Iron-fist stepped up with a jeer and a jest, and she somersaulted right over his head so he spun around, lost his balance and was knocked flat with a powerful blow of her foot. She downed three more in such rapid succession that the soldiers looked at her with awe and lined up to try their mettle against her.

She had gone to such lengths to prove herself that it was afternoon before she was able to rather wearily outline the plan of attack. With Meghan's map of Rionna-gan pinned to the side of the tent, Iseult demonstrated her points with her skewer, answering all the generals' objections with a patience most unnatural to her.

After sundown the cooks brought in stew and bread. As Iseult ate, she was pleased to hear the excitement in the soldiers' voices as they argued over the plan. By midnight they were all agreed and it was only the smaller details that still needed to be worked out. By two in the morning every leader knew exactly what he and his men were meant to do, and Iseult and Lachlan were being saluted with tankards of ale.

Like all successful military campaigns, it was a simple plan. Lachlan, Iseult and Duncan were to travel with a select group of soldiers down through the Whitelock Mountains to the forest behind Lucescere. From there they would infiltrate the city, relying on the beggar children to rouse the guild of thieves and make contact with rebel leaders already hiding out in the slums. The soldiers were to be called the Blue Guards, as Lachlan's father's bodyguard had been.

Jorge was to scry to one of the warlocks in the rebel camp in the Whitelock Mountains. There were close on five hundred rebels scattered throughout the south, and they would be secretly gathered on the far side of the Ban-Bharrach River. The remaining soldiery in the cor-rie would march through Rionnagan to infiltrate Lucescere from the north, led by Cathmor the Nimble. Thus the attack would come from three directions at once, with the gates to the city being opened by their allies within.

"Wha' about the Lodestar?" the soldiers all cried. "Once ye have the Lodestar in your hand, nothing will be able to withstand us!"

Lachlan had known this question would come, but had no intention of telling the soldiers that he and Iseult first had to recover the other two parts of the Key and join them into one before they could even hope to recover the lost orb. He said only that the Lodestar was hidden within Lucescere and could only be recovered with great difficulty. He also told them that the song of the Lodestar was dying, and the closer winter came the less likely they would be able to rescue the Lodestar in time. "Meghan o' the Beasts says it will die if it is no' found and touched," he said bleakly, "so we canna be relying on the Lodestar's powers."

As he and Iseult finally trudged to their tent, it was this last problem that occupied both their minds.

"Meghan said she would make contact with Isabeau and make sure she brought the other part o' the Key to Lucescere," Iseult said softly as she undressed. "Yet how are we to be sure Meghan got the message to her?"

"We canna," Lachlan replied in somber tones. "We canna be sure o' anything." Isabeau lay in the yellow grass, chewing on a straw, while Lasair cropped contentedly behind her. The sun on her arms was warm, but the wind off the sea was keen. She rolled over, looked up at the cloud-hazed sky and sighed. If it were not for her rides through the forest, she would have found her life in the palace this last month very difficult. Sani seemed always to be watching her, and Latifa was short-tempered and anxious.

Both Latifa and Isabeau had been very disturbed at the news of Meghan's capture. The idea that her beloved guardian was in the hands of the terrible Awl had distressed Isabeau greatly. If the Grand Questioner had tortured her so cruelly, what would they do to the Arch-Sorceress Meghan NicCuinn?

Meghan's true identity was as much a cause of Isa-beau's shock as the news of her capture. She had never known her as anything but Meghan of the Beasts. It had made her feel rather strange to know her guardian was a banprionnsa, descendant of Cuinn Lionheart himself.

In her heart she cursed the sorceress for her secrecy and lack of trust. Would she not have done things differently if she had known?

The old cook had been afraid not only for Meghan's safety but also for her own. She had been intimately connected with the rebellion for sixteen years and was one of Meghan's most useful spies. If under torture Meghan revealed the names of the witches and rebels she knew, Latifa was sure to be denounced.

A week later, however, word had come that the Arch-Sorceress had escaped. Gossip whispered of evil sorceries and strange beasts; all anyone knew for sure was that the Grand-Seeker Humbert had hung himself in his fine quarters on hearing the news. His successor, Grand-Seeker Renshaw, had his men beating the forests and hills around Lucescere, but there was no sign of Meghan. Isabeau had had to hide her excitement, pretending to be as frightened as the rest of the palace servants. She kept her head down and worked diligently, waiting for Meghan to contact her. Loneliness was seeping into her bones, despite the crowds that surrounded her every day. She wished she could have found a friend at the palace. All her life she had dreamed of a companion who felt as she did, a friend and confidante she could tell her secret heart to.

Isabeau scrambled to her feet and wandered along the seawall, looking out at the clear ripples of water creeping over the sand below. A few hundred yards along was a break in the bulwark where one could climb down to the sand dunes below. Although only two iron posts had rusted through, it was enough for Isabeau to squeeze her slim body through.

Isabeau swung easily down the ladder, though it was so long her arms were aching by the time the beach was finally beneath her feet. She sat, unlaced her boots and wiggled her toes in the sand. Shells and dried wisps of seaweed decorated the dunes, and she gathered some as she walked the long distance to the water's edge. A reef ran out into the sea, forming a small lagoon where the water was crystal clear and flickering with shoals of fish that gleamed with fluorescent lights. In seconds Isabeau was paddling in the foam. She kilted her skirts up through her belt so her legs were bare to the knee.
No one else would
come so near the seashore so there's no chance of anyone seeing,
she thought defiantly. Isabeau had been brought up so far from the coast that many of the stories she had heard about the sea's danger had had a fairy tale quality, not quite believable. She had no fear of water, having been taught to swim by otters as a very young child. Many of her contemporaries at the palace were too afraid to even duck their heads under the pump in case a Fairge's webbed hand should reach out and strangle them. Isabeau was rather contemptuous of such fears, though not so derisive that she would dare go deeper than her knees.

This lonely stretch of coastline was one of the few places on Eileanan where there were calm waters and a natural harbor. Across the river's mouth was a series of massive gates, joined by a sequence of canals. Within their shelter, the navy and merchant ships rested in the Berhtfane, safe from storm and invasion. The locks had been built by the witches in the time of Aedan Whitelock, after the end of the Second Fair-gean Wars. Meghan said they were an engineering triumph, allowing ships to be raised and lowered at will, but keeping the Fairgean out. The MacBrann of the time had designed them and overseen their building, and for four hundred-odd years they had not failed.