Now her sister sat opposite, staring at her with the same troubled fascination. She had a thin scar on either cheek, but otherwise she looked exactly how Isabeau had looked a year earlier—a faded tam-o’-shanter crammed over bright curls, a torn shirt and shabby breeches, two long-fingered, capable-looking hands.
It was not that Isabeau could think of nothing to say to her twin. Since Gitâ had mentioned her mirror-face, Isabeau’s brain had been whirling with questions. At this moment, though, she was content just to stare at her familiar yet strange face, to feel the connection between them.
Lachlan cut short Finn’s explanations with a chopping gesture. ‘Glad as I am to see ye, Finn, we canna be wasting any more time. I need to see Jaspar—now!’
Isabeau tore her eyes away from Iseult’s face and looked at Lachlan. She had barely noticed him before, all her attention absorbed by her twin. She recognised him at once, even in the uncertain light of the fire.
‘Bacaiche?’ she whispered. Colour swept into her cheeks. She remembered how she had rescued him from the Awl, and had been hunted and tortured as a result. Worse, he was the lover of her dreams, the one who came most often.
Lachlan coloured also. A sullen expression settled over his face. He said haltingly, ‘I be sorry, Isabeau, I did no’ ken who ye were … We heard about your hand and everything …’
Isabeau looked down at her linen-swathed hand. Bitter tears stung her eyes. She glanced up at him. ‘Ye could have trusted me. If I had known … things might have been different.’
Lachlan scowled. ‘I thought I was doing ye a favour, all right? As far as I knew ye were just some country lass who’d made the mistake o’ getting mixed up in the Awl’s business. I dinna ken they were going to track ye down … Besides, I never asked ye to rescue me.’
Isabeau flushed red with indignation. She opened her mouth to argue, but Iseult said sarcastically, ‘Lachlan, we do no’ have time to chat now, ye know we do no’. Can ye save the pleasantries for later?’
Isabeau’s eyes had widened at Iseult’s accent, which was none she recognised. Her twin looked at her, colour rising also, and said, ‘Isabeau.’
‘… Iseult?’
Iseult nodded. She took a deep breath and said, ‘We have so much to talk about. I ken ye have been away for months and do no’ know anything about me or how Meghan found me …’
‘Why did she no’ tell me?’ Resentment welled up in Isabeau.
‘I do no’ know,’ Iseult replied.
Lachlan laughed harshly. ‘Ye lived with my great-aunt all those years and ye can ask such a question?’
Isabeau flashed him a look. ‘She does like to keep secrets,’ she admitted. ‘But surely this was no’ her secret to keep? She knows how I have always longed for kin o’ my own … ’ Her voice broke slightly.
‘She trusts no-one,’ Iseult said. ‘No’ even Lachlan or me.’
Now Isabeau looked at her twin with jealousy and resentment. ‘Or me, her ward and apprentice?’ she asked harshly. ‘She only raised me as her own.’
‘She trusts no-one,’ Iseult replied, colouring up again. ‘I suppose she has been betrayed before—and no’ all betrayals are on purpose. I know she trusted ye as much as she trusted anyone.’
‘Even ye and … Lachlan?’ Isabeau frowned, knowing the name Lachlan should mean something to her.
Lachlan and Iseult exchanged glances. ‘This is no’ the way we were meant to meet,’ Iseult said. ‘There is so much we all do no’ understand about each other yet. We do no’ have time, though, to talk and tell each other all the things we want to know. Firstly, does the Rìgh still live?’
‘If he lasts the night, it will be a miracle,’ Isabeau answered. ‘Twice now I have kept him breathing when he could not breathe for himself. Meghan begged me to keep him alive until after Samhain and I have done my best.’
‘Meghan! Ye’ve seen Meghan!’
‘No’ seen, spoken to.’ She told them quickly about her accidental scrying to her guardian.
‘I am Jaspar’s brother,’ Lachlan said. ‘I was ensorcelled by the Banrìgh and have no’ seen him for thirteen years. I must see him before he dies! Ye must help us.’
They heard the scrape of a door and the sound of heavy footsteps. Lachlan stepped back into the gloom of the corner, beckoning to the others, his hand drawing the cloak up to muffle his face. Quick as a thought Iseult was beside him, her dagger drawn, but Finn had only time to draw her hood over her head.
An immensely fat woman bustled in, keys clinking at her waist, her eyes almost lost in red and swollen eyelids. ‘Isabeau, I’m afraid … the Rìgh is sinking. His pulse seems so faint, and we can barely rouse him to confirm the settlements. Have ye any more mithuan?’
‘It may make his heart flutter too fast …’
‘Isabeau, he’s dying! Nothing can save him now! We must make sure everything is in order. Just a little mithuan—just so he can say what he needs to, and sign the papers and make sure all is well for the babe. For the babe, Isabeau!’
‘I’ll need to mix some up, Latifa, I had no’ planned on giving him any more. I will no’ be more than a moment.’
The cook nodded and sighed hugely. ‘Be quick, lassie, we are afraid he will slip away before we have everything settled.’
She turned and went out the door, not noticing Lachlan and Iseult backed against the wall. To Isabeau, they were as clear as if it were daylight, but she remembered that her eyesight had always been abnormally sharp.
Lachlan came out of his corner like an arrow from a bow. ‘He is declaring the baby heir? I knew it! I knew it!’
‘We only have a few minutes, tell me what ye can,’ Isabeau said. ‘I seem to know nothing whatsoever.’ Her voice was harsh. Lachlan objected, and she said calmly, ‘There are half a dozen guards within calling distance, Bacaiche. If ye want my help, I suggest ye tell me all ye know for I will no’ help ye otherwise. I remember ye only as the man who stole my witch knife.’
Hurriedly he told her about their plan to retrieve the Lodestar and how its song had grown so faint Meghan said the only way to revive it was to wash it in the Pool of Two Moons at the hour of its birth.
‘Aedan Whitelock wrought the Lodestar during a full eclipse o’ the moons,’ he said. ‘Meghan is convinced there will be another eclipse tomorrow night.’
‘The time o’ the two moons crossing,’ Isabeau murmured.
He nodded and told her he had only just heard the news of the baby’s birth and Jaspar’s declining health. Meghan had forbidden him to confront the Rìgh and Banrìgh until the Lodestar was safe and restored, but none of them had expected Jaspar to die so soon. ‘He’s only ten years aulder than me,’ Lachlan said with tears in his eyes. ‘He’s no’ even thirty-five yet.’
‘Ye want to see the Rìgh?’ Isabeau said, making her decision. ‘He lies in the room just beyond, with the Banrìgh at his side and the chancellor and councillors, and probably the Grand-Seeker too. The only way ye’ll be able to speak with him is if they do no’ ken ye are there—unless, o’ course, ye want to have the Red Guards swarming all round! Ye’ll have to wrap yourself in Finn’s cloak o’ invisibility. Do ye see? The bed is against one wall—I’ll take ye in …’
‘What about me? How will ye conceal me?’ Iseult said.
‘Ye’ll have to wait out here with Finn …’
‘No!’ Iseult cried, then added more reasonably. ‘I canna risk Lachlan so, I must be there to guard him and make sure he is safe.’
Isabeau looked at her in some amazement. ‘I am a Scarred Warrior,’ Iseult explained. ‘And Lachlan is my husband …’ Unconsciously her hand dropped to her abdomen, pulling the loose shirt against the bulge.
Isabeau looked from her to Lachlan, her colour fluctuating. Then she bit her lip and began stripping off her apron, saying to Lachlan, ‘Can ye turn away? I will no’ get undressed with ye watching, brother-in-law though ye may be.’ She was conscious of a cold knot in her stomach, but that could have been fear. ‘Quick, Iseu
lt, ye’ll have to give me your clothes else I’ll freeze.’
‘But … why?’
‘Iseult, ye will have to pretend to be me. They have no idea there are two o’ us so no-one should suspect a thing.’ They swapped clothes and dressed again hurriedly, because even by the fire it was cold. ‘Tell them all to leave ye with the Rìgh while ye tend him. Try no’ to speak with such a strong accent, else ye’ll give the game away. Give him some o’ the mithuan, a mouthful or two, no more else ye’ll kill him. Pull the curtains round the bed to shield him from their eyes, then keep watch while Lachlan talks to him. The mithuan will rouse him and he should be clear-headed enough.’ She hesitated, then slowly unwound the bandages from her left hand. ‘Here. Bind up your hand.’
Isabeau’s hand was horribly scarred and maimed. Her smallest two fingers were missing, great red pits where they had been. The other fingers were stiff and bent at odd angles, her thumb hanging uselessly. They all drew in breath at the sight of it, and she closed her other hand about it protectively. ‘Go. Be careful,’ she said and turned away from them into the shadows.
Iseult knelt by the side of the great bed and helped the Rìgh sit up. He swallowed a mouthful of the mithuan, coughing a little as the bitter potion burnt his throat. Under her fingers his pulse leapt erratically.
Iseult made sure the Rìgh was screened from the group clustered around the fire, then gave a small nod. Lachlan’s figure emerged from the shadows as he unclasped the cloak and let it fall. He shook out his wings and bent over the wasted figure of his brother. ‘Jaspar,’ he whispered.
The Rìgh turned his head and smiled faintly. ‘Lachlan.’
There was silence for a moment, then Lachlan knelt beside the bed, his face pressed against his brother’s arm. His voice was incoherent, but at last he managed to say, ‘Ye know it is me?’
‘Lachlan,’ the Rìgh said again. His voice was so weak they could hardly hear it, even bending so close over the bed. ‘O’ course I know it is ye. Ye’ve troubled my dreams for years, ye and Donncan and Feargus. My nights seethe now with the faces o’ those I have loved. And lost. Soon I shall be with ye.’
‘Nay, Jaspar, I’m alive. I’m with ye now. Feel my hand.’ He grasped the Rìgh’s thin cold hand in his big warm one. The frail fingers stirred. ‘Your hand is warm,’ the Rìgh said with an inflection of surprise. ‘Am I so close to the world o’ the dead that ye should feel so alive?’
‘Nay, Jaspar, ye are alive too, we are both alive. Look at me, Jaspar. Canna ye see that I live? Feel my breath on your face, the pulse in my wrist.’
‘Lachlan,’ the Rìgh said dreamily. ‘Where did ye go? Ye’ve been gone so many years.’
Lachlan’s whole body stiffened. ‘I was ensorcelled, Jaspar. Look at me. See my wings, see my talons. All this was the result o’ a spell.’
‘A spell? There are no spells any more, Lachlan.’ He sighed. ‘No magic. No witchcraft. All gone.’
‘So they say,’ Lachlan said bitterly. ‘But there are witches still, Jaspar. Your wife is one!’ Despite his attempt at self-control, he spat the words out.
‘My wife is one,’ Jaspar repeated. ‘My wife …’ He seemed to dream. Then he said, in such a clear voice that Iseult cast a glance over her shoulder, ‘No, Lachlan, ye canna be thinking! Maya is no witch. Maya is the only one …’
‘Jaspar, it was Maya that cast the spell on me, Maya that turned me into this hideous half man, half bird. She tried to kill me, Jaspar, and she did kill our brothers. I saw her do it! Ye must believe me!’ His voice was rising and Iseult made discreet shushing motions. He lowered his voice. ‘Jaspar, ye know it is me, do ye no’? Hold my hand. Ye ken it is I, Lachlan, your brother?’
‘Yes. Lachlan. So good to see ye, my brother. I thought ye were dead.’
‘I almost died, Jaspar, if she had had her way I’d be dead. Maya is no’ who ye think. She is no human woman, I swear to ye. She does no’ love ye …’
‘My Maya,’ Jaspar said, smiling. ‘She is the only one to love me, the only one to stand by me.’
‘No, Jaspar, she has ensorcelled ye! Ye lie here dying because she has ensorcelled ye. Canna ye see she is a murderess?’
‘Murderess? Who?’
‘Maya, o’ course,’ Lachlan said with barely controlled impatience. ‘Your wife. She has done nothing but evil since she came to our country, Jaspar. Do ye no’ understand?’
‘No, Lachlan. It is ye who do no’ understand. Maya is the only one to love me and no’ betray me. Ye all left me …’
‘She made us leave ye! She’s the one who kept us apart. She turned me into a bird, Jaspar, a bird! And set her hawk on us. She murdered Donncan and Feargus.’
Iseult glanced over her shoulder again and saw the eyes of the beautiful woman in red were fixed upon the bed. She was frowning slightly.
‘Please believe him,’ she whispered hurriedly to the Rìgh. ‘He really is your brother and he is speaking the truth.’
The Rìgh’s dark unfocused eyes moved her way. ‘Is that ye, Red? What are ye doing in my dreams? Or are ye real?’
‘I am real, Your Highness, and so is Lachlan.’
‘I can hear voices in my head. I canna tell what is real and what is no’.’
‘I am real, Your Highness, and so is Lachlan. We are both here and we are both alive. Trust us.’
‘Lachlan …’
‘Yes, Jaspar?’
‘Let me feel your hand again.’
The two brothers clasped hands. Lachlan’s cheeks were wet. ‘Do no’ die, Jaspar,’ he whispered. ‘Live! We can fight the Fairgean together. We’ll rescue the Lodestar and renew it, we’ll …’
‘The Lodestar is gone,’ Jaspar said so loudly that several of the people around the fire looked up, and the Banrìgh rose to her feet.
‘Quickly!’ Iseult hissed.
‘No, Jaspar, it’s all lies, all lies that she’s told ye. Please listen to me …’
‘Red, what do ye do?’ the Banrìgh called. ‘Ye take so long, is all well?’
‘Aye, Your Highness,’ Iseult said, mimicking Isabeau’s voice as best she could. ‘Just a few more minutes.’
‘It is late …’
‘I will no’ be long, Your Highness.’ She saw Latifa look up, puzzled, and bent her head over the Rìgh so the old cook would not wonder what was wrong.
Lachlan was whispering, ‘Can ye no’ see my wings? See how my body has been ruined? She turned me into a black-bird and set her hawk upon me. They are Fairgean, Jaspar, and it is all a trick, a scheme to destroy our power and win back the coastlands for themselves.’
Jaspar said hazily, ‘Your face is swimming. I feel strange.’
In desperation Iseult gave him another mouthful of mithuan. It was two hours past midnight, and they had not much time.
‘She is an evil sorceress, Jaspar, who cast such a spell on ye that ye turned against your friends and family! Ye must see she is evil!’
Jaspar was distressed. ‘No, Lachlan, how can ye say such things? Nay, ye’ve taken a notion into your head and let it take root there, growing bizarre fruit. Maya is good and kind; she looks after me and does her best to care for the people.’
‘Then why is the country in revolt? Why do people disappear from their beds at night, never to be seen again? Why is there so much murder and torture?’
Jaspar was shaking his head, his lips so white they were invisible. ‘Evil people …’
‘It is Maya who is evil!’ Lachlan’s voice rang out. Iseult heard the waiting courtiers murmur and shuffle, and slipped her hand into the pocket of the apron, where she had hidden her reil. ‘Her and that babe o’ hers! She ensorcelled the babe into being, Jaspar. She used the comet to cast a spell o’ such strength … How could ye no’ know it? How can ye still think she is good and kind when she is a foul, scheming, murdering …’
‘Maya is my wife,’ Jaspar said with tremulous dignity. ‘I think ye forget yourself, Lachlan.’
There was a step behind Iseult, and she flash
ed a warning glance at Lachlan who hurriedly draped the cloak about him, dragging the hood over his head. As he disappeared from view, Jaspar sighed and moved his head restlessly. Then there was a cool hand on Iseult’s shoulder and the Banrìgh stepped past her to lean over and kiss the Rìgh on his forehead. ‘What is wrong, my darling? I heard ye cry out.’
Jaspar gripped her hand, tears leaking from his eyes. ‘Maya, Lachlan was here, he was here! I saw him. Did I no’, Red? Ye saw him too.’
Iseult bowed her head and said nothing, conscious of those dark-lashed silvery-blue eyes looking her over. Maya said, ‘It was only a dream, my darling, only a dream. Come, we have the papers all ready, we have done as ye instructed.’ She gave a light laugh. ‘We have even named your cousin Dughall as the next in line, as ye requested, though he says he will no’ renounce his father’s name …’
‘Maya, he was here. I saw him. He had wings and claws …’
The Banrìgh stiffened all over, her pupils dilating. ‘I fear the Rìgh wanders in nightmare,’ she said loudly. ‘Red, canna ye help him?’
‘I dare no’ give him more mithuan,’ Iseult said, moving around the other side of the bed, her hand upon her reil.
‘Ye must. He must sign the papers. Give it to him now.’ There was steel behind the silken voice, and the Banrìgh gestured imperiously to the councillors to bring the scrolls and royal seal.
‘Aye, Your Highness,’ Iseult said and lifted the Rìgh’s head to trickle a few more drops of the potion in. His eyelids flickered and he swallowed.
They clustered around the bed. A few wept—the man in black velvet and jewels, a tiny old man with bags under his eyes. He was the one to spread the papers out before the Rìgh and to place the quill into his trembling hand. ‘Your will and dispositions, Your Highness. Drawn up as ye requested. The Banprionnsa Bronwen Mathilde MacCuinn will inherit, but her mother will act as Regent until she comes o’ age at twenty-four. Sign here, my laird, and here.’
As the frail fingers tightened around the quill and the Rìgh lifted himself in the bed, Lachlan seized the papers and threw them across the room. At least, Iseult assumed it was Lachlan for all she could see were the flying papers. Everyone gasped and looked around nervously, fully aware it was Samhain, night o’ the dead, when ghosts flew and banshees wept.