Naamah's Blessing

white in his woad-marked face. “He is eager to meet with this distant kinswoman who has garnered such a name for herself and hear firsthand of your adventures.” He accorded Bao a second salute. “And to learn more of your esteemed husband and his distant homeland.”
    I hesitated.
    Courtesy dictated that I accept the invitation, and under ordinary circumstances, I would have been pleased to do so. We shared a common ancestress in Alais the Wise. Faolan mab Sibeal had a name for being a strong, just ruler, and I had not forgotten that he had sent a generous message of support and appreciation to King Daniel when he named me Desirée’s oath-sworn protector.
    But it would mean delaying my journey, like as not for days if the laws of hospitality governing the Cruarch’s table were honored. Itwould mean celebrating my homecoming and sharing my tale with strangers, when all I yearned for was my mother’s presence. I didn’t know how to extricate myself politely. All at once, I felt out of my element, and scarce older than the seventeen-year-old girl who had left these shores years ago.
    The Cruarch’s man saw my hesitation. “It is an invitation,” he said gently. “Not a command.”
    “His majesty would not take it amiss if I decline?” I asked.
    He shook his head. “The invitation stands. You are welcome in the halls of Bryn Gorrydum at any time.”
    I smiled again, this time with relief. “Tell his majesty I am most grateful, and we will surely avail ourselves of his hospitality when next we return to his city.” My
diadh-anam
flickered within me in a silent reminder, and I glanced sidelong at Bao. “But I fear we have pressing business among the Maghuin Dhonn at this time.”
    He bowed again, beckoning to his retinue. “I will do so, my lady.”
    “Do you reckon I was right to refuse his offer?” I asked Bao when the fellow and his men had departed.
    Bao gave me a wry look. “I barely understood a word out of the man’s mouth, Moirin. It’s going to take me a while to master the Alban tongue. It’s a tricky one.”
    “Ah, gods!” I said in chagrin, reminded all over again at how much he’d given up for me. We’d been practicing on the journey, but in my excitement on reaching Alban soil, I’d forgotten it wasn’t his mother-tongue, too. “I’m sorry.”
    “Don’t be.” Bao touched my cheek, eyes glinting with affection. “No matter what happens, I have no regrets.”
    It heartened me. “No?”
    “None,” Bao affirmed. “I swear it.”
    The sailors finished the task of unloading our horses and baggage, and the ship’s captain wished us good passage. We were left undisturbed in the harbor while we set about the task of saddling our mounts and arranging our gear on the pack-horses.
    It was a fine day, the sky a pale blue overhead, streaked with thin,scudding clouds. A light breeze skirled around us, capricious and whimsical, now carrying the tang of saltwater and spray from the ocean, now the odors of hewn stone, horse-dung, and the press of humanity from the streets of Bryn Gorrydum.
    And then it switched again as I swung myself astride my mount, coming from the west and carrying a hint of deep green forests and sunlit meadows to my nostrils. A familiar scent, the scent of my childhood.
    Lifting my head, I inhaled deeply.
    My heart beat faster.
    “Mother?” I said softly. The teasing wind caressed my skin, tugged at my hair. Feeling only a little bit foolish, I cleared my throat and called her name aloud, speaking it to the wind. “Fainche mac Eithne! Your daughter has returned, and is bound for the hollow hill and the stone doorway. There, I will meet you.”
    The wind spun away, carrying my words with it. Bao and I exchanged a single wordless glance.
    We rode.

EIGHTY-SIX

    W hen first I had ventured to the hollow hill, it had seemed such a very long journey. Of course, I had been half out of my mind with grief, Cillian’s death fresh on my mind, travelling on foot.
    This journey passed swiftly.
    Our long-legged mounts ate up the leagues with swift strides, rendering the green isle of Alba smaller than I remembered it. And indeed, after the vast tracts of land I had traversed, it was a small realm.
    Even so, the wild spaces were a joy to me. Following the ancient markers, we travelled over hill and dale, through forest and meadow, keeping to
taisgaidh
paths and summoning the twilight to avoid the notice of fellow travellers. I hunted and foraged, sharing my earliest