I’ve no mind to get a crick in my neck talking to you all.”
Eirik and Ciara sat, but Mairi went to the cabinet and opened it without saying anything. She stood for a moment inspecting the contents before pulling five intricately carved goblets out. She brought them to the table.
Boisin gave her an approving nod, and then poured wine into each goblet before placing it in front of one of them, leaving Lais’s near Mairi’s.
Ciara’s goblet had a wolf carved into one side and a woman holding a stone on the other. The carved lines that radiated out from the stone made it seem like the stone glowed near as bright at the sun.
She looked over to Eirik’s goblet and saw that it had a dragon carved all the way around it, but a raven was etched into its base. Mairi’s goblet also had a wolf, but the other side had a woman surrounded by the small animals of the forest.
She met Ciara’s eyes, her own filled with wonder. Then Mairi cast her glance toward Boisin. “How did you know?”
“About your affinity with the small creatures of the earth? I saw it, just as you saw me in dream after dream. I’ve been calling you to come and learn, lass, for years now.” He sighed. “But you could not come before this. It has all happened as it must.”
“What do you mean?” Ciara asked, feeling like she was in the presence of true wisdom.
“The little one’s journey ends here for now. I’ve much to teach her and not many years left to do it in.”
“She said she had to join the quest,” Lais said from the doorway. “The Faolchú Chridhe has not been found yet.”
Boisin took a sip of his wine and gave it an approving nod. “The quest brought her here, where she needs to be. ’Tis all.”
“But—”
“You’d best decide if you want a mate, or not, young eagle.” Boisin narrowed his eyes at Lais, his expression turning crafty. “I’ve got a grandson who would find this little girl lovely indeed.”
“Want is not the problem,” Mairi said softly when Lais looked ready for an apoplectic attack.
Boisin shook his head. “Ah, the boy does not feel worthy.”
“I am no boy.” Lais had finally found his voice.
Boisin did not appear impressed. “Son, when you’ve lived the years I have, you can call boy those you like.”
Lais opened his mouth to argue, but Mairi shoved a goblet of wine into his hands. “You must be thirsty after seeing to the horses. Take a drink.”
Looking bewildered, the eagle obeyed, but as he lowered the goblet, his eyes focused on the carving.
Lais’s goblet had a wolf with an eagle perched on its back. The other side had the Chrechte symbol for love and mating entwined as it often was in the markings used to signify a mating.
He studied the carving for several seconds in silence and then frowned at Boisin. “What does this mean?”
“It means that if you are man enough, your future can be brighter than you think you deserve.”
Lais shook his head, but did not reply. He moved to his usual spot…sentinel behind Mairi. Ciara noted that for the first time since she’d met the other woman, the young seer looked unworried by anything.
Boisin pointed a gnarled finger toward Ciara. “I’ve waited long enough for your arrival as well, child. I was beginning to think I would die before you answered the call of the stone.”
“I am sorry.” Heat stole into her cheeks as shame at her own cowardice engulfed her.
“You learned to fear your gifts before you learned to use them.” The understanding in the old man’s still bright gaze soothed the pain in Ciara’s heart. “’Tis understandable, but ’tis also reason for rejoicing that you are here now.”
“You know of my dreams.”
“I have a story to tell you, child. Will you listen?”
“Yes.” How could she do anything else?
Boisin cleared his throat, took a sip of wine, and then cleared his throat again. When he began to speak, it was in a voice that could mesmerize an entire clan.
“In the days before our people settled into homes of wood and farming, the Chrechte wandered the earth. We hunted for our food and gathered what the earth provided. Some years were bountiful, some lean, but always we waged war for the right to hunt in bigger territories. Much as the clans fight for bigger borders on their holdings today. In those days, there were three races of the Chrechte. The Faol, a