Had they reached over the big table for seconds? Had children pushed peas around on their plates hoping they’d somehow disappear?
Her father would have eaten here, as she would have. And her mother, she realized.
They’d been a family once.
Now they sat, another kind of family, not to eat and talk about the day to come or the day that passed, but how to defeat a god hell-bent on destroying them.
Instead of its candlestands and serving dishes, the sideboard held rolls of maps. Rather than sitting at the head of the long table, Keegan stood, the sword still strapped to his side.
“All in Talamh know of the Welcoming Tree, and the portal to the other side through Ireland. By law and tradition, because we were once part of that world, that place, any in Talamh may pass through there.
“All in Talamh,” Keegan continued, “since Odran took the child Breen was, know of the portal through the great falls that leads to the world he conquered and claims as his own. By law, this portal was sealed, and is closed and forbidden. And we know through blood sacrifice and black magicks, Yseult breached that portal. With the help of the Pious in the south, Odran was able to create a portal from his world to ours, and that we closed and sealed. These two we guard as they lead only to Odran’s world. Breen’s seen Yseult’s efforts to break through the portal in the falls.”
“Yes.” She spoke up because he looked at her. “Twice now. The first time I—somehow—went there—as they were about to sacrifice the young girl.”
“And so you stopped them, and Sedric went through and brought her back safe. But Yseult used the breach we hadn’t found to take Shana through to Odran. And in seeing this, as you saw the other, we knew where to find the breach, so sealed it.”
“I won’t forget that part anytime soon. But today I saw Yseult on the other side of the falls. They’re sacrificing their own now to work the spell, to compromise the seal.”
“I don’t doubt this is true, and they would kill their own without question, but I don’t think he plans to come at us that way.”
“From the south again?”
Keegan shook his head at Mahon. “Where we sealed again, and guard, and have, like the falls, concentrated forces.”
“He can’t use the Welcoming Tree,” Harken pointed out. “He still has no way into that world, and even Odran can’t break that ancient spell. Nothing passes through—from here or from there—that intends harm.”
“He only has those two ways.” Morena held up a finger on her right hand. “The south.” Then one on her left. “The falls.”
“There are other portals.”
“Aye, but none that lead to Odran’s world, and none all in Talamh know. To use any but the Welcoming Tree, you have to get permission from the taoiseach. If granted,” Morena continued, “you’re bespelled so the location is hidden from your mind. For the safety of all, for this very reason.”
“For this reason,” Keegan agreed. “So none taken by Odran, none who choose to join him can give him another way, another world to conquer and destroy. And before Odran, it was tradition. The taoiseach has this knowledge, and holds it.”
“Since you wouldn’t have told him, he has no way to know…” Morena trailed off. “Gods, Keegan, you didn’t tell Shana?”
“What do you take me for?” Rather than a sting, his words carried weariness. “But the council, as it advises, as it helps craft the laws, as it is sworn to duty to Talamh and its safety, knows. It’s a sacred trust, and such matters are never to go beyond the council room.
“But Uwin is an indulgent father, and Shana a clever daughter. I used the mirror to speak with my mother, and she’ll ask him. He won’t lie. She’d know if he did, but he won’t. If he told her, he did so because he believed I’d pledge with her, and that she would sit at the council table one day.”
He turned away a moment to look out the window, the fields flowing toward the hills, the hills rolling toward the mountains, the mountains reaching for the sky.
“I don’t excuse him for it, though I understand it. And by law if he hadn’t resigned, he would be removed from the council. And I must send him and Shana’s mother from the Capital, where they’ve both served and honorably, for all their lives.”
“This is not for you to carry.”
He turned back at Marg’s cool tone.
“Who else then?”
“He chose, and wrongly. I am a mother who loved her child more than my life. Yet I never spoke of council business with my son, a clever boy indeed, until he himself was taoiseach. You love your brother, your sister, and this one here who is another brother to you. Yet you have never spoken of these things, never broken your oath to indulge them.”