Chapter 14: Baiting a God

As the tinkling of the bells died, Bee stared over the bas-relief of the Five Kingdoms. Mountains and valleys. Forests and seas. All of it in minute detail, which she knew could only have been created through magical means. She wondered, as she always had when taking the time, if there were little versions of the people following their lives in miniature, too small for her to see; wondered if a tiny little Bee sat in the map room atop the pile of horse dung she could see poking out of the Great Forest.

Stop! Ye’re just avoiding the issues, so ye are, she thought.

“Do the alarms catch those leaving?” she asked as she climbed wearily to her feet.

“Yes. What are you intending?”

Bee stared at the Commander of Sliabh Culinn. It seemed she was being obtuse. What she saw in the Whitehead’s expression, though, was confusion—it appeared that the leader of Neit’s Maidens had no more idea than Bee about what was happening. She suddenly felt that Bairrfind was her only ally in Five Kingdoms stuffed full of enemies. At any other time, the irony would have made her laugh. Now, it just made her a little sad.

Shaking her head, she said, “I’ve to go after them.”

“How? You’ve no idea where they went,” Fis scoffed, his long fingers still steepled under his chin. Staring at him, Bee noticed for the first time that a stubbly fuzz occupied the area above where his fingers came together.

Tuatha forbid, he’s nothing but a boy. But he’s not wrong for all that.

“Won’t the portal glyphs tell me where?” she asked.

“I doubt he used them.”

Of course, she realized. He’s a Pathmaster.

Sinking back into her chair, Bee put her head in her hands and stared morosely at the map. She had a fair idea where the absconders were heading. They were going to find Lia Fáil. However, she had no idea where An Dagda had hidden the stone. No one had.

Probably not even Bren, she realized. The Chief would never have entrusted him with that information. So, if they’re not after the stone, where are they going? Unless.

Finger following the ridge of her scar, Bee had a sudden idea. If she knew one thing about her brother, it was that he lacked courage. Oh, he was a fair witch, almost as powerful as she was, but he was not a brave man. The idea that he could spend days under torture and not reveal his secrets was laughable. In all probability, when he told Árchú that he didn’t know where Lia Fáil was, he was not being brave but telling the truth. So, if, as she believed, The Smith was not who he claimed, there would be a good chance he was working with the Demon. His sudden appearance in the guardhouse under Breshlech had been suspicious, only straight after his excess violence, Bee’d not had time to think it through. One thing she thought to be certain was that Bren had to continue the story that he knew the stone’s whereabouts. He was probably leading the imposter on a fox hunt while searching for a way to escape.

“What do you know about this Dornálaí?” Bee asked.

“The Smith,” Bairrfind said, her eyes wide. “I thought everyone knew about Danu’s Three.”

“Is he The Smith, though?”

Rather than answer her, Bairrfind glanced at Fis. There was much in that veiled look that Bee found suspicious. It was as though The Whitehead was conspiring with her… her aide? Bee no more believed that than she believed Bren had withstood days of torture. It didn’t ring true that a woman of her experience would turn to a boy for advice.

Is she hiding something?

“I have been voicing the same concerns,” Fis said, strengthening Bee’s conviction that something else was happening. “He’s not… Um, how do I say it? Godly. He does not seem to be one of the Higher Tuatha.”

“He can’t be, if he’s a Pathmaster,” Bee spoke her thoughts aloud.

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“Why do you think he’s a Pathmaster?” Fis asked, his mouth turned down in scorn.

If the brat keeps this up, I’ll have his magairlí for earrings, so I will.

“I saw him open a wall with his fingers and lead us here without hesitating. What else could he be?”

“Did you, though, see him open the wall?” Bairrfind asked.

As Bee thought about the question, she realized she’d been in the cell, slumped against the wall, not watching Dornálaí. “How else did he get through the wall?”

Again, The Whitehead and her aide exchanged glances. Bee considered telling them she wasn’t as blind as they seemed to think, but decided it would appear petty, so she kept her peace. Eventually, Fis cleared his throat and said, “After destroying the Pathmasters, An Dagda realized there was a hole in his… um, assets, I suppose, there’s no better way to describe them.” The aide looked up to ensure Bee was following. His arrogance was starting to raise her temper. Keeping control somehow, she gave a curt nod for him to carry on. “To fill the hole, he ordered Danu’s Three to create tools so he could travel the paths freely, from wherever he chose. Together, they forged the Silver Dagger and created the Compass, but they told An Dagda they were unsuccessful—”

“All this that’s going on is Danu’s Three?” Bee interrupted. “It seems a push,” she continued, without much conviction, because now the dream on the plains made some sense. Credne told her to follow The Smith because they were allied in a coup to wrench control of the Fae Realm away from the rightful sovereigns.

“I know it is difficult to accept, but I can think of no better explanation,” Bairrfind said.

Something gave her pause. “How do you know this?”

Fis shook his head slightly, but Bairrfind overrode him. “Fis was Credne’s retainer. He heard them plotting. He tried to warn An Dagda and Danu, but they refused to believe him. He came here hoping I’d be able to stop the horde from escaping.”

And since he arrived, he created an alarm that sets a bell tinkling. Quaint, to say the least.

“So, that’s why ye’ve been suspecting Goibniu for some time.”

“Aye. When he first came, he was keen to help solve issues with the kingdoms. He set himself up as a ring fighter and infiltrated those who usurped Middle Kingdom’s throne. He took punishment to aid in creating a feasible story, and set about helping Tadg mac Cein at first, and then his son Ruirech. He did everything to convince me of what he said when he first arrived. Now, I suspect he was waiting for a chance.”

“And Árchú’s possessing the sage at the same time as Lia Fáil’s whereabouts becoming known was the ideal moment,” Bee mused.

Except I don’t believe Bren has any idea where the stone is. But The Smith doesn’t know that, and these lot don’t know that. And maybe I should keep it that way.

The other thing she would keep to herself was what nagged at Bee more than anything. Why did Goibniu bring them here? He could have taken them to any portal, not just in the Five Kingdoms, but anywhere. Why would he bring Bee to safety and then flee with her brother? Looking across the table, she could think of only one thing that might have changed his mind.

“How long have ye been here?” she asked Fis.

“Five or six moons. Why?”

“I was just curious about how long it took ye to make the portal alarm.”

Bee’s words caused the boy’s face to light up with glee. He was very proud of his work, it seemed. “No time at all. It was a trifle.”

“Ye’re being modest. It must have taken great skill.”

“Enough,” Bairrfind interjected. “We must decide what is to be done.”

Bee thought for several moments before responding. It was as Fis said, she had no idea where Goibniu had taken Bren. She suspected that their hissed conversation on the route to the horse turds was probably about possible destinations. She had to start with something she knew about Goibniu more than about her brother. The only thing she knew was that he spent many summers with the rebels in the Great Forest.

“I’ll go to this rebel Ruirech. Bairr, ye need to march on Breshlech and stop the Demon from doing whatever it’s up to. Or at least try.”

“Why are you going to Ruirech?” Bairrfind asked, her face once again clouded by confusion.

“Goibniu said he knew the rebel from a young age,” she said.

“Aye. He did.”

“I guess Ruirech might have some idea about where he’s gone.”

“Perhaps, but it would surprise me.”

Bee nodded because it would surprise her, too. She had to start somewhere, and somewhere close seemed a good place.

“I am coming with you,” Fis said, unsteepling his fingers for the first time. Bee shook her head emphatically. The last thing she wanted, or indeed, needed was taking care of some brat with hair on his face that looked like he’d stolen from a pig’s arse.

“I don’t really care whether I have your permission, Bechuille. I am coming.”

Bee frowned at the note of confidence in the boy’s tone. He didn’t sound like an untried youth. Still, she had no intentions of having him for company, regardless of his age.

“Ye’ll have to track me, because I don’t want—”

“I can see no other choice, Bee,” The Whitehead interrupted. Bee raised her eyebrows in question. “You must return to the Chief and tell him of the War Demon’s presence. I suspect if he becomes aware of Breshlech Mór, he will order the mustering of the Maidens.”

“D’ye not have the power to order it?” she asked, tilting her head and putting as much sarcasm into her tone as she could.

“I can order it, Bechuille. But do you not think baiting a God is too risky?”

“I’ll tell ye what I think, Bairr. I think if we don’t do something, and quickly, that we baited An Dagda’ll be the least of his worries, so it will. If Goibniu gets hold of Lia Fáil, then all is lost.”