Crystal Dreams Page 21

  “My uncle is looking for me.” Bronnia cringed back behind Liandra.

  With bated breath they both watched as the tall, thin man swept his gaze around the orchard. But it seemed the shadows beneath the tree concealed them. He walked away, the swiftness of his gait reflecting the anger within.

  “You'd better return. Tell your uncle where you were."

  Bronnia hunched over, terror radiating from her. “Cannot."

  Liandra frowned. “I'll look for Heather, but you must return home."

  “Promise find Heather?"

  “I promise. I have ways of finding lost things."

  “Except our missing clans-man,” Jenna snapped.

  Liandra groaned inwardly. “How long have you been there?"

  Jenna smiled. “Long enough. I wondered how long it would be before you and she joined forces. Like attracts like. Witch and brat."

  Bronnia's thin fingers bit into Liandra's arm. What had Jenna done to the child to make her so afraid? Liandra jumped to her feet. “I don't like it when you call me witch. I never have, in fact!"

  “I am so sorry to offend you. Still, your presence offends us all, particularly me. Get inside brat! Your uncle seeks you."

  Bronnia clung to Liandra's leg.

  “Did you not hear me?” Jenna stepped forward, hand raised.

  “If you touch her, I'll be very angry."

  Jenna smiled. “What will you do to me? Turn me into a toad?"

  “That wouldn't be so hard to do, given your disposition,” Liandra remarked, dryly.

  “Why you bitch!"

  “Have a care, Maera Jenna. You may think I'm defenseless, but if you push me further, you'll find out that you've underestimated me.” Liandra rarely used her best, most intimidating counselor's voice. It had the desired effect. Jenna retreated a step.

  “Go, Bronnia. I'll find Heather and bring her to you. Quickly."

  Bronnia scampered away and once the child disappeared into the Castle, Liandra turned to Jenna. “Understand this, Maera. If you take out your anger upon that child, you'll be very sorry."

  “When Connal returns this day, he shall be the one making you sorry, for threatening me and for consorting with that abomination."

  “We'll see about that. Get away from me, Mistress, before I put the sleeping-spell on you!” Liandra hissed.

  Jenna picked up her skirts and fled.

  * * * *

  Liandra found the doll, on the outskirts of the orchard, beneath a layer of leaves. It had taken her most of the day, as she only had the faint remnants of Bronnia's aura on which to focus. Simple surface probings had yielded no result, so as a last resort, she had sent herself into deep meditation.

  Weakened, but victorious she clutched the doll. She stared down at the battered, muddied toy, disbelieving that anyone could covet such a monstrosity. It said much for Bronnia and very little for her kinsman that she was reduced to loving such a thing.

  By the time she retraced her steps, it was early evening, and cold. Her feet felt like ice, and her saturated slippers squelched as she walked across the dew-laden grass.

  “There she be!” A shout behind her, and Liandra spun about. A party of men carrying torches intercepted her. Looking over their shoulders she could see other people, in groups of two or three, carrying light-sticks. In the distance there were others on horseback swarming over the countryside.

  “What's happened?” Liandra asked.

  “The witch is here!"

  “Of course I am—"

  Before Liandra could say more, one of the men grabbed her roughly by the arm. His comrades closed in on her as she was dragged along.

  “What's...?"

  “Shut your mouth, witch!"

  “I won't."

  The man's fingers bit into her arm, sinew scraped against bone painfully and as she went to protest the pressure increased. She kept silent.

  Marched with military precision into the dining hall, Liandra saw Connal and several men bent over a table, studying a large piece of paper. Ranald, wringing his hands, stood watching the proceedings.

  “Here she be, My Lord!"

  As Liandra was pushed forward, Connal turned to her. “Did I not say that the next time you tried to escape the Castle, I would make you sorry? Come with me!"

  Before Liandra could speak, Bronnia dashed out from a hiding place in the hall.

  “Arran's Mercy, child!” Connal flung out a restraining hand.

  Ignoring him, Bronnia raced up to Liandra. “You come back!” she cried.

  Liandra knelt down and drew out the dirty, bedraggled doll from beneath her shawl. “See, here she is. I promised didn't I?"

  “Thank you, Mistress Liandra,” Bronnia whispered.

  “You and I are friends, aren't we? That means you have to call me Liandra."

  Bronnia's eyes swam with tears.

  Connal went down on one knee. He reached out and turned Bronnia to him. “What have you there, child?"

  “My Dolly! Was lost! She found! See!"

  He recoiled a few inches as the grimy doll was thrust to his face. “The witch found it did, did she?” Connal's voice and face were suddenly soft.

  “Liandra, not witch. She friend."

  Connal raised a dark brow as he regarded the child. “Och, I stand corrected, then."

  Liandra stared at Connal's tender regard of Bronnia. What a revelation that he could be so taken with a child.

  He tousled the child's unruly locks. “Then best you look after your dolly more carefully in the future. The wit—your friend has more important things to do than search for lost property. Now away with you!"

  “Thank you for finding Heather,” Bronnia said, smiling up at Liandra before scampering away.

  Connal stood up. “Everyone, go about your business.” He took Liandra's shoulder. “It seems I owe you an apology."

  “Did you think I'd run away again?” She smiled grimly. “I'm not so enamored of drudgery that I'd risk another of your punishments, Connal MacArran."

  He smiled; his eyes warm as he regarded her. “Meet me in my chambers within the hour. I have the Council's response to your petition."

  “Tell me now."

  “All in due course, Liandra. Get out of those wet clothes before you catch your death. I have other business to attend to. So patience, please."

  “Easy for you to say, Lord MacArran."

  “Patience be a virtue, counselor."

  “Not one I'm well versed in."

  “So I gather. The longer you stand here arguing with me, the longer it will be for you to have your news."

  Liandra pursed her lips. Insufferable! You're so insufferable, especially when you're right! She turned on her heel and stalked from the chamber.

  * * * *

  Liandra tapped lightly on Connal's door and waited for his command to enter.

  “Connal...” she began and then halted as she saw he had the company of two other men, sitting at his desk. “I'm sorry, I didn't know you were busy.” She turned to leave.

  “No, enter. My guests are here to see you,” Connal said.

  Liandra stepped forward, suddenly nervous. The men, one of about Connal's age and the other of the same vintage as Dougall, regarded her with unfriendly eyes. She drew the heavy plaid shawl around her body, pleased for its thickness. Her suit offered little protection against such fierce perusal.

  “Liandra, this is Douglas MacLachlan and Andrew MacTiernan."

  She nodded to the older MacLachlan chieftain before acknowledging the younger.

  “This is the witch?” Andrew MacTiernan asked.

  “Counselor Tavor,” Connal corrected, icily.

  Liandra glanced at him. He was the first one to call her “witch", now when someone else did, she saw he didn't like it.

  “Will you sit, Liandra?” He waved her to a chair in front of his desk. Resuming his own chair, he drew out a rolled piece of paper from an official looking leather satchel. “We debated long and hard over your petition to
us."

  “Aye, wasting time with such when we had more important tasks before us!” MacLachlan hissed.

  Connal shrugged. “The law is the law, no matter whom..."

  “Or what petitions us?” MacLachlan regarded her angrily.

  “I'm not a what, I'm a sentient being and..."

  “Liandra, there is no question you are flesh and blood. Here.” Connal held out the parchment and she took it from him.

  Her hands shook so much she could hardly unroll the paper. It was almost a work of art, with its long, flowery script and elaborate signatures and seals of all the men who had witnessed it. “You know I can't read."

  “Study it in your own way, to see that every Council member has attested his seal to it. Understand well, Liandra, we did not take your petition lightly."

  Andrew MacTiernan moved noisily in his chair and Connal's eyes narrowed as he glanced at him.

  Liandra studied the paper. There were many auras attached to the parchment; Connal's the most vibrant.

  “Will you read it for me, please, My Lord?"

  “I shall.” Taking the document from her, he cleared his throat. “Castle MacLachlan, Twentieth day, Tenth month, Year 709. We the undersigned having duly considered the petition of Liandra Tavor do, hereby give the said applicant notice, verily, that her petition is dismissed."

  “Dismissed, just like that? No reason..."

  “Because, witch, this is MacArran business,” MacLachlan said. “As head of the Council, Connal did argue most judiciously on your behalf. However, we agreed since you are under his protective custody for the reasons he has explained to you previously, it is he, and he alone who decides your fate. Understand this, if it were not for his guardianship, we would have been moved to dispose of you in a more permanent fashion. We want no off-worlder contaminating our soil. Connal assures us that he can look after you, and we know his mettle. ’Tis the only reason you still live."

  Liandra stood up, her eyes never leaving Connal. “You'd kill me for being here, even though I didn't come willingly?"

  MacLachlan waved his hand dismissively. “We gave due weight to the circumstances. Connal brought you here, so you are his responsibility. Should you leave County MacArran without your Lord's leave, you have lost his protection. Anyone finding you has the right to execute you. Drowning is as good as any means to dispatch a witch."

  Liandra looked from one to the other. “This is barbarous! You condone this?” she demanded of Connal.

  He spread his hands. “You sought the determination of the Council. You now have it. If it is not to your liking, I am sorry. You cannot have it both ways, Liandra."

  “This isn't fair. Not only am I a prisoner, I'm to be killed if I wander too far from home?"

  Connal's heart skipped a beat. Home... She had called his castle home!

  “You have the understanding of it, witch.” MacLachlan snapped.

  “Don't call me witch, you accursed barbarian!"

  “Counselor Tavor...” Connal began.

  “Spare me your pleasantries, Lord MacArran. I'm the alien-witch, and always I will be to everyone on your miserable, archaic world. Well, so be it. I have my answer, and thank you for the gentle eloquence with which you delivered my death sentence."

  She turned on her heel and strode to the door. Taking a leaf from Jenna's book she slammed it shut, satisfied to feel the doorjamb and surrounding corridor shudder with the force of her temper. Just for that moment she wished she truly was a witch. She would turn each man into an Olatian bloodworm, or something even worse!

  * * * *

  Liandra returned to her cleaning with a vengeance, exorcising her temper on the wood, the stone work, anything. Keeping to the shadows and disappearing when any came by, her constant companion was Bronnia. Though often more a hindrance, the child assisted her with the work.

  “Well, what a surprise! The two witches together, again!” Vanora hissed. “Wasting time as usual, Tavor! I see my duty list does not keep you fully occupied for you still have time to waste on that brat. Well, another task for you to complete before this day is out. You may scrub the entire length of this passageway."

  Liandra pursed her lips. Two days ago, with her shunning lifted, she had protested the amount of work required of her, especially when it seemed, in comparison, some of the other women did very little. In retaliation, Vanora gave her the chore of cleaning out a top-most tower. A place untouched for years, it had become a haven to spiders and dust. Liandra had nightmares about those crawling insects ever since. She hadn't voiced any of her complaints again.

  “Anything you wish to add, witch?"

  Liandra shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.

  “Then best you start. The sooner you do, the sooner you be finished."

  Once Vanora had gone, Bronnia came out of hiding. Side by side they began to scrub the floor.

  “She hates you, too. Why?” Bronnia asked, her eyes huge in her small face.

  “Because I'm different. Some people find it hard to accept another who is not like them,” Liandra said.

  “Maybe that is why my Uncle hates me."

  “No he doesn't."

  “Does. Said I killed my mama."

  In shock, Liandra dropped her scrubbing brush. “Who told you such a thing? Who are they, Bronnia?”

  The child shook her head. Liandra saw she was too afraid to speak.

  “That sniveling brat did kill Heather MacLeod,” Jenna said, striding forward.

  Furiously, Bronnia stood up, her small hands balled into fists. Jenna only laughed at her display.

  Slowly, Liandra came to her feet. “I don't believe she killed her mother,” she said.

  “'Tis true! Heather MacLeod was only eighteen when her belly swelled with that one. No man came forward to claim responsibility, though there were several who would have taken Heather as wife, thereby averting a scandal. But no! My kinswoman would have none of them, no matter what her father said, or did. And when she whelped the brat, she was much weakened, so that for almost two years after, she lay confined in her bed. She died from the strain of bearing this little bitch."

  “Heather was a kinswoman of yours?"

  “Aye."

  “And you treat her child in such a way? For shame!” Liandra said.

  “There be shame—shame that such a misbegotten creature as Bronnia could carry the blood of my clan!"

  “You're a hate-filled woman, Maera Jenna."

  “You are to blame for it! See here!” She held out her hands. “Red and raw from peeling the potatoes. Not to mention the other work I am given for simply having the courage to confront you."

  Now Connal was back at the Castle, it seemed Jenna's punishment was earnestly in force. Liandra regarded Jenna's long slender fingers. They didn't look too bad to her, not in comparison to her own sore and water-shriveled hands.

  “You are an affront to my eyes. Both of you!” Jenna towered over Bronnia and to her credit the little girl stood her ground. Liandra had to admire her courageous display.

  “Still got a bit of spirit left, have you? Your uncle knows how to treat such. Get you gone! The witch and I have things to discuss."

  “Go along, Bronni, I'm all right. Truly."

  Reluctantly, Bronnia walked down the corridor, pausing every few paces to look back over her shoulder. Liandra waved her away.

  Too long the confrontation between Jenna and herself had been delayed. Bronnia was not going to be allowed to witness it.

  Eye to eye the two women glared at one another. Liandra folded her arms and regarded Jenna in the same infuriatingly arrogant way Connal often did to her. Jenna's face reddened, though she remained silent.

  “Well, what is it you wish to say to me, Maera Jenna?"

  “Only this..."

  She stepped forward and before Liandra knew what had happened, she felt the stinging slap across her cheek. As she reeled back in pain in surprise, Jenna advanced, her hand raised to deliver another blow.

 
A flurry of robe attached itself to Jenna's skirts. For a moment, Liandra could only stare in disbelief as Bronnia attacked the woman with all her tiny fury.

  “Bronnia, no!”

  The corridor echoed with the sounds of Jenna's cries and Bronnia's high pitched squealing. Liandra stepped into the foray, dodging fists and nails, trying to interpose herself between the two combatants.

  “Arran's Mercy! What goes on here? What demons are invading the Castle?”

  The sound of Connal's voice restored a measure of order. Jenna sprang back, Bronnia after her, until Liandra managed to prize her from her victim.

  Liandra knelt down and held Bronnia to her. The child sobbed hysterically against her shoulder.

  “I said what goes on here? The screaming could wake the dead! I will not have fighting in my halls. Jenna? Liandra?"

  “I...” Liandra began.

  “Both the witches attacked me,” Jenna whined. “I was walking down the passageway and that brat started on me. Connal—darling.” She burst into tears.

  Connal folded his arms and frowned at Jenna.

  “I witnessed the event, My Lord,” Fianna said, emerging from the shadows. “As much as it pains me to say, my kinswoman is to blame for this whole affair."

  “You lying bitch!” Jenna hissed.

  “Your tears are suddenly dry, Jenna,” Connal remarked. “Continue, Fia."

  “My sister taunted them both. They showed much restraint. In their place, I would not have kept silent. For what she said about Bronni's mama, my little kinswoman attacked Jenna. Liandra tried to separate the two."

  Connal's mouth twitched in suppressed laughter as he regarded Jenna. “The child attacked you?"

  “The brat is a lunatic. She ought to be locked up, Connal."

  “Bronnia you cannot assault people just because of what they say to you. If you have a grievance, you must come to me and I will listen. Do you understand?"

  Bronnia looked down at her feet and nodded. “Lord MacArran?” she whispered. For an instant she raised her tear-filled eyes up to Connal.

  “Yes, little one?"

  “I am not a witch, Liandra is neither!"

  Connal ignored Jenna's snort of derision. “That I know. Now you must apologize to Jenna."