Flame of Sevenwaters Read Free

seamed features were all concentration as he watched the yearling. I wasn’t sure I could bear to witness the moment when he was told his pride and joy was being packed off across the sea, so far we would likely never hear whether Swift had sired any foals at all, let alone a charmer with quicksilver in its steps.
    “Before the autumn gales set in.” Bran turned his gaze from Swift to me. I thought he was about to express regret or sympathy, for both were in his steady gray eyes, but what he said was, “There’s something further I want to put to you.”
    “Oh?” I could not imagine what was coming, unless he was about to ask me to break the bad news to Garalt for him.
    “The most even-tempered of horses hates the motion of a boat. I don’t need an expert to tell me what a risk it is to transport this particular creature over to Erin. Swift is going to need more than the attentions of a groom or two, even if they’re as capable as Emrys. Liadan tells me Garalt’s injured foot won’t heal in time for him to travel with the horse. Would you be prepared to go?”
    My jaw dropped.
    “Only as far as Sevenwaters, of course. You’d take your maidservant with you. Your father can arrange for Swift to be safely conveyed on to Tirconnell.”
    When I did not answer—I was still trying to put the pieces together in my mind—my uncle added, “It’s a great deal to ask; I know that. You have your reasons for not wanting to go back and I respect them. But this isn’t a request that you return to live with your parents. I’m asking you to do a highly skilled job; a job nobody else can do. It’s not so much for my sake as for your father’s. He’s in a difficult position, and this will help him. It’s for the horse’s sake, too. I know you’re attached to the creature. With you there, we can be reasonably sure Swift will survive the trip without doing himself serious damage.”
    Emrys had brought the yearling to a halt. Garalt had limped over to speak to him and was standing beside Swift, one hand resting on the animal’s neck. Swift stood still for now, but he was trembling. They’d lead him into the stables for a rub-down, and then, I supposed, Bran would break the news. What if I told my uncle the truth: that the thought of going home awoke the frightened child inside me? What if I refused to do it? Then Garalt would not even have the reassurance that Swift would travel safely. He would be as quick as I was to imagine the possibilities if a highly strung creature, taken away from everything familiar, were to be loaded into a boat and sent off across an expanse of unpredictable ocean.
    “I have some questions,” I told Bran. What sort of insult or injury required restitution beyond the means of a prominent Irish chieftain? What in the name of the gods was the Disappearance? “But you should tell Garalt now. I can’t pretend to him that nothing’s happened. Can we speak about this later?”
    “Of course. So you will consider it?”
    Through the gathering clouds of misgiving in my mind, I recognized his courtesy in making this a request, not an order. Bran and Liadan were my foster parents; they had authority over me. Bran could simply have told me I was going home. Instead he had shown respect, and I honored him for it even as I shrank from the task itself.
    “I’ll consider it, Uncle. You should tell Garalt that you’ve asked me to go with Swift; that will soften the blow.” I drew a deep breath. “I’ll come with you when you tell him,” I made myself say.
    My foster father offered me his heavily tattooed arm and I hooked mine through it. “Thank you, Maeve,” Bran said. “You have a gift for imparting fortitude, and not only to creatures. Come then, let’s do this.”
    After supper, I sat with my uncle and aunt in a little private chamber, and Bran gave me Father’s letter to read. Much of it concerned matters my uncle had already discussed with me, and all of it wascouched in careful language,