Divine By Choice. P.C. Cast
my hand that rested on his shoulder with his own.
Hastily I cleared my throat, trying to regain my scattered thoughts.
“Um, I…” The people silenced themselves as I looked out at the crowd, and for an instant it seemed that behind the joyously gathered group I saw something dark. Something that lingered and watched and waited, but when I tried to look directly at it, disappeared. I cleared my throat and mentally shook myself. “I…um…I mean…” My gaze flitted around until it found Alanna. Her arms were wrapped intimately around her husband, but her eyes were on me. A frown hovered on her lips as her confusion at my uncharacteristic hesitance registered.
I started again.
“We would like to invite you to join us, all of Epona’s servants and their families, for a feast to welcome home our brave warriors.” The strength of my voice grew as I spoke. “Please share with us the joy of their return with food and wine!”
The crowd cheered, milling expectantly, eager to follow us to the Great Hall. At the same time, ClanFintan twisted around, pulling me down from his back and setting me gently on the ground beside him. We moved forward through the entrance side by side, his arm resting protectively around my shoulder, his gait slowing to match my much shorter steps.
“Are you well, Rhea?” he asked softly.
“Yes, I’m fine.” I tried to smile up at him, but a new wave of nausea left me feeling clammy and weak.
The warriors who guarded the huge intricately carved doors saluted as I approached. In a move that made them look like muscular shadows of one another, they pulled the doors open and the smells and sights from the Great Hall escaped, spilling over us in a welcome of the senses.
ClanFintan led me to our familiar chaises, which to me always evoked the image and opulence of ancient Rome. He folded himself down into one after bowing me toward my own. As was customary, we reclined for our meals as did the ancient Romans (minus the stuffing puking stuffing puking part). The heads of our chaises were almost touching, and a narrow pedestaled table rested within arm’s reach. I smiled at him, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the intense way he was studying me. Then the hall quieted and I cleared my throat before I began the blessing. Taking a deep breath, I felt myself relax. Not only was I used to public speaking/teaching/scolding/whatever, I enjoyed it.
“We thank you, Epona, for the safe return of our brave warriors.” I noted a murmur of agreement rustling through the crowd. I closed my eyes and tilted my chin back, raising my arms over my head as if I was focusing my blessing upward and within at the same time. I continued. “I have only to close my eyes and in memory I see the hardships we have overcome this past season.” I had learned early on that in Partholon time wasn’t measured by months, it was measured by seasons and the changing moon. “But our Goddess was near us then, as always. We can hear Her voice in the sounding of the rain, and the trilling of the birds. It is in the rhythm of the moon, the brush of the breeze, the sweet, living scent of the earth. We are reminded by the changing of the seasons that blessings are not to be had singly. Instead, they come to us in a mixture, and sometimes must be discovered as sifting gems from sand. Tonight we are thankful for our gems.” The walls of the Great Hall echoed my closing words, “Hail Epona!”
I opened my eyes and smiled at my wonderful audience before I sank gratefully into my chaise.
“Please bring me some herbal tea, and take away this wine,” I whispered to an attentive servant. She gave me a confused look, and who could blame her? I was definitely acting out of character, but she complied without question.
“What is wrong, Rhea?” Although he kept his voice low, ClanFintan’s worry was obvious enough to cause several of the people and centaurs in chaises near us (which included Alanna and her doctor husband) to send me concerned, questioning looks.
“Oh—” I tried to make my voice sound light “—I’ve had some kind of stomach upset that doesn’t want to go away.” I met my husband’s steady gaze with my usual slightly sarcastic grin. “It’s almost as stubborn as I’ve been known to be.”
Several of our eavesdroppers chuckled. I noticed that Alanna, Carolan and ClanFintan did not join them.
“You look pale…” He hesitated, studying me again. “And thin.”
“Well, you can never be too rich or too thin,” I quipped.
“Humph,” he snorted through his nose, making a sound that was very horselike.
“Alanna,” I called, “I thought some of the maidens were going to play music during the feast.”
“Yes, Rhea.” Her smile was tinged with concern, like she thought I was hovering at the edge of a nervous breakdown. “They await your signal, as always.” She pointed to a raised platform in the corner of the hall where six young women sat with various instruments resting against their silken-clad laps. They were all looking expectantly in my direction.
“Oh,” I said, feeling doltish. What in the hell was wrong with me? Brain tumor. Had to be. I raised my hands and clapped twice. Immediately the hall was filled with the opening notes of a single harp. When the others joined in, I was enthralled anew with the music, which seemed to me an intoxicating mixture of Gaelic melody and Partholonian magic. Unexpectedly, I felt my eyes tear up at the lilting sadness of the song, and I had to fight the urge to curl up for a good cry.
Okay—something was REALLY wrong.
I’m not a crier. I mean it. Weak women who dissolve into tears make my ass hurt.
The clattering of plates brought my fragmented attention back to the table. Something chicken-like and dripping with a buttery garlic sauce was being placed before me. As the smell wafted over me, I had to press my lips together and swallow hard.
I grabbed the arm of a startled servant. “Take this away and bring me…” I spoke through clenched teeth as I struggled to think of something that sounded like it might be palatable. Remembering the BRAT rule (upset stomach = Banana, Rice, Applesauce, Toast) from my college stint as a hospital unit secretary, I brightened and released my viselike grip. “Rice! Bring me some plain white rice.”
She blinked in surprise. “Just rice, my Lady?”
“Uh, and some warm bread,” I added with an attempt at a smile.
“Yes, my Lady.”
She hurried off and I looked up to meet my husband’s worried gaze. Before he could begin the interrogation, I began chirping questions, merrily attempting to change the subject.
“So, fill me in—I want to hear everything.” I sipped my herbal tea, willing my stomach to stay still. “Are the people all settled into Guardian and Laragon Castles? Did you have any luck tracking the Fomorian survivors?”
“Rhea, I sent weekly reports keeping you apprised of our actions.”
“I know, love, but they were just the bare facts. I want to hear the details.” I smiled my thanks to the servant who deposited a plate of warm white rice before me.
“As you wish,” He took a deep breath and, through bites of his nauseatingly delicious-looking food, he began a summary of the past months. “Because the work crews had already cleaned and repaired both castles, settling the new inhabitants was actually simply accomplished…”
While ClanFintan talked, I kept an attentive look on my face as I gingerly forced small spoonfuls of rice into my resisting mouth, sipping tea between chews.
“…so the settling of Laragon went smoothly, and we have Thalia and the rest of the Muse Incarnates to thank for that. Many of the students who were near graduation volunteered to stay at Laragon, helping to get the new warriors and their families established.” He smiled. “I believe several of the young disciples of the Muse will not be returning to their Goddess’s temple.”
Laragon Castle was situated near the great Temple of the Muse, which was really a Partholonian version of an all-female university. Exceptional young women from