Holder of Lightning

"I suspected it." His eyes went to her hand, still clutching the chain of his cloch. "Now I know it." His gaze searched her face. "I'm sorry, Jenna.

“I'm sorry you have to bear the burden. I'm sorry I could not be your da for you."

"My da?" Jenna shouted in rage. "You could never be my da!" Anger twisted her hand tight around the chain, and with the rising fury she tore the cloch from around his neck, the silver links parting as they ripped open his skin.

He screamed, a sound that held loss and terror, a wail of grief and a shivering denial. His hands grasped for the cloch, his eyes wide. "No..!" He was panting, and his eyes were wild. "I'll kill you for this. I swear it!"

She stared down at him. "The next time we meet," she told him, clutch-ing his stone in her hand, "one of us will die." The words came to her with a sense of truth, as if she'd been given a glimpse of the future.

He moaned and shrieked, his eyes not on her but on the cloch na thintri she'd taken. Jenna turned and went to the boat, trying not to listen to the mingled threats and pleas he hurled at her back.

"Cast off," she told Meagher, and went to sit next to O'Deoradhain, staring back at the village as the wind snapped at the sail and bore them away.

Chapter 37: The White Keep

HE expected him to be angry. He wasn't. "You know it was a mistake to leave him alive," was all he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "But you should know that in some ways, that was more cruel. He'll always feel the loss. Forever."

"They'll give him another Cloch Mor. Or he'll find one," Jenna an-swered.

O'Deoradhain nodded. "Aye, I agree. He will. And

he will come after you with it, because you have wounded him-on the inside, where it will never heal."

She only nodded, her hand at her throat, and he smiled sadly at her. 'You made the choice. You can't unmake it. And I'm not surprised that you couldn't find it in yourself to kill a helpless man." It was the last time he mentioned the incident.

The first night out, with the headland of the bay still to be rounded, the mage-lights began to glow. Meagher and his friend were watching, their gazes on the two and the mage-lights that were beginning to swirl above them. "You saw what the clochs can do at the village," Jenna told Meagher. She cradled her right arm, letting them see the patterns the lights had carved into her skin. "I'm telling you now that we can sense your intentions, also, while we're calling the mage-lights or even when we're sleeping. I will use the cloch if I feel threatened. Do you understand?"

They nodded silently, meek and terrified. Neither looked inclined to test the truth of Jenna's small lie. The mage-lights strengthened, their glow touching the waves with color.

"Jenna," O'Deoradhain said as Jenna steeled herself for the ordeal of filling Lamh Shabhala once again. "If you're willing, I'd like you to give me Mac Ard's cloch." She glanced at him, more quizzical than anything "I'll give you Gairbith's in return," he added.

Jenna hesitated. "Why? They're both Clochs Mor."

"Because he'll come looking for that one," O'Deoradhain answered "And I want him to come to me, not to someone who may not understand or may not be expecting him."

"Are you sure it's not just because he hurt you with it?"

O'Deoradhain shrugged. "And that, too."

Jenna handed the rubied stone to him. His mouth tightened as he bowed his head to take Gairbith's cloch from around his neck, and she heard him gasp as if stung when the chain was removed. "It's only Mac Ard's cloch in my other hand that lets me do this," he* said as he handed the green stone to her. He was sweating, the lines of his face carved deep.

"Even this hurts, though I held Gairbith’s cloch for just a few days and have another cloch to immediately replace it. Take it from me, Jenna; I can’t… I can’t let it go."

Jenna reached over and pried his fingers from the stone until it dropped into her hand. O’Deoradhain took a long, shuddering breath, clutching Mac Ard’s cloch to him. After a few minutes, he lifted his head again and shook it. Jenna could see tears in his eyes. "They told me during the training that no one could give up his cloch willingly. I always thought that was an exaggeration, but that was harder than I believed. I couldn’t ever do that again," he said softly. "Never. If I’d kept the other cloch any longer, if I’d used it more…"

"Then fill Mac Ard’s cloch now," Jenna told him. "Fill it and make it yours."

The mage-lights danced seductively, calling Jenna, and Lamh Shabhala’s need tugged at her. She turned away from O’Deoradhain and looked up, lifting the cup of the cloch to the mage-lights to be filled.

The voyage took five days, hopping across the chain of small islands be-tween Talamh an Glas and Inish Thuaidh. "There," O’Deoradhain said finally, pointing ahead across the choppy gray waves. "That’s Inishfeim. That’s where we’re going."