Smile fading, then, with no levity at all, he told her: Arrow of Mórnir to Priestess of the Mother. Everything. Softly he gave her the name of the child and, more softly yet, who the father was.
She didn’t move during the telling of it or after; no indication anywhere in her of the impact. He had to admire her self-control. Then she asked again, but in a different voice, “Why are you here?”
And he said, “Because you made Jennifer a guest-friend last spring.” She hadn’t been ready for that—this time it showed in her face. A triumph for him of sorts, but the moment was too high by far for petty score-keeping in the power game. He went on, to take away the sting, “Loren would mistrust the wildness of this too much, but I thought you could deal with it. We need you.”
“You trust me with this?”
His turn to gesture impatiently. “Oh, Jaelle, don’t exaggerate your own malevolence. You aren’t happy with the power balance here, any fool can see that. But only a very great fool would confuse that with where you stand in this war. You serve the Goddess who sent up that moon, Jaelle. I am least likely of all men to forget it.”
She seemed very young in that moment. There was a woman beneath the white robe, a person, not merely an icon; he’d made the mistake of trying to tell her that once, in this very room, with the rain falling outside.
“What do you need?” she said.
His tone was crisp. “A watch on the child. Complete secrecy, of course, which is another reason I came to you.”
“I will have to tell the Mormae in Gwen Ystrat.”
“I thought as much.” He rose, began pacing as he spoke. “It is all the same, I gather, within the Mormae?”
She nodded. “It is all the same, within any level of the Priestesshood, but it will be kept to the inner circle.”
“All right,” he said, and stopped his pacing very close to her. “But you have a problem then.”
“What?”
“This!” And reaching past her, he pulled open an inner door and grabbed the listener beyond, pulling her into the room so that she sprawled on the carpeted floor.
“Leila!” Jaelle exclaimed.
The girl adjusted her grey robe and rose to her feet. There was a hint of apprehension in her eyes, but only a hint, Paul saw, and she held her head very high, facing the two of them.
“You may owe a death for this.” Jaelle’s tone was glacial.
Leila said hardily, “Are we to discuss it with a man here?”
Jaelle hesitated, but only for a second. “We are,” she replied, and Paul was startled by a sudden change in her tone. “Leila,” the High Priestess said gently, “you must not lecture me, I am not Shiel or Marline. You have worn grey for ten days only, and you must understand your place.”
It was too soft for Paul’s liking. “The hell with that! What was she doing there? What did she hear?”
“I heard it all,” Leila said.
Jaelle was astonishingly calm. “I believe it,” she said. “Now tell me why.”
“Because of Finn,” said Leila. “Because I could tell he came from Finn.”
“Ah,” said Jaelle slowly. She walked toward the child then and, after a moment, stroked a long finger down her cheek in an unsettling caress. “Of course.”
“I’m lost,” said Paul.
They both turned to him. “You shouldn’t be,” Jaelle said, in complete control again. “Did Jennifer not tell you about the ta’kiena?”
“Yes, but—”
“And why she wanted to bear her child in Vae’s house? Finn’s mother’s house?”
“Oh.” It clicked. He looked at slim, fair-haired Leila. “This one?” he asked.
The girl answered him herself. “I called Finn to the Road. Three times, and then another. I am tuned to him until he goes.”
There was a silence. “All right, Leila,” Jaelle said. “Leave us now. You have done what you had to do. Never breathe a word.”
“I don’t think I could,” said Leila, in a small voice. “For Finn. There is an ocean inside me sometimes. I think it would overrun me if I tried.” She turned and left the room, closing the door softly behind her.