She didn’t know what to say, so she just nodded while Sorcha pulled open a drawer and shuffled through an assortment of tiny swatches and threads.
“You want it in black? For your cloak?”
“Oh… yeah, sure.” Morrígan was suddenly aware of how dishevelled her beadhbh cloak looked. Most of the feathers were bent and crooked, the rest of her plumage in disarray. It looked as if she had just rolled down a mountain and waded through the Glenn. Around her shoulders, some tufts had been completely torn free from weeks of wear-and-tear. The garment no longer fitted her figure and hung shapelessly over her hips.
Sorcha handed her a black roll of thread, with a slender needle struck through it. The two girls’ hands touched for a moment. Morrígan never knew somebody’s hands could be so soft. Her own were dirty and calloused from working all day and night in the caverns.
Despite Sorcha’s pleasantries and fronts, a hint of disgust crossed her face. She eyed Morrígan up and down, and then stared back up at her mess of hair.
“Morrígan… where have you been?” She paused and shook her head. “I haven’t seen you since… since the Harvest Moon festival and….”
“And it’s none of your business!” Morrígan grabbed the needle and thread and stormed out of the shop, leaving three bronze shillings discarded on the counter.
***
A crowd was gathering in the Square as Morrígan walked through. Her first reaction was to ignore it, but after a second thought, she decided to join them. Indeed, the last time she had seen such a crowd gather, a battalion of mages had usurped the inn.
Maybe there’s another visitor to the town….
Morrígan spotted Taigdh, standing by himself at the edge.
“What’s going on?” she said, desperately trying to tidy her hair as she approached.
Taigdh turned, and his eyes widened.
“Morrígan! By the Trinity! How have you been? I thought you were already gone off to the Academy!”
He threw his arms around her, and despite herself, Morrígan hugged him back.
“Oh, I’ve just been busy working and studying. You know….”
Taigdh pulled back and nodded solemnly. “Mrs. Mhurichú, how is she doing?”
“Much better than before! She’ll be back to her old self in no time.”
Taigdh smiled, sending a shiver down her spine and quickening her heart’s beat. She missed that smile, and her lie was worth seeing it again.
“We really appreciate all the help you and Yarlaith have been giving her,” he said. “We can’t thank you enough.”
We. She was unable to keep a scowl from crossing her lips.
She turned and gestured dismissively towards the crowd. “What’s going on here?”
“It’s just the colonel’s assembly,” said Taigdh. “He gives one every week.” He paused and studied her carefully. “Are you sure you haven’t really been away? He’s been doing this for the past six moons!”
For a moment, Morrígan just wanted to tell him the truth: that she had really been working to change the world, to conquer death. When she looked into his eyes, she didn’t want to lie anymore. None of what she did was really wrong, and if anyone was going to understand, it would be Taigdh.
He’d see the bigger picture. He’d see what we want to achieve before considering what the Church would think.
She held her tongue, however, as Colonel Eodadh and a squad of Geomancers marched out in front of the crowd.
“Citizens of the Kingdom of Alabach. Under the reign of King Diarmuid, under the rule of the Trinity, and under the government of the Triad, I stand before you as a light in the dark of these troubling times.”
His formalities continued as Morrígan asked Taigdh what was going on.
“Without The Bear to get our news,” he whispered, “the only way we can learn about the Simians and the war is through these speeches.”
From the corner of her eye, Morrígan saw Fearghal and another few villagers standing apart from the crowd. The butcher had his arms folded, his brow furrowed as he listened.
The colonel cleared his throat. “Today I bring grave news from Penance in the north. Borris Blackhand of the Triad has died. The Simians have elected known terrorist Argyll the Silverback as their new representative. The people of Penance are making it clear that they all stand behind the dissidents and condone their actions. Today, they’ve handed a third of the kingdom to a murderer.”
A wave of whispers washed over the crowd when the colonel paused for effect. Morrígan studied the Geomancer’s features as he watched them.
He’s trying to scare us.
The Triad seated in Penance was a governing body made up of three individuals: a Human, a Simian, and a king. Although they all “governed” Alabach together, King Diarmuid was still above them, for he happened to be one of the Trinity too.
With a glance, Morrígan saw that Fearghal wasn’t impressed, and she considered his “invisible war” theories.
Maybe he does have a point after all.
The colonel spoke again. “The Silverback is a criminal mastermind who has manipulated the nobility of Alabach with one hand, and now holds the kingdom by the throat with the other. His spies and scouts have infested the Clifflands, but they have seen how strong we are. They know that a mage battalion is stationed in every settlement from Point Grey to the Glenn, and that is why they do not dare risk an open war against us. They have witnessed our strength, and they have learned their place.”
Morrígan remembered the Simian she saw the day the Geomancers had tried to move the troll. It was an unsettling thought, to think that he was fleeing back to Penance to make a report.
They must know about the catacombs too, thought Morrígan, considering how he had just disappeared back into the caves without a trace. Fortunately, once the caves surrounding the workshop had been mapped, Yarlaith was able to use his own Geomancy to block off the tunnels leading inside.
“But this does not mean we have nothing to fear,” the colonel continued. He pulled a parchment out from his cloak and rolled it open, presenting the words to the crowd, though most of those before him were illiterate.
