Free The Sword and the Song by C. E. Laureano Page A

suspect ill-treatment, most likely torture.”
    “The question I put to the Conclave today is whether we launch a rescue attempt,” Conor said. “Meallachán is one of the few men living who understand the harp’s full capability and how the runes work with it. We need him on our side and, if possible, before he gives up that information to our enemy.”
    “And why are you putting this question to us when Eoghan has stepped forward to take leadership?” Dal asked, a little smile on his face. The man truly did not like Conor.
    The entire table fell silent, looking between Conor and Eoghan in anticipation. Conor’s stomach tightened. This was the moment of truth.
    Eoghan met his eyes and gave him a solemn nod before rising. Conor sank to his seat, feeling as if the air had gone out of him. At last Eoghan had given in to his badgering. So why didn’t he feel relieved?
    “Conor is correct in his assessment. Meallachán is too great an asset to be left in the hands of our enemies. I propose that we launch a rescue mission to retrieve him from Ard Bealach.”
    The room erupted into a babble of voices: questions about his leadership, the mission, what this meant to Ard Dhaimhin. Eoghan held up his hands for silence and nodded to Riordan, who was waiting to speak.
    “Does this mean you are claiming the kingship?”
    “It means I am taking the leadership of Ard Dhaimhin’s fighting men and our military actions,” Eoghan said. Unease once more rippled through the gathering. “As of yet, there is no throne to claim. Our land remains divided and on the brink of extinction. Only when the threat of war is gone and this evil is put to rest is it proper for any man to don a crown.”
    Conor didn’t think he misread the undercurrent of disappointment. So Eoghan would seize leadership but not the crown?
    “Conor needs to remain at the head of the city, overseeing our supplies and the integration of the kingdom’s citizens. He is best suited to lead Ard Dhaimhin. But I know our men. With proper planning and strategy, we can succeed at Ard Bealach.”
    “Yet you will not take the title of High King,” Gradaigh said, clearly disappointed.
    “As is right.”
    All men swept their attention toward Aine, shocked by her statement. “Daimhin did not declare himself king and demandfealty,” she said. “He earned the respect of the clans and delivered Seare from the threat they too faced. Only when his job was complete did he accept the High Kingship. Would you ask Eoghan to seize an honor for himself that even our first High King dared not?”
    That halted everyone mid-grumble. Eoghan nodded to Aine and then looked around the table. “What say you? Will you accept my leadership in military matters and continue to recognize Conor as Ceannaire of Ard Dhaimhin?”
    Slowly, heads dipped around the table, followed by “ayes” in varying degrees of enthusiasm. Eoghan seemed to relax, even though the tension built in Conor with every voice that added itself to the fray. Eoghan seemed to think he had come up with a solution, a compromise, when all he had done was complicate matters. As if the chain of command weren’t muddied enough, he’d just divided their authority without recognizing that military plans directly affected the operation of the city.
    “Good,” Eoghan said. “Now, Ard Bealach. Conor?”
    Conor quashed his feelings and unrolled two large sheets of parchment across the table. “This is a map of the Sliebhanaigh mountains and passes. Below it, the most recent map of Ard Bealach.”
    “How did you get these?” Aine burst out.
    Eoghan answered before Conor could. “We have maps and plans of every fortress in Seare. Most of them were built during Daimhin’s time. The ones that weren’t   —let’s just say that hostages weren’t the only reason Queen Shanna demanded the firstborn son from each clan be sent to Ard Dhaimhin.”
    Conor bent over the map. Its precision was astounding, detailing everything from the