Free Spirit of the Mist by Janeen O'Kerry Page B

slaves. How such a boy could have grown up to be a prince was a mystery, for no man born a slave could ever be a king, and she did not know how she could ever learn the truth. Muriel gathered her fine cloak a little more closely around her, for the sun was gone now and the warmth seemed to have left the hall. She felt only a chill and an emptiness in its place as she closed her eyes and held her little bunch of white flowers very tightly.  
     
    The men in the hall went on talking and laughing for a long time, and then got down to making the arrangements for Brendan’s return to his people.  
    Darragh took a fine, soft leather bag from his belt and turned to King Murrough. “We have, of course, brought you the ransom for our prince.” He held out the bag, which one of the druids accepted, and after looking inside it he showed it to the king.  
    Murrough leaned over to look inside the bag, then nodded. “Very fine gold work. We will accept it. Although…” He glanced up at his druid. “I should think that this gold torque alone is not enough to ransom the tanist of a tribe.”  
    Murrough’s druid looked at Darragh. “It is not enough,” he said. “The ransom requires fifteen milk cows as well, or thirty heifers, in addition to the gold that you have brought.”  
    “Of course,” Darragh said. “We left so quickly, racing to get here, that it was not possible to bring down the cattle from the mountains and take them with us. I am sure you can understand how anxious we were to see our tanist again, after having reason to think he was dead.”  
    “That is understandable,” said King Murrough. He motioned the druid away. “Brendan—I know King Galvin well. You may return to your home now and send the remainder of your ransom to me, or you may stay here as our honored guest until it can be brought. I am giving the son of King Galvin and the tanist of Dun Bochna a choice. What is your wish?”  
    Brendan turned and smiled at Muriel. “I would consider it no hardship to stay.”  
    But Darragh and Killian looked at him, and their faces grew serious. “You’ve got to come now,” said Killian with a warning shake of his head. “It will take another two fortnights to get the cattle safely here. You cannot wait that long.”  
    “Why not?” asked Brendan, still smiling at Muriel. “Perhaps I will stay and see how this lady likes me.”  
    “You must hear us,” said Darragh. “King Galvin wants to see you. Your father wants to see you with his own eyes. Now.”  
    Before it is too late. Muriel heard the unspoken words. It seemed that Brendan heard them, too, for his face grew serious and still. “I understand,” he said quietly. “We will go in the morning, as soon as it is light enough to ride. The cows will be sent.”  
    He looked over at Muriel, his eyes full of apology, and she knew that in the morning Brendan would be gone.  
    She tucked the white flowers beneath her cloak and left the hall, walking in silence back to her house, not wanting to look at him again.  

Chapter Six  
    It was the darkest night Muriel had ever known, for there was no moon, and the heavy clouds rolling in from the sea had turned the sky into a solid wall of blackness.  
    She stood beside her empty water mirror, running her fingers over its cold bronze surface. The basin would be of no use to her on this night. Even if she had been able to set it up, what could she have asked? It had given her no clear answer to her first question, the one that now would not leave her: whether Brendan was truly king or slave.  
    There seemed to be no doubt any longer that he was what he said he was. His men clearly knew him and recognized him as a prince and a brother and a friend. Yet Muriel could not understand why her mirror had seemed to show the image of Brendan, when he was just a few months old, as the child of slaves. She had never known her mirror to be wrong before. Its message might be difficult to decipher at