Weatherwitch: Book Three of The Crowthistle Chronicles by Cecilia Dart-Thornton Read Free Book Online

fellow men. The weathermaster Ryence Darglistel, who testified in favor of MacRoigh’s character, seemed always to hold that the charges of conspiracy were trumped up.”
    “Trumped up by whom, I’d like to know?” his father said. “Who would do such a thing? But that is typical of the way the weather-meddlers ride roughshod over us these days, endeavoring to seize the reins of our own kingdom and thwart us at every turn. By the Axe of Doom, they hold a much-inflated opinion of themselves. Their heads have swelled as huge as their hot air balloons, and need a good pricking.”
    Ronin had been taken aback by the vehemence of his father’s denouncement of the widely revered storm-mages. He felt a twinge of uneasiness—which vanished as abruptly as it had appeared, for all his life he had been taught to invest great faith in his father’s judgment, and supposed he must be right.
    “It is of no consequence in any case,” the king went on,” for all doubt on MacRoigh’s account is now swept aside. Full confession has been heard from the man’s own mouth. Although,” he added, stealing a sidelong glance at his wife, “he was somewhat toothless and my inquisitors had to lean closely to decipher his mumbling, after his screams died down.” Uabhar examined his fingernails, apparently oblivious of Queen Saibh’s reaction. Ronin knew that his brother Kieran shared his discomfort on their mother’s behalf as the king launched into a description of the methods used to extract MacRoigh’s acknowledgment of guilt.
    Conall Gearnach approached the party, striding across the lawn. A scowl flitted across his features as he entered within earshot under the trees, but on meeting Kieran’s friendly glance of greeting a warm light kindled in his eyes. His demeanor returned to neutral, however, as he waited at a few pacesdistance until his sovereign had finished expounding; then he bowed low. King Uabhar gave him permission to speak, whereupon the knight presented his salutations and begged for a private audience with his liege on some matter of military business.
    Still in high spirits, Uabhar assented readily. He quit the gardens with Gearnach, accompanied also by Princes Cormac and Fergus, and the shadowy retinue. Kieran and Ronin resumed strolling through the grove alongside their mother, whose delicate face had grown ashen.
    “Mother,” said Ronin, “Pray, do not be distressed if our father fails to comprehend your disposition as we do. It cannot be his fault that by nature he is unaware of feminine sensibilities.”
    Indeed, that Uabhar was incapable of fathoming the depths of women’s subtleties had been plain to Ronin since the day Kieran had been sent to dwell for two years at the court of King Thorgild. Saibh had wept and wrung her hands, begging Uabhar to change his mind and let her dear boy stay by her side, but Uabhar would have none of it. “You would tie my heir to your apron strings and make a milksop of him,” he said, laughing heartily at his own wit. “I would make him a man. Let him go into the world and stand on his own feet! Besides, he should become acquainted with his bride-to-be, so that his eyes may be open when he is of age to wed. Many an honest man has been lured into marriage with some stramullion whose maidenly artifices have disguised her true nature. Let him not be one such hoodwinked victim!”
    Ronin tactfully refrained from pointing out that since Princess Solveig of Grïmnørsland had been betrothed to Kieran at the age of three months, she could hardly be accused of employing petticoat wiles to snare a husband.
    “It is bad enough that you send him away, but to dispatch Gearnach with him! That man is a fire-eater!” the queen protested in tears. “Let not my boy be assigned to the care of a daredevil!”
    “Two-Swords will make a fine nursemaid,” the king rejoined with a chuckle.
    At the time, it had been Uabhar’s dismissal of his mother’s entreaties that had led Ronin to