Shapeshifter by Holly Bennett Page B

that she has endured such hardship. Do you hear from her at all? If there were some way to get the news to her, she would be free to come home.”
    “YES, ORAN, I MEAN you to spy on her! How clear do I have to be? Lurk by her chamber door, follow after her serving women, find some task to do where she’s dining. Listen without getting caught.” Far aimed a cuff at the boy’s head to reinforce his words. “Now do you understand?”
    Oran tried to put space between himself and the sorcerer without visibly moving his body. He failed, and the blow landed squarely on his temple. “Yes, master. I understand.”
    Far smiled warmly. “Good. You hear any news of Sive’s whereabouts, you bring it to me.”
    “I will, master.” Oran bowed deeply and rushed from the room.
    Oran Remembers
    If Daireann had revealed where Sive was, I would have told the Dark Man. I would have hated myself for it, but I could not have helped myself. I am bound to follow his commands.
    But she did not. Instead she said the strangest thing to her woman.
    “Imagine Sive, trotting around the mortal lands all this time. The weather there is dreadful, you know. And what could she be eating? Surely not acorns and shrubbery!”
    She laughed then, tinkly and careless. “If she only knew, she has only to hop over to Finn mac Cumhail’s dun. Not even Far could touch her there. I learned that from Finn himself, the day I cursed him. He said that his uncle Lugh had stretched his bright hand in protection over his dun, and no dark magic could penetrate there. He said once he made it back home, my curse would break.”
    She laughed again, the sound venomous this time. “Much good it did him, and he on the other side of Eire! And, now that I think of it, much good would it do Sive. I almost forgot—the great Finn mac Cumhail holds no truck with women of the Sidhe. He would not open his door to her.”
    I was not compelled to tell my master what I had learned, and I did not. I buried Daireann’s words deep within myself, where I hoped he would not find them. And I waited for a chance to use them.
    THE HOUSE SEEMED empty without the women. Derg wondered if he should close it up and take a chamber in the king’s palace. He could not foresee how it would ever be safe for either of them to return, though he feared Grian might decide otherwise. She grew steadily more restive on her father’s secluded island. He visited as often as he could, but even if Manannan allowed him to move in, he doubted she would be content there.
    Would the Dark Man really take Grian, if he could not have Sive? Perhaps the risk was too great, even for him. Surely Manannan would stand against him, if it were his own daughter under threat.
    Derg’s brain would run in these circles all day if he allowed it. He was grateful for the busy day that awaited, a thousand details to arrange for the Winter Solstice games that began on the morrow.
    His man poked his head into the sunroom.
    “Pardon the interruption. Far Doirche asks to see you.”
    Derg grimaced. “Again? He has become quite the familiar face, hasn’t he?”
    “Indeed, sir.”
    Far Doirche’s periodic visits no longer made Derg’s heart pound in alarm. Several times a year, presumably when his travels brought him near, he stopped by to assure himself that Sive remained hidden to Derg as well as to the world.
    “His hazel rod?”
    “Checked at the outer gate with the guard, as required. Just that scrawny servant with him.”
    Derg sighed. “Let him in. Nothing to be gained by putting him off.”
    Far swept into the room and greeted Derg warmly, as a friend. Derg replied with polite caution, keeping a good distance between them, staff or no staff.
    The Dark Man piled his cloak into Oran’s arms and settled himself comfortably, before getting to the point.
    “You know I worry about Sive, alone in the wild.”
    “As do I,” replied Derg tartly.
    The sorcerer inclined his head sympathetically. “Of course. Still no word, I