The Bardic Academy (A Bard Without a Star, Book 3) by Michael A. Hooten Page B

meet you and see what type of man and leader
you are.’
    “‘Here I am,’
he said. ‘What more do you need?’
    “‘Well’, I
said, ‘it would be nice to see how you interact with your people.’
    “‘I don’t
think so,’ Math said. ‘You have a habit of humiliating leaders in front of
their people, and I will not have that.’
    “‘And how
can you stop me?’ I said with a laugh.
    “‘By
commanding you as lord of my land to depart to your own realm,” he said.
    “Well, that
set me back. It is not well known that I have little power on land except what
is allowed me. Most mortals assume that they cannot stand against a god, and
do not try, but mortals are connected to the land, and I am not. So they can
command me, and Math knew it. ‘May I ask how you learned this?’ I asked him.
    “‘The wise
man listens when others speak,’ he said, which is the exact advice I once gave
Taliesin. So I bowed to him and left.” Mannanan scratched his ear. “I never
have visited Caer Dathyl, and now I hear that there is a new lord, one that
will establish himself at Caer Don, and leave the tower fallen.”
    “Bran,”
Fidgen said.
    “What do
you think?” Mannanan asked. “How would he handle a visit from myself?”
    “Hard to
say,” Fidgen said with a shrug. “He keeps his own counsel, that one.”
    “Interesting,”
Mannanan said. “Perhaps I’ll visit Gwynedd again after this. Now, you were going
to tell me how you met Epona, and what she offered you.”
    Looking out
over the waves of grass, Fidgen told his story, using all the techniques he had
learned in Duvnecht, but being careful not to stray from the truth in any way.
When he finished, Mannanan looked thoughtful. “Epona is one of those people
who is awfully hard to impress,” he said. “It sounds like you were able to,
and that means you have another powerful ally.”
    “Ally for
what?” Fidgen said. “I’m just trying to become a bard, and figure out how to
resolve my past. What does everyone see in my future?”
    “Me?”
Mannanan said. “I see one of the most promising men in many generations, who
could be a great force for either good or ill.”
    Fidgen
sighed. “I don’t want to do anything right now but earn the star.”
    “And I’m
sure you will,” Mannanan said. “But there is the rest of your life after that,
you know.” He looked out over the plain. “We’re about to the coast. Tell the
boat to stop, or you’ll ground us in the surf.”
    He looked,
and sure enough, he saw the sea ahead, but instead of waves lapping the beach,
he saw sand lapping waves that looked like turf. Two great white horses
harnessed to an ornate chariot munched the white caps contentedly. “Stop,”
Fidgen said. The oars dipped straight down, slowing them rapidly, and Mannanan
instructed him to turn the tiller so that they ended up parallel to the shore.
He lowered the gangplank over the side, and Fidgen led his horse off the
strange ship. As soon as he stood on land again, his sight shifted back to
seeing the land as solid and the ocean as moving, but the ship and the chariot
still sat on patches that defied the natural order.
    Mannanan
stepped up next to him. “Confusing, isn’t it?” he said.
    “Yes,”
Fidgen said. “But I imagine you get used to it.”
    “You know,
I’ve had many mortals ride in my landship, but few could make it move,”
Mannanan said. “Amergin was the last, I think, but he had to work at it. You
just did it without even thinking about whether it was possible.”
    “You seemed
to think I could,” Fidgen said. “So I did.”
    “It was
actually supposed to be a test. Don’t worry; you passed it quite easily,” he
said with a wink.
    “Is it my
imagination, or is it colder here?” Fidgen said.
    “Ah, that.”
Mannanan rubbed the back of his head, and looked a bit sheepish. “I forgot to
mention that time sometimes shifts a bit when mortals spend time with gods.”
    “How long
have we been gone in mortal