The Dark Mirror by Juliet Marillier

men at arms were walking by a pack horse laden with bundles. “You’ll all be glad of a cup of mulled ale and a bite to eat, no doubt,” the cook added. “A chillday”
    If there was a touch of nervousness in Ferat’s tone, it was nothing to the mouth-drying, paralyzing anxiety that was gripping Bridei where he stood by Mara’s side. At this moment, the baby was in Brenna’s chamber being fed. He prayed that Tuala would not make a noise, not yet; not while his foster father looked so grim and weary. Not until Bridei had managed to collect himself and thinkof the right things to say.
    “Bridei!” A huge grin split Donal’s face, and he strode forward to clap his young friend heartily on the shoulder. Bridei grinned back, his woes receding; he could count on one firm ally here, at least. “You’ve grown apace, lad. See how big and strong he looks, my lord!”
    Broichan looked down, dark eyes, white face, long plaited hair. His features bore more lines thanbefore, and were as ever governed by such discipline that there was no telling what was on his mind.
    “Bridei,” he said gravely. “I am glad to see you well. You have paid good attention to your studies, I am certain.”
    “Yes, my lord.” Since Tuala had come, Bridei had got used to being one of the grown-ups, part of a household focused on the needs and demands of someone smaller. Now, abruptly,he was a child again. “I’ve done my best.”
    “I expected no less. Now I will retire to my own quarters awhile. Donal, assist me, will you? No, I don’t need anything—” waving away both Ferat and Mara with a touch of irritation that was quite out of character. “Water, perhaps. I’m sure the men will welcome your offers of sustenance; it’s been a long journey. Is there still an adequate guard aroundthe perimeters? How many men do you have up by the northern dike?”
    They were inside now, Broichan still questioning as he limped toward his private quarters, unable to conceal his need to lean on Donal’s arm.
    “I’ll check all that, my lord,” Donal said quietly. “Come, you’re home now, and you must rest. Leave these matters to us.”
    “Rest, rest,” the druid muttered bitterly, “I’ve been doing nothingbut rest these two moons past. I can’t afford the time. The days are over before there’s a chance to put two thoughts together. Long enough, that’s all I ask, just long enough . . . a pox on meddlers.”

    AS BABIES DO , Tuala made her presence known in her own time. There was a brief outburst in the shrill infant voice, a protestsoon stilled by Brenna’s soft voice saying, “Hush, hush, wee one, it’s all right . . .” Not long after, Broichan walked out to the hall, purple shadows like bruises under his eyes, knuckles white where he gripped the staff, and stood there before them all, not saying a thing. From beyond, in the small room where babe and wet-nurse lay, there was now no sound. At the table, Donal and the men whohad accompanied him wore their own masks of astonishment. Bridei had been working up to telling them the news, and both Ferat and Mara had been waiting for him to do it, seeing it as his job entirely.
    It seemed Broichan was not going to ask the question, so Donal did it for him.
    “Tell me that wasn’t an infant I just heard,” he managed. “Got a little secret you haven’t told us about, Mara?” Asa joke, it was pretty weak. Nobody so much as half smiled.
    Mara was looking at Bridei, and so was Ferat. There was a silence. A moment later Brenna, the child in her arms, her hair in wisps around her flushed face, for she, too, had been sleeping, appeared from the passageway and stopped dead, her eyes widening at the sight of the druid standing tall and grim opposite.
    Bridei rose to his feet.“My lord,” he said with what confidence he could summon, “this is Brenna. And Tuala. I was going to tell you . . .”
    “Bring the child here.”
    Such was Broichan’s tone that Brenna, the charming rose suddenly