Chương 124: Good Men and True

Máirín didn't mind shutting the tavern late. She often let her clientele drink themselves into spending just a few more coppers as late into the night as they liked - tips got bigger the deeper in their cups they sank. The only time she militantly ushered everyone out was on every other Thursday. No exceptions. But today was Tuesday, so it was nearly three hours past midnight before the last shambling Bodac staggered his way out of her door.

She did a modicum of cleaning up, sprinkled sawdust in certain unfortunate corners as an unwelcome surprise for when she opened up again the next day and inevitably remembered the dried puke she'd put off dealing with. With things as situated as she was willing to make them, she began shutting off the lamps that moved the interior from pitch black to barely visible.

"I think maybe you could stay open for one more drink," a voice sounded from the back corner. Máirín whirled, a blade of Water formed in her hand. It wasn't very sharp… kind of gloopy, really, but she'd had a few herself to cap off the night.

"We're closed. We've had plenty of open time for you to drink whatever pint of piss you prefer, and if you come back tomorrow you'll find your order ready. But for now, piss off." The figure in the dark wasn't large. Máirín had nearly half a head on whoever it was, and she herself wasn't tall for a Bodac. Nothing in that silhouette should have screamed danger to her and yet there was a powerful pull the shadow had. Like it was pulling in all the fórsa around it a little harder than anything else.

A Fourth, Máirín cursed to herself. They'll never just go away on my say-so.

"Relax, Máirín. I didn't think I had changed so much in just under a year!" Stepping into the light was none other than Róise. Darling Róise! The little orphan scamp with dreams of death and destruction!

"Bodac above, Róise!" Máirín dropped her blade and rushed over to wrap the small girl in a tight embrace. It was like hugging a statue - the power in those limbs was impossible to ignore.

"What in the world happened to you? I thought Cormac had gone off and finally gotten you killed!"

"He tried, but it didn't take," Róise said, her voice muffled as she struggled to find breath in the folds of Máirín's tunic.

"We've had a time of it, to be sure."

"And no mistake!" Máirín said, pulling back to look at her. The girl looked largely the same as the last time Máirín had seen her, but there was an intensity to her that was striking. Anyone would have thought a life on the streets of Shirren would harden anyone to as rough an edge as could be hewn, but here was proof before her that there were things out there with more danger than even this city could offer.

"You're a Fourth, by Bodac! How did you pull that off?"

"We found Cianán's Walk," Róise explained.

"You didn't go in!" Máirín shouted.

"We did. We… gods, Máirín, there's so much to tell. But first… what is the state of the rebellion?" Róise's eyes shone, and her mouth twisted into a grin.

"I think I can make a difference for sure now!" Máirín blinked.

"Ah. It's plans on plans, my love. Things are starting to fall into place. Séarlait's extending himself too thin, and the Shorinu are getting lazy with his absence in the city. Any day now will be the time to strike!"

"Any day now?" Róise stepped back, confused.

"Any day now was the day I left to find the Walk. Any day now was a decade ago when you first inducted me into your little club. I thought for sure when I came back it would be to a city embroiled in war! And you're telling me again 'any day now'?" Máirín snorted.

"Just so easy to start a war is it? You've been ten years a rebel and you think you know better than me how to save this city?"

"I know doing something means more than doing nothing," Róise spat.

"Every day that passes the taint of Shorinu infects this city deeper and deeper." Máirín tossed her dish towel on the bar.

"You want to die screaming slogans, that's on you, girlie. If you want to actually make a difference in this fight, you follow your leader's orders!" Róise sighed.

"The nature of Séarlait's involvement in the affairs of Shorinu is different than we thought." Máirín was so surprised that she failed to keep a look of fear from touching her face. Had Róise seen it? That girl didn't miss much. Indeed, Róise's eyes narrowed. Her mouth tightened.

"That's not news to you." Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"Rebellion's a tangled web," Máirín blustered.

"We always know more than we let on." Róise looked so incredibly sad for a moment, then turned to the ragged little piano that sat in the corner.

"It's so strange being back here," she whispered.

"I'm remembering all sorts of things I didn't even know I'd forgotten."

"Like how to respect your elders?" Máirín quipped, trying to detour them from whatever path this was taking them on. Róise played a single note on the piano.

"Like old songs," she said. Then, slowly, hauntingly, she began to sing. The pixie had never been a performer. She had the Folksong adept class, but Máirín could think of only a handful of times she'd ever heard the girl belt into song herself. There must be something in the song itself Róise wanted to convey. Her voice was thin and fragile, with a shake that could be heard as either nerves or vibrato, depending on the situation. Good men and true in this house who dwell, To a stranger buachaill I pray you tell.

Is the priest at home or can he be seen?

'Tis easy speaking with Father Greene. The priest is at home boy and can be seen.

'Tis easy speaking with Father Greene. But you must wait till I go and see, Is the holy father alone maybe. The youth has entered an empty hall; What a lonely sound as his light footfall. In a gloomy chamber chill and bare Sat a vested priest in a lonely chair. The youth has knelt now to tell his sins. In ainm an Dé the youth begins; At mea culpa he beats his breast And in broken murmurs he speaks the rest.

'At the Siege, did my father fall. And then later, my brothers all. I alone am left of my name and race; I will go and take their place. I cursed three times, since last I prayed. At Mass time once, I went to play. I passed a churchyard one day in haste, And forgot to pray for my mother's rest. I bear no hate against living things, But I love my country above my king. So Father, bless me and let me go To die if God has ordained it so.' The priest said nought but a rustling noise.

Made the youth look up in a wild surprise! The robes were off, and a scarlet there Sat a yeoman captain with fiery glare. With fiery glare and with fury holds Instead of a blessing he breathes a curse.'' Twas a good thought boy, to come here and shrive, For one short hour is your time to live.'

'Twas in the old land this young man died, And for the old land his body lies. And ye young people that do pass by Breathe a prayer and tear for the Fenian Boy. The world was swaying and Máirín considered that perhaps she'd had more to cap off the night than she'd realized.

"A lovely sad song, I always thought that one was," she said.

"What is the purpose of the rebel cell you lead?" Róise asked coldly.

"We are one of many such cells that act as lures for the disaffected of Shirren," Máirín confessed. Speaking this out loud wasn't disturbing at all for her for some reason, even though it was her most closely guarded secret.

"We burn off their anger with protest songs, and drinking, and ranting about politics and oppression. They come to the bar, we yell and argue and curse. It's all in good fun, but in the end nothing really happens."

"Why?" Róise's voice broke, and Máirín could feel this song's effect almost drop, but she regained her composure.

"Why would you waste so much time and passion and fury on doing nothing?"

"Caolán Séarlait paid us to," Máirín said, as if it should be obvious.

"He needed his businesses to grow. Without economic power he could never take on Shorinu, and unrest in the city would hurt his business. Two gold a month," she said proudly. Róise's hand on the side of the piano splintered the wood.

"Caolán Séarlait paid you to waste the fury of this city. So he could make more money."

"To the same end!" Máirín explained.

"What can we do? A dozen drunks in a bar. But what could someone like Caolán Séarlait do? He could save the city!"

"By driving people like you out of it!" Róise shouted.

"Gods! I can't believe how much I believed in you, Máirín! You're not a rebel," she said, her voice trailing off.

"You're not even a Bodac." Róise leaned in, her lips curled back in hatred as she let the song drop.

"You're a gods-damned Will-O'-the-Wisp." Máirín growled and slapped her adopted ward - only for Róise to catch her hand in an iron grip. Róise flung the hand away and stalked over to the door.

"Well, tell your other Wisp brethren that starting today, the war starts for real. And there's nothing anyone - not even Caolán gods-damned Séarlait - can do to stop it." Máirín drooped down to a bar stool shaking. She meant it. Róise really believed she could set the country to war. The problem was… Máirín was beginning to believe it too.