He'd been observing her closely these last two weeks, and while she couldn't be calledgoodby any means, she'd improved dramatically, though he could tell that Mary herself could not see it. He was actually very impressed by her efforts, and humbled, too; he couldn't remember the last time he had been so wrong about a person as he had been about Mary when he'd been reluctant to train her. He hadn't spoken to Senan about her yet, but he knew that when he did, his friend and mentor would serve him withI told ye so— and he'd be right.
Cailean felt a bit nervous about the idea he'd had for the afternoon, but he couldn't and wouldn't let himself focus on that right now. After all, though the session was done, the morning's extended training for the most dedicated of warriors was still to be completed.
Fergus looked up as Cailean spoke and nodded toward the men and women who were currently free-sparring while they waited for his next command. To his amazement, they had not defaulted back to what they were used to. They wereallfighting with their non-dominant hands, each and every one of them, and more than that, they were doingeverythingon their non-dominant side. As he watched, left-handed Darren held out his right hand to help up an opponent. Young Dirk fought with his right hand tucked behind his back.
"What are they doin'?" Cailean asked, marveling at the sight before him.
"Followin' yer orders," Fergus replied. "Ye want us tae learn tae overcome our weaknesses? Then we're gonnae make them our strengths."
"But the session is over. Me orders dinnae stand the whole time," Cailean protested. "This is the time for their free sparrin'."
Fergus shrugged. "I'm goin' tae join them. Ye should stay here, though."
"Why?"
Fergus pointed, and Cailean turned to see Kier and Senan approaching, both watching the sparring matches intently. Fergus hurried off to join in, but Cailean remained where he was, knowing that the two councilmen would definitely have something to say.
"Lads, lassies, if ye drop yer swords anymore, ye're gonnae lose them," Senan called out to general laughter from the gathered fighters. "Did ye stick yer hands in the butter this mornin'?"
Kier let out a deep guffaw. "As if we can afford butter," he joked, though it wasn't far from the truth. “And leave them be, Senan. Let them fight like they're underwater if they want tae."
Cailean stood there, amused, watching as the mentors teased the trainees and the fighters lobbed back joking insults and comments in turn. It was one of the things he loved most about this place, this life he lived, this family that he had managed to gather around him. They were all like brothers and sisters, unafraid to jokingly tease one another, knowing that each of them had the back of all the others.
After some time, Kier said, "But it is a clever way tae cover their weaknesses, indeed," he mused. "Learn tae fight with yer weak hand, and in response ye'll have two strong."
"Clever indeed," Senan agreed. "And one that I try tae instill in them whenever I have a person one tae one, but they never listen tae me. I guess this old man doesnae ken what he's talkin' about with these young ones."
"That's nae true," Cailean responded automatically.
Both councilmen turned to look at him, both wearing identical knowing looks on their faces. Senan said, "All I see in front of me is a group of men and women trainin' in a way I couldnae make them when I tried, without any direct instruction. Tell me, how do ye think such a thing happened?"
"They're good fighters. They'd have worked it out eventually," Cailean replied with a shrug. "They're just takin' the initiative, the way that any good fighter would."
"Aye, from an ideayegave them," Kier responded. "Dinnae try tae evade it. We heard what young Fergus was sayin' tae ye while we were makin' our way over here. This was yer initiative, aye?"
Cailean shrugged. "Aye, I suppose it was."
Kier smiled a little knowingly. "Aye," he said. "Aye. And look at them now. Nae bad for someone who's 'naebody special at all', eh?"
Feeling his own words from a while back thrown back at him, Cailean tried to hide the shock he felt in his heart. He wasn't sure he was ready to confront exactly why the men were following him so closely, or why his simple words seemed to have commanded such respect. Very few of them knew who he was, so why was it that they were now all sparring in a way that must cause him some discomfort? Was it just on his say-so?
For just a moment, Cailean saw through his own denial of leadership that he'd held so tightly for so long. He never wanted to be in charge, never wanted to embrace his bloodright or his destiny. He never wanted to believe that it was true. But… what if it was? What if he really was gifted, not by some divine right of kings but by something in his heritage that made him a leader?
No. He didn't want that. He shied away from the very idea, even as he was forced to acknowledge that he had already taken a leadership role, whether he wanted it or not. After all, was he not the person who ran the training every day? Was he not the one who issued commands and made sure that the warriors were on track?
He felt suddenly confused, unable to understand the conflicting emotions inside of him. Pushing them away, he simply said, "Ye're overreachin'. I'm just doin' me job, just as we all are. Each of us has a role tae play."
"Hm," Senan put in. "But what role is yers?"
Maeve sat on a stool outside the stable, her heart pounding with anticipation as she stared out over the horizon. The sun wasstarting to set — she had figured out that Cailean would want to meet her after afternoon training was done — and it was growing a little chilly. She wore a long, thick cloak and she pulled it tighter around herself, glad for the cold as it gave her a reason to keep her identity to herself should they leave the safety of the camp.
What could Cailean want with her? She'd been playing it over and over in her mind since the morning, but she'd been unable to come up with any good answer that made her feel satisfied. If he'd wanted to offer her one-on-one training, then surely he would have asked her to meet him at the training field, not the stables. If he wanted to scold her for some reason, then it was more likely that he'd have done so earlier, or simply avoided her. No matter what answer she came up with about why he might have called her there, she found another reason that this didn't make any sense.
At last, the large figure that was Cailean appeared over the slight hill, wearing a long, nondescript cloak that was very similar to her own. With a start, she realized that it was a traveling cloak. Were they going somewhere, then? The thought made her almost as excited as she was nervous; she hadn't left the camp since she arrived two weeks ago, and after a lifetime of being trapped in one place or another, her curiosity was on high alert. However, she was fully aware that she needed to lay low and keep herself anonymous. The Darachs would still be looking for her, so wherever Cailean took her, she'd need to be careful.
"Ye came," Cailean said as he reached her. "Good."'
He went inside the stable without saying anything else to her, and a few minutes later, he exited leading a dark horse by the reins. One of the stableboys followed, leading the white horse that Maeve had arrived upon.
