Juliet Marillier - Heir to Sevenwaters

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This book could not have been what it is without the assistance of my family. I thank Ben for brainstorming the original story with me, and Elly and Simon for reading the manuscript and helping me with plotting. My writers group gave me useful feedback along the way and kept me working through the difficult patches.

Im immensely grateful to the three editors who have worked on the book: Brianne Tunnicliffe at Pan Macmillan Australia, Anne Sowards at Roc, and Stefanie Bierwerth at Tor UK. Heartfelt thanks to Gage Godfrey-Nicholls for her beautiful Sevenwaters family tree. A special thank-you to my Australian copyeditor, Julia Stiles, for an excellent job. Cate Paterson at Pan Macmillan has continued to be a source of great support.

My agent, Russell Galen, has assisted me during the planning and writing of this book with his usual blend of professionalism and common sense.

Heir to Sevenwaters is dedicated to my mother, who died in mid-2007. Mum, thank you for reading my handwritten childhood sagas with such patience, and for always saying nice things about them! Thank you for teaching me the value of storytelling. You encouraged me to dream.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Juliet Marillier was born in Dunedin, New Zealand, a town with strong Scottish roots. She graduated from the University of Otago with degrees in languages and music, and has had a varied career that includes teaching and performing music as well as working in government agencies.

Juliet now lives in a hundred-year-old cottage near the river in Perth, Western Australia, where she writes full-time. She is a member of the druid order OBOD. Juliet shares her home with two dogs and a cat.

Juliets historical fantasy novels are published internationally and have won a number of awards. Visit her Web site at www.julietmarillier.com.

CHAPTER 1

My fingers numb with cold, I fastened a length of gold-embroidered ribbon around the hawthorn and murmured a prayer to whatever spirits might be listening. When its time for the baby to be born, please dont let my mother die. Another ribbon, higher up in branches burgeoning with springs fresh green. And please let the child be healthy. A third, slipped between twigs that scratched my skin, drawing bright blood. And if you can, make it be a boy. Mother wants a son more than anything in the world.

I thrust my hands back into my sheepskin mittens and closed my eyes a moment to gather my thoughts. The lone hawthorn, which stood in a clearing within the great forest of Sevenwaters, was hung about with many offerings: ribbons, laces, scraps of wool and strings of wooden beads. Such solitary thorns were known to be gathering places for spirits. Until my mother had grown so heavy with child that she could no longer walk here safely, she had come every day with a token to place on the tree and a prayer that she might at long last be granted a healthy son. Now I carried out the ritual in her place.

It was time to head for home again. My sister was getting married in the morning and I had a lot to do. Deirdre and I were twins. She was slightly my elder, but I was the one who had inherited the household responsibilities Mother was too tired to deal with any longer. It made sense. Deirdre was going. Tomorrow afternoon she and her new husband, Illann, would be riding back to his home in the south and she would have her own household to manage. I was staying. For the foreseeable future my life would be taken up with supervising serving people, ordering and checking supplies, solving domestic disputes and keeping an eye on my two youngest sisters, Sibeal and Eilis. I hadnt expected this, but then, nobody had expected Mother to conceive another child so late in life. Now we were all on edge. Mother called this a gift from the gods. The rest of us tiptoed around the subject, fearful of speaking the unpalatable truth. Women of her age did not deliver healthy babes. Like as not, within two turnings of the moon she and the child would both be dead.

Thank you, I said over my shoulder as I walked away from the hawthorn and into the shade of the forest. It was best to keep on the good side of the Fair Folk, whatever ones opinion of them. The forest of Sevenwaters was as much their home as it was ours. Long ago, our family had been entrusted with the task of keeping the place safe for them. This was one of the last refuges of the ancient races anywhere in Erin, for the great forests were being felled for grazing and the Christian religion had spread widely, displacing druids and wise women. The old faith was practiced only in the most protected and secret pockets of the land. Sevenwaters was one of these.

The path home wound its way through dense oak woods before descending to the lake shore. On another day Id have enjoyed going slowly, drinking in the myriad shades of green, the delicate music of birdsong, the dappled light on the forest floor. Today I must make haste, for by nightfall our house would be full of guests and a long list of tasks lay before me. I owed it to my parents to ensure the domestic arrangements went as smoothly as if Mother herself were supervising them. I knew Father would have preferred Deirdres wedding to be later, perhaps in the autumn, and not just because Mother was so frail right now. But once Illann had set eyes on my twin hed wanted to marry her without delay, and Father had judged the alliance to be too valuable to be put at risk by insisting they wait. Illann was a chieftain of the southern U Nill and a close kinsman of the High King. It was the kind of match people called brilliant. Fortunately, Deirdre seemed to like Illann almost as much as he liked her. Shed been bubbling with excitement since the day she first met him.

The oaks towered over me, their mossy boles glowing in the filtered sunlight. My feet were quiet on the soft earth of the forest path. Between the trees, on the very edge of sight, moved evanescent beings, gossamer fine, shadow swift. In the rich litter of debris that lay around the roots of the great oaks tiny creatures stirred, scuttling, creaking, whispering. The forest of Sevenwaters was home to many. Badger, deer and hare, beetle, warbler and dragonfly lived side by side with the more otherworldly inhabitants of the wood. It would be strange for Deirdre to leave all this. Her new husbands holding, Dun na Ri, shared a border with the southwestern part of Fathers land, but I knew nowhere could be like Sevenwaters.

As soon as I got back to the house I would make sure my younger sisters had their gowns ready for tonights feast. Id find an opportunity to speak with Father alone so I could see how he was; I knew Mothers tiredness was troubling him. I hoped I could reassure him. And Id ease Mothers mind by letting her know that everything was under control. I should speak to my two druid uncles as soon as they arrived. Conor needed to be asked if the plans for tomorrows spring ritual and hand-fasting suited him. Ciarn would want a place to retreat to. He came to our home quite often to work with Sibeal on druidic lore, for she would almost certainly join that community herself in a few years time. Tutoring his young student in the garden or in the peace and quiet of an isolated chamber was one thing; facing a house full of visitors was quite another. Ciarn was acutely uncomfortable with crowds. Besides, he sometimes brought his raven with him. Folk found the bird unsettling.

The path narrowed, snaking between groves of closely growing elders whose narrow trunks formed graceful, bending shapes like those of leaning dryads. The foliage stirred in the breeze and I felt suddenly cold. Someone was watching me; I sensed it. I glanced around but could see nobody. Whos there? I called. There was no reply, only the whisper of the leaves and the cry of a bird passing overhead. My flesh rose in goose bumps. Our home was extremely well guarded; Fathers men-at-arms were expert. Besides, the forest protected its own. Nobody came in by stealth. If a member of our household was out there, why hadnt anyone answered when I called?