The Time Roads

I met their gazes with a smile. Lord Ó Rothláin shrugged, but Lord Ó Tíghearnaigh twitched nervously. If I were to believe the account from Breandan’s history book, Ó Tíghearnaigh had resisted Ó Rothláin’s bribes at first. It was only the last few months that he had succumbed to his own desires for a greater and grander army.

“Here is my proposal,” I told them. “I wish to include Anglia, Manx, Wight, and Cymru in my Union of Nations. Further, I wish to make provisions for their representation in our Congress.”

“You wish to grant the radicals their demands,” Ó Rothláin said.

“Perhaps. Perhaps they have the right of it. What about you, my lord? Did you make these ghastly devices available to the Anglian radicals because you believe in their cause? Or because you think to win favors with the Prussians?”

“It’s a lie,” Ó Tíghearnaigh burst out. “I never meant—”

“Shut up, you fool.”

If I had not already known which one had suborned the other, I would have now.

“I have the evidence to execute you both,” I said. “Or I could call a trial for you and all your family and associates. Or … I might offer you clemency. Support my proposal for the Dependencies, and I promise not to prosecute you.”

* * *

We argued for the remainder of that day and into the night. In the end, in the face of evidence, Lord Ó Rothláin agreed to persuade his faction to vote in favor of my plans. Lord Ó Tíghearnaigh proved less tractable, but in the end, he consented not to oppose me. On Tuesday morning, at ten o’clock, the Congress of Éire met to consider the matter of our Dependencies. Once, only once, that morning I dared to open my history book. The ink had blurred and the text shifted from one prophecy to another.

* * *

As the members of my Council and my Congress filed out of the chamber, I leaned back and closed my eyes. Victory. I hardly dared to admit the word, even in the silence of my thoughts. A temporary victory, I amended. Once the terror of these past few attacks had faded, these same congressmen would attempt to nibble away at my provisions for Anglia and its sister districts.

Gradually their footsteps receded and I was left in the silence of an empty room. I opened my eyes to the uncertain sunlight of a late March afternoon. Shadows flickered over the windows, as clouds drifted past the face of the sun, and there was a hint of rain in the air. I smiled. When was there ever not?

I stood—with amazing ease. I had expected to be utterly drained. So much accomplished in this morning, and yet so much more remained to be done. I was not fool enough to think we were finished with the future. It came to us step by step, fed by our desires and our ignorance. Even with Breándan’s gift, I could not control all the possible paths.

Coilín waited for me outside the chamber. “Your Majesty. Commander Ábraham reports the Garda has arrested Strong and his associates, and they shall have all the devices from Osraighe secured before nightfall. He has notified the other nations as well, so that they can take measures.”

“And our friends in Anglia and Wight and the rest of the Districts?”

“Watched and guarded, Your Majesty. There shall be no more accidents. Lord Ó Duinn himself has promised it.”

I resisted the urge to retreat to my private apartments to consult my history book. I had two more necessary tasks to accomplish, before I could grant myself the solitude and sleep I craved.

To Coilín, I said, “I shall require an official copy of the proclamation, concerning my Union, as well as unofficial copies of the proposed amendments with regard to the Dependencies. Send for a motorcar, and have the copies ready when I return.”

The hospital where the victims from Sunday’s attack lay on the northwest edge of the city. The chief surgeon himself met me at the front doors, having received word from my secretary to expect me. They had placed Aidrean Ó Deághaidh in one of the private wards, he explained, as he escorted me through the corridors. The commander had slept only fretfully these past two days, in spite of the laudanum.

“He escaped the blast itself, but a section of the stone wall crushed the knee. We were able to avoid amputation, but barely. Even so, I fear he will never recover full use of his leg. The worst danger now, of course, is infection. He must sleep before he can heal, Your Majesty.”

We had just arrived at Aidrean’s room. “A quarter hour is all I ask,” I said. “No longer.”

The man withdrew. I entered alone and shut the door behind me.

The air was heavy with the scents of soap and antiseptic. A whispery breeze from a half-open window, however, brought with it a trace of damp earth, and the first ripe scent of the approaching spring.

Aidrean lay motionless on his bed. Bandages swathed his head and half his face. One leg had been braced and splinted. As I moved toward him, I took in more details of his injuries. The purpling bruises, the swollen jaw. The one hand lying limp by his side, encased in bandages almost to the fingertips. His dark complexion was gray in the sunlight, and he breathed unsteadily.

Oh, my friend.

&n

bsp; As I approached his side, his eyes fluttered open.

“My Queen.”

His voice was hardly more than a whisper. I gathered his hand loosely in both of mine. “My friend. I have come with good news. And a request.”