Connor—Connor’s Responsibility

	They had only been on the road for an hour and a half, and Connor was beginning to wish he hadn't insisted on coming along.  The day was hot and still, with just enough of a breeze to remind him of how hot he was.  The sunlight that was reflected off of the armor of the scouts ahead of him made his head throb.  There wasn't any going back now, though.  They were expected at the rendezvous point in an hour, and he had promised to lead the bulk of the army to Oseille himself.  So he stifled a yawn with his free hand, and shifted in his saddle in an attempt to make it more comfortable.  The leather was old and cracked, and it pinched him in indelicate places whenever he shifted too much.  
	What was worse was his growing sense of doubt about the whole thing.  He had spent half the night trying to pray, but he hadn’t heard anything but his own voice.  He hadn't really expected anything different, of course.  The priests all warned that answers from Above didn't come like that.  But, just once, it would be nice if things were made a little more clear.  To comfort himself, he’d stolen a bottle of  wine, and drunk a third of it before the sun was up.  Now he had a hangover on top of the headache he'd already had from not sleeping, and he was angry at himself for the theft.  He was supposed to be purging himself of his sins.
	Gradually, he became aware that all of the scouts' horses around him were standing still.  He pulled back on the reins, to keep from running into the back of the horse ahead of him, but Thirteen had already stopped.  She stamped a hoof impatiently and shook her head at him in what he took to be a disapproving manner..  While he gathered up his reins, and his dignity, his scouts drew close around him.  Maura, their captain, backed her charger up next to him, blocking him into a little box of horses and armor.  She had her sword drawn, and the tip of her tail quivered back and forth with excitement.
	“Can you fight?” she said.
	“I can take care of myself,” said Connor.
	“That's not what I asked,” she said.
	She fidgeted with her horse's mane for a moment.  Then she drew her sword and held it out.
	“There’s a rider approaching from the east.  They don’t look like a fighter, but I don’t think we should take that risk,” she said.
	He ignored the sword for now, but turned to look back up the road.  They had stopped on a broad hill that had a clear view of the road in both directions.  It was risky, and left them just as visible to anyone on the road.  It was worth it, though, because from the top, they could see for at least a couple of miles.  The glare of the sun was such that he had to shield his eyes and squint.  But he could just make out a big, black horse coming straight for them at a gallop.  If they didn't slow down, they would reach his scouts in just a few minutes.
	“It's an open road.  Just leave them alone,” he said.
	“Do you really think that's wise?  My lord, if I could just suggest--”
	“No.  Keep an eye on them, but don't do anything, unless I tell you to.”
	She clucked her tongue, and her horse moved a few steps closer so she could snatch the reins out of Connor's hands.  Thirteen balked at the unfamiliar touch, and pulled in the opposite direction, until Maura had to let go to keep from being pulled out of her saddle.
	“You really should come away with me, then.  If they are dangerous, we can’t risk getting you hurt,” she said.
	Connor drew the reins back up and wrapped them around his wrists.  He pulled his left arm back, and Thirteen quieted at once.  She didn’t always do what he wanted, but she could be relied on when he needed her.
	“If they are, where could you take me that would be any safer than where we are now?” he said.
	He dropped the reins and stood up in the saddle to get a better look.  The rider was halfway to them, and had reached the point in the road where it dipped down before it climbed the hill they were on.  But he knew the horse, without any doubt.  He'd never had another horse as big as Embarr, or who could run with the same smooth motion that made him look like he was gliding across the ground.  Ciara was lying flat across the stallion's back, so he couldn't see her face, but he couldn't help smiling a little.  Just for a moment, he could have the last nine years back.
	“This is taking too long,” said Maura “We need to do something, now.”
	She barked an order, and one of her lieutenants broke away from the group and trotted up between them.  He carried a compact bow, which he wore slung across his back.  At the captain's signal, he unslung the bow and knocked a heavy, barbed arrow to the string.  The sight of it made Connor’s mouth go dry.
	“Don't you dare.  She's on my road, and under my protection,” he said.
	“It's too late for that,” said the captain.  
	She barked again, and her lieutenant raised the bow to take aim.
	“Put the damned bow away.  I'm not going to tell any of you again.  If anyone shoots at her, I will break both their arms,”  he said.
	  He grabbed the lieutenant's wrist and yanked, hard.  The tip of the arrow swung wildly, and the boy's aim should have been spoiled.  But nobody could become a cavalry officer without extensive training in mounted combat, and when it was loosed, the shot was still accurate enough to stop the breath in Connor’s throat.
	The arrow couldn't miss.  Even if Ciara had seen the lieutenant raise his bow, she was too close to avoid being hit.  He wanted to kick Thirteen into a gallop and race the arrow to her, knowing that she would be dead before he could reach her.  There was shouting all around him, and he could feel someone tugging at his arm, but all he could see was Ciara lying in the road.  He raised his legs to kick, but his boots were too heavy, and his feet slid limply out of the stirrups.
	Embarr swerved left, as easily as stepping around a rock, and Connor heard the arrow hit the ground.  The stallion slowed as he got close to the base of the hill, and Ciara sat up and stretched.  That, he thought, was just typical of the girl.  If she was aware of what had happened, she didn't show any sign of it.  He breathed out again, and after a minute, he remember to let got of the lieutenant's arm. The pup dropped his bow and retreated back to the safety of his comrades.  
	Maura yanked her horse around to face all of them, ears flat.
	“I'm not going to take you another mile unless you promise, right now, to do as I tell you.  You don't know anything about what you're getting into, and I have to keep you alive,” she said.
	“If that means killing innocent people, then it isn't worth it,” he said.
	“And what about us?” she said.
	“You all swore an oath to me.  That means if I tell you not to shoot someone,  you listen.”
	Maura sulked and toyed with her sword, pulling it halfway out of its sheath and slamming it back in again.  She wanted to scream at him again, he could see it in the set of her mouth.  But, like everyone else in Cearnach, including him, she was a slave to tradition.
	“Who is this girl?  She'd better be damned important, to put all of us at risk like this,” said Maura.
	“She's my daughter,” he said.
	Maura actually looked surprised.  By now, everyone knew about his brief affair with Deirdre.  But it wasn't something that was ever mentioned.  He didn't have to be ashamed of what he'd done, because everyone else was for him.
	“You stay here and get everyone ready to move out again.  This won't take long,” he said.
	He slapped the reins on Thirteen's neck, a bit too hard, and she trotted down the hill to where Ciara was waiting for him, arms folded.  As he got closer, he was struck by how tired she looked, and how beautiful she was.  He couldn't remember, now, if he'd ever told her that.
	Thirteen stopped when she and Embarr bumped noses, and the black horse took two steps back.  Ciara quieted him with a pat on the neck, and that was the only time Connor saw her look away.
	“You lied to me,” she said.  
	Her breath came in sharp pants, as if she had run all the way from the city, and she was trembling.  Under her, Embarr stretched out his neck and brushed his muzzle against Thirteen’s.  She whickered, and nuzzled him in return.
	“I didn’t lie, not exactly.  I just hadn’t realized just how far everything had already gone,” he said.
	“I don't believe you.  You're their king, you can't tell me that you're not the first person to know everything,” she said.
	“I'm not.  I just run the city.  Everything else gets filtered and distilled before it gets to me.”
	“You're just making excuses.”
	She was shouting now and, up on the hill, everyone was watching them.  Nobody would dare say a word to him, but he knew that this was something that would be talked about for months.  He urged Thirteen closer, and lowered his voice.
	“I know how it looks, and I don't blame you for being angry.  But this isn't the time, or place, for this conversation,” he said.
	“I thought you'd try that.  But we're years past the time when you could send me to my room,” she said.
	Thirteen took another step closer, and stretched out her neck, so that her chin was just resting on Embarr’s shoulder.  Embarr snorted and cocked his ears back at this liberty, but that was all the protest he offered.  Connor smiled a little, and leaned forward to scratch Embarr between the ears.
	“These two are happy to see each other, at least,” he said.
	“Where on earth did you get her?  The last horse that got this close to him lost an ear,” said Ciara.
	“She's his daughter.”
	“Great.  Leave it up to us to break up another family.”
	Ciara swatted Embarr lightly across the back of the neck with a lock of his mane, and he stamped a hoof at her, which made her smile.  Connor's headache, which he'd forgotten in the excitement, was starting to come back, and he pulled the wine bottle out of his saddle bag.  It was a good vintage, if a bit sour, and it wouldn't take much to make him feel better again.
	“You shouldn’t be out here,” he said.
	Ciara snorted, and cast a significant glance towads the wine bottle.  He took a  mouthful, and held it out to her.
	“I ought to take this away from you.  You won't be any good to anyone, if you show up drunk,” she said.
	“I'm no use to anyone anyway.  I know that's what they think up on the hill,” he said.
	“I don't want to hear any self pity today, either.  Make your choice, right now, and stick with it.”
	“What about you?”
	“I'm not going away,” she said.
	She took the bottle from him and drank.  When she raised her head, the sunlight shone on her white throat, and he saw her sisters, waiting for her.  It was only for a moment, but that was enough to send sick chills into the pit of his stomach.  He wanted, very much, to give in to her and to take her back home, where she would be safe.  Sabia could have whatever she wanted, if she would only leave them alone so he could have his daughter back.  But Marcan would find a way to start the war without him, and then he wouldn't have any control over it at all.
	“You know that I love you, right?” he said.
	“You've always said you do.  But I wonder sometimes, because whenever you see me, you run away.”
	“Maybe.  But it isn't like that now.  It's dangerous for you out here, and I want you to go home, so you don't get hurt.”
	“And what about you?” she said.
	She sounded on the verge of tears, and he reached out to stroke her cheek.  But she drew back from him, and pushed his hand away.
	“I’ll be okay,” he said.
	“No, you won’t.  You’re going to get killed, and I hardly even know you.”
	“It's just a scouting mission.  I won't be near any real fighting.”
	He reached out again, and she ducked him by pulling on Embarr's mane until he backed up.  Thirteen whinnied and tried to follow them, but Connor held her where she was.
	“Am I really so bad that you can’t stand to be around me?” said Ciara.
	“Of course not.  But you have to understand--”
	“I’ve spent all of my life understanding.”
	Her voice was thick with unshed tears, and that hurt him more than the distance between them.  But they had already wasted too much time.  He couldn't afford to let Sabia get to Oseille before he did.
	“Go back home, please.  I know how you feel, but you'll understand when you're a little older,” he said.
	He turned Thirteen around and rode back to his troops, before he could change his mind.  He let Maura shout them back into formation, and he let her take the lead when they started moving again. She actually smiled at him as she rode past to take her position, the earlier bruise to her ego already forgotten.
	Just before they reached the bottom of the hill, he looked back for Ciara.  She was as stubborn as her mother, and he'd expected her follow them down.  He was surprised, then, to find that she was gone.  It really was for the best, to keep her safe, and he felt relieved that she had listened to him.  But his relief was tempered with guilt at having left her behind once again.