Page 23 of Rise of the Morrigan
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For the thirdtime Sétanta told the tale of Ceridwen and Taliesin and for the third time, his audience cheered him loudly.
"Quite impressive," Iolo said, squeezing his young apprentice's shoulder. "Especially considering you've told this same audience the exact same tale three times."
"You would think they would get bored of it," Sétanta chuckled. "They are like children, eager to hear the same stories time and time again."
Iolo smiled wide. "A good bard awakens the child in all his hearers. I'm proud of you, Sétanta."
"As am I," another man said—his voice was familiar, but he hadn't heard it in nearly five cycles, not since before he'd joined the troop at Emain Macha. Sétanta quickly turned and standing in front of him was Conchobar, King of Ulster and Sétanta's uncle.
Sétanta furrowed his brow. "How did you find me?"
The king cracked a half-smile. "I've known you were here all the while. I thought to compel your return sooner, but I was counseled otherwise. No hero who has before possessed the ríastrad learned to tame the wolf overnight."
Sétanta's heart sank into his stomach. "You know... how do you know?"
"I've known for some time, nephew. Ever since you bested the Fomorian..."
"How did you know?"
"When you did not turn up in time for the planned feast we sent scouts to find you..."
"You feared for my safety?"
The king nodded. "And the people were growing restless in anticipation of the feast."
"Of course," Sétanta said, rolling his eyes. "It's just like the people of Ulster to care more for their bellies than for the safety of the king's bastard nephew."
"Is that how you imagine the people think of you?"
"Of course it is," Sétanta said. "I've noticed the whispering behind my back."
"They whisper because you show promise! Promise to be the hero we've longed for. The people's gossip is not at all at your expense!"
"And now that you know that I have the ríastrad..."
"When you abandoned us I knew that the ríastrad must have had something to do with it. I knew you must have been afraid. Who wouldn't be? And I also knew the heroes of legend, those who had the ríastrad before, every one of them, endured some kind of trial in an effort to master the warrior within."
"The monster, you mean?"
"It is a matter of perspective, is it not?"
Sétanta shook his head. "But I don'twantto be a warrior."
"Some things about our lives we choose for ourselves. Others are given to us, expected of us, writ into our destinies."
"I don't want that destiny."
"You can fight it if you wish. But you cannot denywhatyou are."
"A monster..."
"A hero."
"I see what you're doing. A moment ago, you said I was given a warrior's gift. Now you're attempting to appeal to my better sensibilities by suggesting I'm destined to be a hero."
"Perhaps I misspoke before. Most heroes are warriors. But not all warriors are heroes. It is destined you will be a warrior. The gift of the ríastrad has made you one already. But if you are going to be amerewarrior or a hero, is a matter of your choosing."
