"Next time you need me, or any of the waljan, do think of it, please. It could mean all the difference in the world."

They left together, hurrying out into the afternoon chill, while Airleas went in search of his Hillwild swordmaster.

Taminy stepped across the threshold into Deardru-an-Caerluel's small bedchamber and knew that Roe Kettletoft was right; the place quivered with the tension of a tightly directed aidan. A strong will worked here.

Her gaze traveled from the two sad-eyed little boys huddled by the door, to the handsome, stocky man who had leapt up from the bedside to face her. They came to rest at last on the woman shivering on the bed. From the man and the boys she sensed only fear and distress mixed, now, with a modic.u.m of hope. From the woman . . .

Puzzled, she turned to the husband. "May I be left alone with her, sir?"

He raised dark eyebrows. "Whatever is best, Mistress. Thank you for coming here. For helping us."

"I'm more than happy to help, sir. And Eyslk, might I have you boil these herbs for a tea?"

She laid a fragrant pouch in the girl's outstretched hands, then saw the others from the room. Only then did she turn her eyes and senses back to the woman in the bed.

What Roe Kettletoft had called magic was strong here. Oddly, Taminy found it had a different quality and texture than the workings of the Divine Art practiced by the Osraed. Like a basket held together with pitch and twine, or a patchwork garment, it was rough to the touch and straining at its joints.

Taminy sat on the edge of the bed and looked into Deardru-an-Caerluel's half-closed eyes. "Now, mam, will you tell me why you've inyxed yourself into a sickbed?"

The aidan-thick atmosphere quivered momentarily, further straining its crude seams. On the heavy quilt covering her chest, Deardru's knotted fists relaxed, loosing their hold on the inyx. She breathed deeply, closing her eyes. When she opened them again, gone was the glaze of concentration. In its place was a bright, voracious curiosity and a small, grudging respect.

"Well, Mistress Taminy, you do have a mighty touch of the aidan. Even Roe Kettletoft couldn't tell the inyx I was suffering was my own."

She opened her left hand, causing the small amulet she held there to fall and bob at the end of its leather thong. The jet catamount caught light from the chamber's single deep window and glittered. A family icon, Taminy realized, and knew it to be the Hageswode totem.

"But why, mam?" she asked. "Why put yourself in a sickbed?"

"I only wanted to meet you, Taminy-Osmaer."

"You could have come to Hrofceaster with Eyslk."

"I avoid Hrofceaster. I wanted you to come here."

Into your territory. Taminy smiled. "You might have simply invited me."

The woman's eyes glinted. "And you'd've come, would you?"

"Yes."

"To break bread with the likes of us? You, who count Cynes and Cwens and Osraed in your circle? Who break bread each day with The Hageswode, himself? You'd sit at table with your own serving maid?"

Taminy shook her head. "Eyslk is not my serving maid, mam. She's my student and my friend. She has a fine Gift."

Deardru's chin lifted. "She's a Hageswode."

Taminy tilted her head toward the jet catamount now lying atop the quilt. "I recognize the totem. Is that your family?"

"My first husband's. He was killed when we were quite young. Eyslk never knew him."

There was bitterness in that, and anger. Taminy felt immediate sympathy. "How did he die?"

"A border skirmish with the Deasach Kartas. He was pledged to the clan forces under Ren Morgant. When I became pregnant, he pleaded release to his family obligations and was granted the request. But before he could come home to me he was killed. His family was less family than I thought them. After Eyslk was born it was as if neither of us existed. She was twelve years old before Hrofceaster paid her any notice, and then it was Desary who spoke for her. You've noticed they look a great deal alike. They should. They're cousins."

Frowning, Taminy sifted through the other woman's splintered thoughts and feelings. "You brought me here to tell me this? Why?"

"So you understand what sort of man Catahn Hageswode is. A man who would pledge his only brother, newly married, to a dangerous posting far from home, while he basked in the glory of his station and the adoration of his own wife and child. A man who then treated his kin as if they were clanless strangers. If Desary hadn't possessed her mother's good heart, Eyslk would have never met you or placed her Gift in your hands."

Stunned, Taminy could only think to ask, "And why would Catahn do such a thing to his own brother-to his brother's family?"

Deardru's smile was grim. "Pride. What else would make a man like Catahn Hillwild behave so?"

Taminy turned the words in her mind as if they contained poison; she could feel the blood draining from her face. She had never known Catahn to be a pride-driven man. Had he been that different as a youth?

Deardru's eyes acknowledged that they hadn't missed her discomfiture. "I neglect to mention that Raenulf was Catahn's older brother. It was he who should have been Village Elder, Catahn who should have been bound by his pledges. For his own reasons, Raenulf rejected the status Catahn craved. Old biddies like Gram Long and Aeldress Levene will tell you that it was strength of character that brought Catahn Hageswode early power. It was not. It was Raenulf's yielding nature. Because of that, Catahn stood to be Ren and Raenulf willingly served him. Both knew the truth, and it ate at Catahn, so he put Raenulf away from him into Morgant's hands. And when Raenulf was killed, guilt drove Catahn to ignore his second family. I married Garradh, because Catahn could not be bothered to care for us."

Taminy shook herself. I shouldn't listen to this. Only Catahn's words should tell me tales of his life.

"Why should I hear this?" she asked.

"He takes you into his home. He calls you 'Mistress' and 'Lady.' Should you not be aware of the flaws of those who serve you?"

"Catahn is no more my servant Eyslk is, mam."

"Oh no, of course. He's your friend. Your bosom companion. But he would be more, if you bid him. So, I warn you what sort of man you've Woven to your side."

"You mistake me, mam. I Weave no inyx to ensure Catahn's loyalty. He is where he desires to be."

The other woman laughed aloud at that. "I think not. But beware, or he will be."

Eyslk all but fell through the door then, spilling tea and cakes onto the floor in her haste. "Mama! Mama! You're-you're-! I heard you laugh! Oh, Taminy, you've healed her! Oh, let me tell Step-da!" Then she was gone again, leaving the upset tea things on the floor.

Taminy rose. "You don't need my help, mam, so I'd best leave. If you ever do need me, call, and I'll come."

"What will you tell my family?"

"That you've healed. The rest is up to you."

She turned to leave just as Garradh-an-Caerleul and his sons rushed in. They beamed at her, then gave their full attention to Deardru. Taminy slipped quietly into the hallway and was surprised to find Eyslk waiting for her in the parlor. The girl's face was an agony of indecision and anxiety matched and amplified by her unabashed chaos of spirit.

"Mistress Taminy," she whispered. "I-I heard-oh, more than I ought!" Her eyes went to tears. "Oh, please, I can't imagine why Mama'd do such a thing as this, or say such things about Uncle. I've always known they didn't get on, but-oh, Taminy, I'm so sorry!"

She put a hand on the girl's shoulder, blocking her own distress from flowing between them. "You've nothing to be sorry for, Eyslk. You couldn't have known what your mother meant to do."

"Couldn't I? She's my mother. And I'm supposed to have the aidan. How could I not know?"

"Having the aidan and learning to use it are two different things, Eyslk. One of the most important things you must learn is that strong emotions like fear and worry and anger can make the aidan capricious and harder to discipline."

"So we must avoid strong emotion?"

Taminy smiled, taking a tighter hold on her own inner processes. "No, we must learn to control both the emotion and the aidan so that they become a help to each other and not a hindrance. Now, then, will I see you tomorrow up at Hrofceaster?"

Eyslk managed a weak smile and nodded. "If you'll have me, Mistress."

Taminy shook her gently. "Of course I'll have you, Eyslk. Tomorrow. I'll teach you how to start the fire without your precious flints."

The smile was genuine this time. Taminy carried it with her on the walk back up to Hrofceaster, as if with that warm amulet she might ward off the unsettling effects of Deardru-an-Caerluel's accusations.

Chapter 7.

You truly cannot guide whom you desire; but the Spirit guides whom It will and It, alone, knows who will yield to guidance.

-from the Testament of Osraed Bevol The place was dark, and fog clung to him like a shroud of damp gauze, choking every pore. He was walking, but realized he had no idea where he was going or why. He wallowed for a moment in weightless, placeless confusion. Was he moving toward a goal or fleeing an enemy? Was he awake or dreaming?

In the instant the question was asked, it was answered, and now, consciously dreaming, Caime Cadder struggled for awareness of his surroundings. He was not often visited by dreams; when they came, he took them as welcome affirmations of his worthiness to serve the Osraed-or as chastis.e.m.e.nt from his divine Mistress. He didn't know which this would be, and so waited-antic.i.p.ating, dreading-for the aislinn world to reveal itself.

A point of light p.r.i.c.ked the darkness and, before his straining eyes, the fog lightened, struggling from black to gray. He glanced quickly around; on all other sides, the clinging veil of darkness pressed against him. He edged forward, the light his goal. Ages or moments later he attained its precincts, entering a circle of gleaming mist that seemed to lock behind him, closing in the light and its source. He saw that source now, at the center of the circle-the Osmaer Crystal on its burnished pedestal.

He was not surprised, but awed. He fell to his knees, worshipful. A bounty, this was. Only in his dream was he allowed to face the Osmaer without Ladhar or some other Osraed as intermediary and guardian. He resented that and despised the resentment. It only served to remind him that it was through his own poverty of spirit that he was not, himself, Osraed.

Now the resentment was quelled. Neither Ladhar nor his lieutenants were in sight. Caime Cadder was alone with Ochan's fabulous and holy Relic. Without their censuring presence, he dared approach it. He could feel-yes, feel, with every fiber-its warm, life-giving emanations.

But no, it did not emanate, it channeled, reflected, refracted. It was the Meri who fed Her healing rays through the earthy substance, who brought light to its cold facets. Staring into those facets, longing, adoring, Caime Cadder became only gradually aware of another presence in the chamber of mist.

He glanced up past the Crystal, his eyes drawn to an amorphous cloud of luminance behind it. Cadder licked dreamer's lips, aislinn eyes bright. For a moment he let himself hope that this night he would be granted his heart's desire-that what he had denied himself on his Pilgrimage, the Meri would grant him in this corridor to the Eibhilin world.

A glance, he prayed. A glance, only.

The paeri form resolved itself gracefully, taking on a female shape.

Cadder shivered, uncertain. Perhaps he should avert his eyes; perhaps he should genuflect. He only knew that this time he would not turn and run. He would not. But as the image struggled to clarity, it seemed to the bemused cleirach that it was too human. He could now make out features. He could now- His entire being froze, hopes unraveling into chaos. In less than a heartbeat, he fell from bliss to terror and stood face to face with his nemesis. The aislinn Taminy-a-Cuinn smiled at him-he quivered with dread and disgust. She held out her gleaming arms to him-he flinched away, but he would not run. He must not. This scene played on an aislinn stage and his Mistress' eyes watched his spirit's every move.

Evil. Oh, evil!

Yet between him and that, the Stone. Yes, the Stone would protect him. He smiled into the Golden Wicke's face and stepped closer, bringing the Osmaer within arm's reach.

As if to mock his cert.i.tude, the Wicke reached out her white hands and laid them upon the Crystal. In response, the facets exploded with light.

If he had been corporeal, Cadder would have shrieked aloud. But he was mute and the shrill sound of his cries reverberated only in his mind. Fool, he was, to believe the Stone could Weave its own protection. He'd seen the Wicke lay hands on it in the Shrine, to his personal pain and humiliation. Now, he recognized this nightmare as the Eibhilin shadow of that waking one. He had failed then. He could only view this dream as a second chance to succeed.

He could see now what he had been meant to see before-that this Wicke was indeed an Evil Being of such great power that she could manipulate even the Stone of Ochan. It was no wonder that Daimhin Feich trembled in fear of her. How was Ladhar so dense that he did not?

Why am I receiving this vision?

It came to Caime Cadder forcefully as he stared into the Wicke's green eyes that he must be in a position to protect the Stone. Protect it he must. His aislinn self reached out to pry the Evil's hands from the Great Crystal. Her flesh was warm, soft. The surprise of that hit him with the same force as the blinding wash of radiance that blew him back into the realm of Form and Shadow.

Waking, quaking, Caime Cadder lay and considered his dream. He had been shown two things: Feich was right about the immensity of Evil's power and Ladhar was a fool.

It seemed as if they had been on the road for weeks when at last the ramparts of Halig-liath came into view through the forest canopy. One moment they were riding in the chill, fragrant gloom of the deep pines, the next the boughs thinned to let through a cascade of sunlight and a view of Halig-liath gleaming atop its palisade.

Aine was inordinately thrilled to see it. Somehow she had expected it to have been washed away in the great tide of war she had once dreamed, or reduced to a ruin by Daimhin Feich and his allies. But no, Taminy had been right; Feich had not yet budged from Creiddylad and Halig-liath still stood guard over Nairne's beautiful river bend.

"Happy to be home?"

Aine jerked her head around, startled. Where Iseabal had been not a moment ago rode Saefren Claeg. She swept him with her eyes and her aidan, but found his thoughts as hard to read as his colorless eyes.

She shrugged, too tired just now to be p.r.i.c.kly. "I'll only be here as long as your uncle is willing to stay. Besides, it doesn't much feel like home anymore."

Saefren returned the shrug, his eyes now on the sun-washed fortress. "You don't have to go on to Creiddylad, surely. At least not right away. Why not visit awhile, then take the river packet down?"

Aine glared at him. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" she retorted, then grasped tight hold of her temper and shook it. "I'm sorry, but you'll just have to suffer my bad company all the way to Creiddylad."

"It's been months since you've seen your family, girl. Don't you want to stay?"

"Taminy wants me to go to Creiddylad-with you. Now."

"So you'll obey. Without question or thought. Have you no sense of family, Aine-mac-Lorimer?"

Fire blazed in her head, making her face hot and p.r.i.c.kly. "I have every sense of family, Saefren Claeg. Only my family's gotten much bigger suddenly. My family in Nairne is safe and happy. My family in Creiddylad needs me more."

Saefren shook his head. "You lot boggle me."

"Us lot?"

"Taminists. Do you know, my uncle firmly expects to find The Gilleas awaiting us in Nairne with his chief Elders?"

"I know. Taminy said he'd be here." She glanced back up through the trees at Halig-liath, framed now by the golds and reds of autumn. "He's up there."

She was both surprised and pleased by that freshly caught knowledge, annoyed when Saefren's chuckle of derision snuffed her pleasure.

"Like I said, you lot boggle me. Pretend all you like, Lady Firepot. But you'll soon find that all the make-believe in the world won't make it so. Your Lady's talismans are empty and so's Halig-liath, I'll wager."

Aine looked at him sharply. "What do you mean?"

He leaned toward her, making her wish she dared reach out and yank him out of his saddle. "I've glimpsed the 'messages' Taminy-Osmaer's dispatched for the n.o.ble Houses. There's nothing in them."

Face flushing hot and cold, Aine faced front. What could he mean-nothing in them? In a moment, indignity had settled on her and she prayed time would speed so Saefren-the-Smug could sooner learn how wrong he was.