Cadder could take no more. The horse was becoming increasingly maddened, as was he. What this being said simply could not be true. He would not believe that he'd sold himself over to the wrong side of this. He could not believe it. So, with one great effort, Caime Cadder shouted his prancing mount forward, intending to ride right through Ladhar's shade. But the horse whirled and bolted off the trail, flailing through drifting snow into a close-knit group of trees. Off balance, Cadder could do nothing more than cling to the saddle in desperation as the twining branches rushed to meet him.

He only barely saw the contorted limb that caught him about the throat. There was no time to dodge or cry out. Hands gripping the pommel, feet sunk in the stirrups, spirit buried in its own sick pride, Caime Cadder contributed as much to his death as did the ill-placed branch.

Chapter 25.

Rise up! Rise up with such spirit that it will fill the human world with life. Light the lamp of love where you gather and shed joy in every heart. Love the stranger as you love your own faithful friends. If someone strikes you, seek his friendship; if he wounds you, be a balm to his wounds; if he taunts you, love him; if he blames you, praise him; if he poisons you, offer him honey; if he would take your life, save his. Even if he is the essence of suffering, be his healing. Even if he is a thorn, be his rose.

This is the way to light the world, to turn a prison into a palace, to turn earth into heaven. These are the heart of the Meri's Law, the teachings for this new time.

- Taminy-Osmaer

Book of the New Covenant

She could see herself through their eyes and knew she was a strange sight-sitting in Catahn's high-backed chair before the largest hearth in the Great Hall like a Cwen in boy's clothes, with Skeet crouched at her feet like a loyal pup. The Stone of Ochan sat, glowing, in her lap; she glowed with it-as much from within as from its reflection or the fire's light.

Each penitent arrived before her to bow, beg forgiveness and promise fealty with greater or lesser displays of trepidation.

The Dearg was first, with his several House Elders. He groveled from real fear, laying his opposition to her at Coinich Mor's door, because he would never-no, never-have thought to make himself her enemy if he had not been befuddled by his brother's wicked wife and her Feich lover. Now the scales had been ripped from his eyes and he saw the truth. Had she a midge of mercy in her heart for an old chieftain?

Taminy smiled and forgave him and his. It was a mightily relieved Eadrig Dearg who walked out of Hrofceaster to tell his men they would begin rebuilding the burned-out Hillwild village that very day-that very hour.

Lilias Saba was next, not nearly so terrified as The Dearg, but clearly awed. She had Iseabal brought out of her camp and returned her to Taminy's arms.

"You forego your revenge?" Taminy asked.

The Raven answered with a wry smile. "Well, I fancy myself a creature of honor, but my father didn't raise a fool. I imagine my little army is no match for the forces you command, Lady. And I've no desire to join my poor brother in death."

"You wouldn't die by my hand."

Lilias's black brows arched upward. "No?"

"No."

"Did my brother . . . die by your hand or by your thought? Or by hers?" She nodded toward Iseabal, now warming near the huge central hearth in Aine's protective embrace.

"No. Be a.s.sured, Lilias Saba, your brother's true murderer is dead. It was Rodri Madaidh's sword that ended his life, surely, and Iseabal was the reason for him falling under that sword. But the man who put Iseabal into his hands-that man is dead."

"Daimhin Feich." Lilias's brow furrowed as she considered that. "He was a fool. He might have had the Throne of Caraid-land, had he been willing to settle for that."

Had he been willing to settle. Watching Ruadh Feich approach her, sober and defensive, Taminy turned the thought in her head. It was fruitless to wish for what might have been-a virtuous Cyne Colfre; pure-hearted Osraed; a Daimhin Feich who was, if unscrupulous, at least not obsessive. How many lives had been blighted because of Colfre's avarice, Ladhar's blindness and Feich's madness?

"The Banarigh was right," Ruadh told her when it was his turn. "My cousin was a fool. He didn't believe you could destroy him-or rather, that you would destroy him."

"Ruadh Feich," Taminy told him, equally solemn, "I did not destroy your cousin."

"The Crystal, then?"

"No, not even Ochan's Crystal is responsible for his destruction. The Crystal is . . . a pa.s.sive tool. Certainly, it's attuned to Light as opposed to darkness. Perhaps, in that way, you could say that the Crystal destroyed Daimhin Feich."

Ruadh shook his head, uncomprehending. "If not you, if not the Crystal, then what?"

"He demanded that it destroy the Enemy. Not his enemy-at that moment, Coinich Mor-but the Enemy. The Crystal's Enemy, the Enemy of Light."

Ruadh sucked in a sharp breath. "He destroyed himself, that's what you're telling me. That for want of the right p.r.o.noun, he destroyed himself and his Dearg Wicke." The corner of his mouth twitched. "You'll think me a barbarian, Lady, but somehow, in my cousin's case, that seems . . . fitting. He was more than a fool. He was mad.

"Every morning, I would wake and wonder what new delusion he would seize on today. Would he be an aingeal of darkness, or darkness itself? Would he sit on the Throne of Caraid-land, or of the entire world? Would he marry one powerful woman, or three? I began to consider whether The Feich would think me a traitor or a hero to our House if I abandoned him." He managed a wry smile. "You have saved me, Mistress, from a most difficult decision."

He made no protestations of lifelong loyalty after that, but merely pledged himself to help rebuild Airdnasheen and then to put his men at her disposal.

"There will be chaos in Creiddylad," he added. "Perhaps the best thing I can do is to escort Cyneric Airleas back to Mertuile where he can be set before the Stone. A country shouldn't be so long without its Cyne."

"No, it shouldn't," Taminy agreed. "But it won't be Mertuile that sees the coronation of this Cyne. It would please me if you would escort Airleas to Halig-liath. There he will receive the Circlet."

She heard the murmur that went up among those who heard her. In a word, she had changed a Rite of Succession that had been practiced for six centuries.

Ruadh Feich did not react to that, but only to the course the destination required they take. "You don't mean to leave here until spring, then? Surely, you must move sooner than that. Creiddylad-"

"Creiddylad is in the hands of Iobert Claeg and the Allied Houses. But yes, we shall move sooner than that. Within the week, I think."

"Lady, the weather! Surely, you can't mean to take mounted men along the Northern trail."

Taminy smiled, feeling suddenly giddy with the absence of Daimhin Feich's dark threat and Coinich Mor's secret presence.

"Weather, Ruadh Feich? What is weather?"

She rose and moved to the bank of windows that looked out into Hrofceaster's bustling forecourt. The mountain fog leaned close to the window, as if eavesdropping. Taminy dismissed it with a wave of her hand. It receded, lifting like a curtain, parting as if pulled by an invisible hand. The stones of Hrofceaster turned from lead to gold, touches of snow-silver ornamenting the battlements.

"You order the weather," murmured Ruadh, and Taminy could feel in him, for the first time, unadulterated fear. She felt something else, too. She felt Skeet's eyes on her and blushed under their wry regard.

"Don't fear me, Ruadh Feich," she told him. "The weather has no mind of its own, unlike you. I may order a breeze now and again, but I can't order a man's destiny."

As Taminy had said, they prepared to leave for Nairne within the week. The Banarigh Lilias had departed already to her own home, the Dearg and Ruadh Feich both agreed to leave behind kinsmen who would continue to help rebuild tattered Airdnasheen.

With a mixed contingent of Claeg, Dearg and Feich men under Catahn's command, they readied themselves for a long, careful descent to the river vale at the foot of Baenn-an-loc.

Taminy was alone in her parlor when the door slipped quietly open, admitting Deardru-an-Caerluel. Head high, the woman studied her in silence, arms folded across her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, eyes dark with smug malice.

"So. You I lose to you, after all."

"Lose to me?"

"Ah, I forget. You can't read my thoughts as you do other's. I speak of Catahn. He tells me you are to wed at Halig-liath."

Taminy nodded.

"Smug cat. Save your smiles for your lover and remind yourself, often, that he was my lover first."

"He was never that, Deardru."

"You think not? What can you know? That much-vaunted Gift of yours can't even penetrate the simple Weaves of a villager. You think Daimhin Feich acted alone? That he was some powerful Wicke you might be proud to have defeated? He was-"

"A man with a strong, but unruly Gift that he never mastered. He played other people in a way he could never manipulate his own aidan. Coinich Mor stood behind him, hidden in his shadow. The Weaves were hers, not his-I know that."

Deardru's eyes revealed her disappointment. "So, you guessed a small part of the puzzle. Well, there's more you don't know."

Taminy sighed and pulled something from the pocket of her breeches, holding it out to the other woman on the palm of her hand.

Deardru frowned. "What-?"

"The amulet you gave Airleas. You used it to forge a Weaving bond with him, to create a link you might ride your aidan upon straight to his spirit. Yes, I knew it was you who betrayed him into Feich's hands. He knew it too . . . before he surrendered his sword."

Deardru fought to keep her face from betraying her sudden agitation. "Then why did he not flee? Why did he not Weave protection for himself?"

"He thought he might save me disgrace if he played himself into Feich's control. You weren't the only one working at him. Like me, he armed himself against Daimhin Feich, not seeing that Coinich Mor wielded him like a shield."

"If you knew-if you really knew-why did you do nothing to me? Why did you say nothing to Catahn?"

"I did say something to Catahn. I asked him to show you mercy. He wanted to throw you out into Feich's camp, since you had allied yourself with him."

Deardru's face was washed of all color. "Why did you not let him do that?"

"Because of what Feich would have done with you. He fed on people, Deardru. He devoured them, licking up every drop of their energies while, in turn, Coinich Mor fed on him, leaving him just enough power to sustain himself. Together, they would have drained you, the way they drained Iseabal. The way they drained others."

"I don't understand you. I betrayed Airleas Malcuim into his enemy's hands, but it was you I sought to wound. I wanted you out of Catahn Hageswode's life. Airleas was only a playing piece I might move to that end."

"Yes, I know that. But I'd condemn no one to Daimhin Feich's hands. No one. Not even someone who hates me as much as you do. Nor does Airleas desire revenge. I think he pities you. I know I do."

"I don't care for your pity. I only want you gone."

"You'll get that wish. I will be gone from Hrofceaster, but so will Catahn and Eyslk. Your husband and sons may also be gone, in their own fashion."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean your husband knows what you did. He was here not five minutes ago, pleading mercy for you. He's a loyal man, Deardru. Which is, perhaps, more than you deserve."

"So, you told him, did you?"

"I told him nothing. Your youngest son saw you give the Hageswode amulet to Airleas and heard you speak to him. He told your husband, thinking it was a rather grand thing you did to give the Cyneric such a powerful totem. When Airleas was in Feich's hands, Garradh-an-Caerluel heard the tale again from Broran and saw it in another light altogether. You think your husband slow. He isn't. He sees much; he simply prefers not to speak of it."

"So, I shall lose everything I hold dear. Is that what you tell me?"

"Do you hold them dear, your husband and sons? I had wondered."

Deardru-an-Caerluel drew herself up to her full height. "If you think you can wound me, you're to be disappointed. You've no power to hurt me, Taminy-a-Cuinn."

"No, but you've all power to hurt yourself."

Flushed and furious, the Hillwild woman left the room in a swirl of skirts, charging the atmosphere with her frustration and anger. Taminy watched her go with sorrow, knowing that in the months and years ahead, Deardru-an-Caerluel would realize her losses and inevitably find someone else to blame for them-"Taminy did this to me," she would say, or "this is because Catahn Hageswode would not love me", or even "it was my doltish husband who kept me from what I could have had." She might even one day blame the long dead Raenulf for her woes.

"Don't let it pain you so, Mistress, please."

Taminy glanced up to see Airleas standing in the doorway.

Was he taller, suddenly? Was his voice more the voice of a young man and less that of a child?

He came into the room, his face eloquent with concern. Light from the windows gave it a frame of radiance and shadow, accenting planes and hollows that she had not noticed a day or a week ago. He moved into full light and became a child again, face boyishly round, wide eyes on her.

"You shouldn't grieve for her. She's woven her own pattern."

She laid a hand to his shoulder. "It's her husband and her sons I think of, mostly. They did nothing to be so disregarded, but Deardru is a woman caught up in her own self-in her own past."

Airleas nodded. "Catahn says we're ready to go. He thinks we can make the top of the Cauldron by nightfall." He glanced at the floor then, expression suddenly shy.

"In a moment. First, you've something you wish to ask me."

He glanced back up at her, determined, tentative, pleading. "You once said when I was ready, I'd have a rune crystal of my own to Weave with. I've done my Crask-an-duine"-did he gain an inch or two in saying that?-"and I'm to be set before the Stone when we reach Halig-liath. Am I . . . ?" He frowned and set his shoulders. "When shall I be ready, Mistress? What must I do to be ready? Tell me, and I'll do it, learn it, be it."

She smiled and put her arms around him, felt him return the embrace. "You've done it, Airleas. You've learned it. You've become it." She took him by the shoulders and held him away that she might study his face. "You could have destroyed Daimhin Feich, but you didn't. You remained true to the Art, true to the nature of the Spirit. You gave him into the Spirit's hands."

Airleas's face flushed. "It wasn't my right to destroy him. You could have destroyed him, too. I wondered why you didn't. I was afraid, sometimes, that he was more powerful somehow. More powerful than you-than all of us. Then I realized that you had the power to destroy him-it was something else that prevented you. Then I knew that that something was what you just said-the nature of the Spirit. It wasn't your nature to destroy him, wicked as he was. If it wasn't your nature, then it couldn't be mine either, not if I was to be the Cyne you wanted me to be."

She opened her mouth to comment and he flushed again and added, "That I wanted to be. Daimhin Feich's destruction," he said as if the thought was just now being born, "was written in his nature. It was inevitable . . . wasn't it?"

She nodded and told him, "When we reach Halig-liath, on the day of your coronation, you will receive your Weaving stone."

His smile was a little boy's, bright and jubilant. He gave her the biggest hug he had and ran to tell his mother, the Cwen.