Part 28 (2/2)

Although it might only be a woman's fancy, she'd always been convinced that Callie had been conceived the day of that conversation with Darak. Just as she firmly believed that Faelia had been conceived after they had quarreled and made up.

A sharp pinch on her knee made her squeak in surprise. As she turned to glare at Faelia, Muina said, ”We'll search for Keirith first. Griane, you will summon him as you share the closest blood tie.”

Lisula placed one of the bowls of water before Muina who pa.s.sed her hands over it three times. ”Lacha, G.o.ddess of lakes and rivers. Halam, earth G.o.ddess, bone mother. Gheala, moon sister. Lend us your power. Lend us your strength. Lend us your light. Help us find Keirith, child of our tribe, child of Griane's womb.”

Lisula lifted Griane's clump of moss with two rowan twigs and dropped it into the water. Then she pa.s.sed one twig to Muina who chanted, ”From one womb, blood and babe. From one flesh, mother and child.” Muina swirled the clump in a slow circle. Then Lisula retrieved the dripping moss and laid it atop the oak leaves Bethia held.

”Stir the water fourteen times with Keirith's hair,” Muina said. ”Don't let your fingers touch the surface of the water.”

The pinkish water barely moved, but Lisula gave her an encouraging nod so she must be doing it right.

”Blood of the mother,” Muina muttered. ”Hair of the child. Blood and body unite to show us Keirith.”

Griane's mouth hurt. It took her a moment to realize she was gnawing her upper lip.

Please, Maker, don't let me drop the hair.

When she finished, she sighed with relief and heard Faelia do the same. Still staring into the bowl, Muina said, ”Drop his hair into the water.”

Reluctantly, Griane complied. Softer than rabbit fur, she had carefully preserved the tiny tuft since Keirith's birth. As the strands spread across the surface of the water, Muina said, ”Call his name, Griane. Three times.”

She barely managed a whisper, but at Muina's sharp look, she found the strength to mimic the Grain-Grandmother's voice of summoning. Oddly, just pretending to have the power made her feel as if she did.

They were all leaning forward now, every pair of eyes fixed on the bowl. And so they remained. Griane's knees began to ache from kneeling on the rushes. She forced herself to concentrate on the bowl, willing something-anything-to happen. But only when Faelia's fingers dug into her arm did she see.

Although no earthly power stirred them, the hairs were moving. They circled sunwise around the bowl, slowly at first, then faster as if caught in a whirlpool. An involuntary s.h.i.+ver shook her as the single whirlpool split into two. A third appeared beneath it. The twin whirlpools shuddered. Two blue eyes blinked open. A mouth froze in the act of yawning. The lips moved, forming a single word.

”Mam?”

”Keirith? Keirith, can you hear me?”

Her trembling hands grasped the bowl, and the vision vanished.

”Oh, G.o.ds. I've lost him.”

”Nay,” Lisula said. ”It wasn't you.”

Muina slumped against Bethia's shoulder, breathing hard, but one hand came up to wave Lisula's hands away. ”I'm fine, child. Just tired. I'll need to rest a bit before we try to summon Darak.”

As Bethia lifted a waterskin to Muina's lips, Faelia whispered, ”I saw him, Mam. It was Keirith. I know it was.”

Griane nodded and carefully released the bowl.

”Muina will have seen more,” Lisula whispered. ”We can ask her when she's stronger.”

”I'm strong enough now.” Muina took another sip of water and thrust the skin at Bethia. ”He was sleeping. I felt stone all around him. But his sleeping place was familiar to him and comfortable. There were others near him-not Darak,” she added quickly. ”Strangers. I sensed an injury. Nothing life-threatening, but . . .”

”A broken limb? A head wound?”

”Nay. His back, perhaps. It must have happened a while ago. If it were more recent, the color would have been darker.”

”His eyes?”

”Nay, child. I see colors in the water. They tell me if a person is hurt. A sound body will look blue or green. Wounds will flare bright red. Keirith . . .” Her frown deepened. ”His body is sound enough, but there is something. Perhaps a wound to his spirit. Those I cannot see.”

”At least he's not in any immediate danger,” Lisula said.

Muina's face remained troubled. ”Or he didn't sense the danger. He sleeps alone. I would have expected him to be with the captives taken from the Holly Tribe. Unless . . .”

Unless they had met the same fate as Owan.

”Keirith might have escaped,” Lisula suggested. ”Or be in hiding. Or have found a protector.”

Or the raiders might have discovered his power and removed him from the other captives.

”He's alive,” Bethia said in her calm voice. ”He is unharmed. The Tree-Father will continue to seek a vision, and when it comes, he will be able to tell us more.”

For once, Bethia's serenity made Griane want to shake her.

”The night is waning,” Muina said. ”And we still must seek Darak.”

”Are you strong enough, Grain-Grandmother?”

Muina gave Bethia a withering glance. ”I'll manage. Help me up. Faelia, you must summon your father.”

”Not Mam?”

”She shares no blood link to him. You do.”

As the chanting began, Griane tried to still her turbulent thoughts.

Keirith's safe. For now. That's something. Gortin will keep trying. The vision will come. It must.

She held up her hand so Faelia could untie the precious hair from her forefinger. ”How many times?” Faelia whispered.

”What?”

”Fa's age!”

”Oh. Thirty-eight.”

Faelia's lips moved as she counted each circle. The hair trailed limply in the motionless water and Griane found herself chewing her lip again. Faelia cleared her throat. Her ”Fa!” was loud enough to make them all start.

”His name,” Muina said. ”You must say his name.”

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