Part 2 (2/2)

She moved back to the hearth as she spoke and held her hands out to the pile of unlit wood as if a fire was already there to warm them. In a moment, a red glow appeared among the kindling. In another, flames leapt-gold and white-to consume the wood.

”You see, it's really much easier for me than for poor Eyslk with her flints.”

The Eldress nodded, eyes casting back the glow of the flames. ”A good, practical bit of Weaving, that.” She s.h.i.+fted her eyes to Taminy then, head tilted questioningly, asked, ”Would you like me to leave you a bit, Lady? I can return in your time.”

”Not if you've some business for me, Eldress.”

Taminy retreated to the couch from which she now ”held court” as Skeet put it. She preferred to think of it as consultation and had even convinced Catahn that the couch, which had once sat on a raised platform, be on a level with the other furniture in the room.

Eldress Levene approached her (curtseying again) and seated herself in a facing chair. ”If it please my Lady . . . Taminy,” she corrected, when Taminy would have reminded her, ”the Aeldra have consulted this past eve and have raised some questions.”

Taminy gestured with her left hand, bidding her to continue. The Eldress's eyes followed the gesture, seizing on the blessed mark-the gytha-glowing from the palm like a tiny flame.

”We have certain rites, Lady Taminy, which have been held in the heart of these mountains since time known. We are born and named, cross from childhood into adulthood, marry, give birth and die. All these things we mark and celebrate. And in between, we plant some and harvest some and mark the pa.s.sing of the seasons. We revere the Gwyr, too, as you know, and celebrate Her rare appearances. We lay before you these things, these rites and ask . . .”

The Eldress paused, glancing aside at the silent Skeet. She was troubled, clearly. ”These are ancient rites-”

”And sacred,” said Taminy. ”They remind you that you are the Hillwild and that these things have shaped you, nurtured you, become part of your relations.h.i.+p with the Spirit.”

The Eldress's relief was evident. ”You'd not have us give them up?”

”No, Eldress. Why would I?”

”Some have tried to persuade us that these things are superst.i.tion. That we should leave them and wors.h.i.+p as do the people of the lowlands.”

”They wors.h.i.+p as they wors.h.i.+p; you wors.h.i.+p as you wors.h.i.+p. The Spirit isn't interested in the form of your wors.h.i.+p, but in its sincerity.”

”They say the Gwyr is a heathen spirit, unrelated to the Meri and Her G.o.d. They say our G.o.d is not their G.o.d.”

They. ”The Osraed, you mean?”

”Aye, and others.”

”The Gwyr is a window to the world of the Spirit. There is only one Spirit. There are many windows through which to see It.”

The Eldress considered that. ”Yet, each window offers a different view. How does one see the Spirit entire?”

”One finds a Door and enters it.”

The Eldress nodded. ”You are the Door.”

Even now, Taminy could feel a part of herself shrinking from that truth-but it was truth.

”Here, now, for you, I am the Door.”

Eldress Levene slid from her chair to her knees, bending her forehead to the floor. ”Blessed Lady! Last night I dreamed of a doorway filled with light. I see it again this moment.”

”Rise, please,” Taminy murmured, uncomfortable with the open adoration. ”Rise and look at me. You have another question.”

The woman raised her head, but remained huddled on the carpet, her wool pantaloons billowed about her like gray clouds. ”The Council of Elders also wishes to know if it should continue to guide the affairs of Airdnasheen.”

”What other body but the Aeldra would shepherd the community?” Taminy asked in return. ”Who else would be qualified? You know the people's needs. There's no reason why the Aeldra should not continue to elect the Ren and mind the affairs of his people. I didn't come here to govern the Hillwild, Eldress Levene, but to renew a Covenant.”

The Eldress nodded, looking thoughtful. ”And to ready the young Malcuim to govern. He's a good boy, that one, but rash, stubborn, fox-clever . . . for boon or bane.”

The absent Eyslk chose that moment to put in her appearance. It was Eldress Levene's pleasure to tease her gently for her cleverness in lighting the fire without a tinder box.

While the two bantered, Taminy's gaze roamed to the fire. Boon or bane, indeed. The Eldress had no way of knowing that in describing Airleas, she had also described his father. Colfre Malcuim's cleverness had connived to disaster and his rashness had made him a willing puppet for Daimhin Feich. Taminy could only pray Airleas had something his father had not-strength of will.

The narrow outer corridor was empty and Airleas Malcuim congratulated himself on that good fortune. His arms wrapped around the long, swaddled package, he scurried the length of the hallway, down the narrow stone steps at its nether end, and out into the small, dark courtyard. It was a little-used yard; he knew that after several days of careful watching. Its only other access was from the rear of the main kitchen and it occasionally hosted the kitchen crews after-dinner chats, but little more than that.

Alone, Airleas laid his treasure out on a rough wooden bench and unwrapped it, a smile hovering at his lips.

”Airleas! A sword! Oh, wherever'd you get tha'?”

He jumped and swore, twisting his head toward the kitchen entrance. ”Gwynet Alheart, you little weasel! How dare you sneak about like that? And keep your voice down.”

Gwynet's eyes were two pools of reproach. ”I'm sure I'm not a weasel, Cyneric Airleas. Nor was I the one sneaking. And my voice is down . . . Where'd you get the sword?”

Airleas sighed. ”I found it. In a leather satchel at the bottom of a grain bin in the stable.”

Gwynet's nose wrinkled in curiosity as she came down the short flight of kitchen steps to hover at the bench. ”What were you doing in a grain bin?”

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