The House Of Gaian (48 page)

but under the rule of the House of Gaian.

“Sons and Daughters who are willing to leave their homes in the Mother’s Hills will take up stewardship of those lands. The boundaries of the Old Places will be walked again. The land will be reclaimed as a home for the wild things and the Small Folk— and the Fae. Other Sons and Daughters who have the strength and skill will do what they can to reopen the shining roads and free the Fae who were trapped there. This is what we have decided.”

“And if we don’t agree?” one of the barons asked.

The Crone raised one hand, palm up. “Earth. Air. Water. Fire. These are what we hold in our hands.

Can you live without them?”

Aiden stopped writing, suddenly aware that his pen scratching on the paper was the only sound in the room.

“It is justice,” Liam finally said, bowing his head.

The Crone nodded. “As we will, so mote it be.” As she walked out of the room, she paused and looked at Breanna. “We will talk, Granddaughter.”

“As you will,” Breanna replied.

Ashk rose from the table. “Breanna? Are you nervous about talking to her?”

Breanna smiled weakly. “A little.”

“She isn’t really your grandmother.”

“She and Nuala were cousins. So she is the elder most closely related to me now.”

Liam stood up. “It would seem this meeting is concluded.” He turned toward Breanna. “We can talk to her in the morning room.”

“She wants to talk to me, Liam, not us.”

“Well, she gets to talk to us.” Pushing past Ashk and Selena, he strode to the doorway and stood beside it.

Breanna muttered, “Featherhead,” and walked out of the room with Liam right behind her.

“Selena?” Donovan asked. “If I may ask a question? What makes the Crones entitled to make such decisions about the world?”

Selena hesitated, then raised one hand, palm up. “The Crones who rule the Mother’s Hills are the ones whose power comes from all four branches in equal measure.”

“Could she do what she implied? Could any of those women take away the world?”

Selena lowered her hand. “That is not a question you should ask of the House of Gaian. But there is a poem that gives the answer.”

“I know it.”

After Selena walked out of the room, the rest of the people trickled out as well until only Donovan, Aiden, and Lyrra were in the room.

Lyrra glanced at Aiden and gathered up her papers, quills, and ink pot. “I’d better make a fairer copy while I remember what all these scribbles mean.”

When he and Donovan were alone, Aiden asked, “What is the answer?”

‘“If roused, their wrath can shake the world
/
And men will not see the light of day again,’” Donovan replied.

“Mother’s mercy.”

“That’s what we all stake our lives on, Bard. The Mother’s mercy. And the mercy of Her Sons and Daughters.” Donovan struggled to stand up.

“Do you want help getting back to your room?”

Donovan gave Aiden a wan smile. “I wouldn’t refuse it. Right now, I wouldn’t turn down a bowl of chicken soup.”

The Crone gave Liam a cool stare. He stared back, not sure why he was so primed to fight, except that Breanna had already been through enough.

“I asked to talk to Breanna,” the Crone said.

“Then talk. But I’m staying.”

“Oh, sit down, Liam,” Breanna said.

He sat on the sofa, close enough to her that their shoulders brushed.

“Now, Granddaughter, since you have no family here—”

“She has family here,” Liam snapped. “She doesn’t have to live alone in the Old Place. She can live here with us.”

“I’m not living alone in the Old Place,” Breanna snapped back. “I’m living with Falco and a puppy.”

Liam frowned. “A puppy? When did you get a puppy?”

“Yesterday. Falco brought him for me.” Breanna squirmed. “Now that I’ve figured out what he meant about the salmon, I think the puppy was intended as a courting gift.”

His frown deepened. “Courting gift? Giving a woman a pet is more a betrothal gift than a courting gift.”

“Whatever. The point is, I’m not living alone. And the only reason you’re being a featherheaded jackass about Falco is because you want to court Selena and don’t know how to do it.”

“I never said I wanted to court Selena!”

“But you do want to, don’t you?”

“Yes, I want to, but I never said it!” He crossed his arms and muttered, “Stone-headed female.”

Breanna crossed her arms in exactly the same way and muttered, “Featherheaded jackass.”

Finally remembering they had an audience, he looked at the Crone sitting in a chair across from them.

Her lips were pressed together and she was shaking with the effort not to laugh.

Breanna hunched further into the sofa. “You wanted to talk to me, Grandmother?”

The Crone laughed, shook her head, and rose. “There’s no need. I’ve already learned what I needed to know. But remember, Breanna, I
am
your elder now. If you need my help—for anything—you must come to me ... or ask me to come to you.” She walked over to Liam and took his face between her hands. “And you, Grandson. A witch enjoys being courted the same way as any other woman.”

Liam looked sulky. “I refuse to spend my evenings writing bad poetry.”

The Crone sighed. “That’s too bad. It would give her something to laugh over when she’s my age.”

They sat side by side for a long time after the Crone walked out of the room.

“Truce?” Liam finally said. “I won’t nag you about Falco, and you won’t nag me about Selena.”

“Truce.” Breanna smiled. “Besides, there are plenty of other things I can nag you about. Rhyann made up a list for me.”

Liam hovered in the doorway, watching Selena pack her saddlebags. “You don’t have to go.”

“This is your mother’s room, and she’s coming back to live here with you and Brooke.”

“There are plenty of other rooms. You don’t have to go.”

“Yes, I do.”

It wasn’t fair. From the moment she’d arrived at Willowsbrook, they’d been caught up in the fight to survive. Now, when they could finally spend a little time getting to know each other better, she was leaving. “Why?”

He found the color suddenly flooding her cheeks intriguing.

“Because my father would disapprove,” she said, stuffing garments into the saddlebags with more speed than care.

So her father had gentry sensibilities when it came to his daughter.
That
he understood.

“Where are you going?”

“Not far. Across the brook, actually.” The color in her cheeks deepened. “Breanna said they have plenty of room, and since her handfast to Falco was witnessed by the Bard, the Muse,
and
her family’s elder, it would be proper to stay with them. And— And she mentioned that it wouldn’t be that far for a ... friend

... to ride to come visit.”

To hide his own delight, he muttered, “She’s been spending too much time with Rhyann.”

“Oh, Rhyann’s going to live there, too.” Selena looked up, her eyes filled with amusement.

“Mother’s tits.”

She laughed. “Rhyann does tend to produce that reaction.” Picking up her saddlebags, she walked to the door, stopping when he didn’t move aside. “Thank you for your hospitality, Baron Liam.”

“It was my pleasure, Lady Selena.” He took the saddlebags from her and smiled. “I’ll see you to your horse. It’s the least a friend can do.”

After glancing at Lyrra, who nodded, Aiden reined in. “Ashk?”

She turned the dark horse and walked it back to them.

He understood her keeping the dark horse. She’d lost her horse, he’d lost his rider, and since there were two other dark horses at Bretonwood, he’d also be among his own kind.

But he didn’t understand about the puppy.

When they’d stopped at that inn on their way back through the Mother’s Hills, it had broken his heart when the innkeeper asked about Morag, explaining that he was keeping a bitch puppy for her—a shadow hound mix. Lyrra had burst into tears. Ashk had simply walked away. But the next morning, when they were getting ready to leave, she came out of the inn wearing an odd kind of sling with the puppy tucked inside.

She wouldn’t talk about it, had actually said very little during the journey back to the west.

“What is it, Aiden?”

He didn’t want to voice his thoughts. Everyone else had already parted from them. The Fae who lived closest to the western bay were escorting Mihail’s wife and daughter to a harbor town where a ship would take them to Sealand. The Fae from other Clans had split off, taking other routes to return home.

The handful of huntsmen from Bretonwood were the only ones left except for him and Lyrra. But this was the place—and it was time.

“This is where we part ways,” he said gently.

“You’re welcome to stay with the Bretonwood Clan.”

“We know. But we’ve been talking, doing a lot of thinking. We don’t really want to live with the Clans anymore. We’ve lived in the same world and remained strangers—the Fae, humans, and witches. Since Lyrra and I have more experience living outside the Clans ... Well, there’s a place we’d like to go if they’

ll accept us.”

Ashk looked puzzled. Then she studied the unmarked road that forked off the main road—and smiled for the first time in days. “Oh, I think they’ll welcome the Muse and the Bard and his dancing horse. You’ll let me hear from you when you’re settled in.”

“And we’ll come to Bretonwood for a visit before the Winter Solstice.” Because the thought had been weighing on him more heavily the closer they got to this spot, he finally said what he’d wanted to say since they left Willowsbrook. “She only wanted to go home.”

Ashk looked away. “She couldn’t. She dreamed of it, Aiden. That’s what haunted her. She dreamed of an enemy she couldn’t find fast enough, couldn’t stop. But she saw what it did. She saw it kill the people she loved. That’s why she asked for the promise. If she couldn’t stop it, I had to.” Her eyes filled with tears. “But she will come home.”

“You think she’ll come back to one of the western Clans this time? Maybe even Bretonwood?”

“No, I don’t think she’ll come back to the Clans. I think, not too many years from now, Ari will look into her baby daughter’s eyes and recognize the spirit looking back at her. And when that day comes, Morag will be home.” Turning the dark horse, she added, “Blessings of the day to you,” and rode away.

He stared after her.

“The dark horse,” Lyrra whispered. “The puppy.”

Aiden nodded. “From the moment she decided to take the dark horse, she’s been preparing for that day, whenever it will come.” He wiped the tears from his eyes and took a deep breath to steady himself. “

Come along, wife. Let’s see if we can find our own place in the world.”

Backtracking a few steps, they headed down the unmarked road.

Wiccandale was still the prettiest village Aiden had ever seen. The first time they’d ridden down this main street, he and Lyrra had been traveling to Bretonwood, still searching for the Hunter, and the people’s wariness of strangers had provided a cold welcome—until Minstrel changed the tune. This time, when they rode to the tavern, men nudged each other and smiled. Women pointed at Minstrel and whispered something to their children that made the children laugh.

“So you’ve come back,” the tavern owner said, coming out to stand in his doorway. “And in good time as well. Come along, then. I’ll show you the cottage and you can decide if it suits you.” He turned his head and shouted, “Kellie! The Bard, the Muse, and the dancing horse have come. I’ll be showing them old Nara’s cottage.”

“Tell them to come back for supper!” a woman shouted in reply. “They’ll not be wanting to cook their own supper their first night.”

“Done and done. I’m Gavin, by the way. Come along. It isn’t far.” He set off at a brisk walk.

Bewildered, Aiden and Lyrra urged the horses to follow him.

He was right. The cottage wasn’t far, but it was set off by itself.

“It was the women in Nara’s family who first walked the boundaries of Wiccandale and gave the wiccanfae a place to call their own that wasn’t quite Clan, wasn’t quite a human village but a bit of both, do you see? And so it’s been with us. There’s more witches among us than in times past, but there’s still plenty of us who are wiccanfae.”

“I’m wiccanfae,” Lyrra murmured.

“Are you, now? Well, then.”

The cottage was lovely, warm and welcoming, but Gavin didn’t give them time to linger before herding them back outside.

“That bit of a barn there has plenty of room for a couple of horses, a ponycart, tack and feed,” Gavin said, pointing. “On that side of the stone fence is common pasture, but this here is part of the land in Nara

’s keeping. Those fruit trees and berry bushes, too, along with the hayfield. Now. Over the past few years, Nara had a bargain with a few of us about the hayfield. We’d tend it and harvest it. She received enough hay to see her animals through the seasons and we split the rest between us. Worked well for everyone. If you’re agreeable, we’ll keep doing the same. Since I’ve got the tavern and have use for them, Nara gave me and Kellie her cow and chickens, with the understanding that whoever took the cottage would get the milk and eggs they needed.” When he finally paused, Aiden just nodded, not sure what else to do. Cows? Chickens? Hayfields?

“What happened to Nara?” Lyrra asked.

“She packed up. Said she was needed in the world, what with all the troubles going on in the east. Now that it’s settled, she said witches were needed to touch the land again, wake up the magic in the Old Places. A few of the youngsters went with her, those of an age to have restless feet and a desire to see what’s beyond the home fields. So she said I was to find someone to care for the place while she was gone. She’s got nieces and nephews—I should know, I’m one of them—but we’ve all got our own places and we’re happy where we are.”

“Why us?” Aiden asked.

Gavin gave him a long look. “Well, I’ll tell you, Bard. The day Nara packed up her ponycart, she took me aside and told me she’d had a dream the night before about the right people for this land. She told me she dreamed she walked her land just like she always did, but she heard music in the air around the fruit trees and stories bloomed among her flowers. When I heard you were coming into the village, it just seemed ... It was like she knew you were coming. So, what do you think, Bard?”

His head was spinning, and he wasn’t sure what he thought. But now that Gavin had finally stopped talking, he realized the man was fidgety, nervous—and he understood why. Gavin wanted them to stay.

Whether it was because of Nara’s dream or for some other reason, he and Lyrra were wanted here, welcome here.

He looked around again at the cottage, at the small barn that would be a snug shelter for the horses, at the flower and vegetable gardens. He could see himself sitting under the fruit trees with his harp, working on a song. He could picture Lyrra sitting on that bench near the flowers, working on a story or just sitting peacefully and letting her gift flow into the world. He could see them in the tavern on winter evenings, entertaining friends and neighbors. He could see it—and the picture warmed his heart.

“So, what do you think?” Gavin asked again.

Feeling Lyrra’s hand slip into his, Aiden smiled. “I think we’ve come home.”

Anne Bishop
is the award-winning author of the
Black Jewels Trilogy
. She lives in upstate New York.

Her Web site is www.annebishop.com.