PROLOGUE (139 page)

Liath screamed her outrage as anger bloomed into wings at her back. Her kinsfolk, wings hissing in the aether and voices booming and muttering like thunder, stepped back to give her room as she leaped up and out of the river of fire.

Despite everything, Da had not abandoned her. Nor would she abandon her own child. Never would she abandon her own child.

Yet was it already too late?

Because Da did nothing but run the last years of his life, he had taught Liath to run, to turn away, to hide herself. She couldn't even truly love the ones she wanted to love, because she could not reach out to them, not with her heart entire. She had taken the key and thrown it away long ago, escaping from Hugh, but she hadn't understood then that she had also walled herself away, that the city of memory Da had taught her to build in her mind's eye was another barrier against those who sought to embrace her with friendship and love.

Ivar had never threatened her. But she had seen his infatuation as a threat. She had disdained him because she did not know how to be his friend.

Hanna had given her friendship without asking anything in return, but Liath had walked away from her to go with Sanglant.

Yet she had not even been able to love Sanglant with a whole heart. She had loved him for his body and his charisma but she had never truly known
him.
He remained a mystery; despite his protestation that he was no onion with layers of complexity and meaning to be uncovered, he was not as simple as all that. No one ever is. She had never looked to see what lay beneath the surface, because the surface was easy enough to polish and keep bright.

Ai, God, even Blessing. She had watched Sanglant love the baby unreservedly. But she had always held a part of herself back, the crippled part, the part that had never learned to trust.

The part that was afraid of being vulnerable, killed by love, and by hope, and by trust again, and again. And again.

"No," she said, from this height looking down over the glorious palaces and the river of fire, looking down at her kinsfolk gathered in a flock beneath, hovering halfway between the heavy silver sheet of the sky and the river's flashing, molten surface.” I'm not ready to leave them behind because I don't even know them yet."

She opened herself to the measure of their wings and let them see into her heart, into the burning bright soul that was the gift her mother had given her.” Maybe this will be my home one day," she added, "but it can't be now."

"Child,"
they said, in love and as a farewell.

What need had they to mourn her leaving? The span of one mortal's years on Earth might pass in the same span it took to cross one of those shimmering bridges that linked the golden palaces: a thousand steps, or a song. Her soul was immortal, after all, and half her substance was fire.

She could return.

"So be it," she said. Eldest Uncle had taught her that in the secret heart of the universe the elements can be illuminated, touched, and molded. She reached, found fire, and drew out of the invisible architecture of the aether the burning stone that marks the crossroads between the worlds.

Blue fire flared all along its length. She stepped through to find herself landing with a surprisingly hard thump in the midst of flowers, heavenly blues, blood-soaked reds, and so many strong golds and piercing whites that her eyes hurt. Her buttocks and hips ached from the impact, and even her shoulders were jarred. She was stark naked, hair falling loose past her breasts and down her back. In a heap beside her lay her cloak and boots, her clothes, her sword, belt, and knife, and her quiver, although it was empty. All her arrows were missing. Her bow and Sanglant's gold torque lay tumbled on top, as though all this had fallen here in company with her descent.

She was back in the meadow of flowers, in Aoi country.

Still shaking, she reached out to touch the cold, braided surface of the gold torque, frowning as she picked it up, no longer hers to claim. No longer hers to fear and retreat from.

Anne is not my mother.

She laughed out loud, awash in an exhilarating sense of freedom.

"So," said a man's harsh voice not ten paces away, "more than one day and one night have passed, Bright One. Feather Cloak's protection no longer shields you. Now I will have your blood to make my people strong."

Startled, she looked up to see fully fifty Ashioi surrounding her, fearsome animal masks pulled down to conceal their faces. Every one held a weapon, and the one in front had lowered his spear to point at her heart.

Cat Mask and his warriors had come to kill her.

HOME.

He had come home, and Adica was here, whole and alive, waiting for him, just as he had hoped and prayed and dreamed. For the longest time he simply held on to her, wanting never to let her go, breathing in the lavender scent of her hair, but at last he became aware of the hounds butting into them and the villagers, around them, waiting to greet him.

That, too, took a while. Even Beor laughed to see him, and he was surprised how happy he was himself to see all these familiar, cheerful faces. His people, now. His home.

He had to make Sos'ka and her comrades known to Adica and Mother Weiwara. In fact, he had to interpret for them all since the Horse people did not speak a tongue known to the tribes of the White Deer folk. The centaurs made a pretty obeisance to Adica, honoring her as a Hallowed One, and it was agreed that they would stay until after the dark of the sun to help protect her and only then return to their own tribe. All the children wanted a ride, and the haughty centaurs relented enough to let the youngsters be helped up onto their backs. Meanwhile, Urtan, Beor, and the other men insisted on showing Alain the hard work the villagers and other work parties had done over the spring, summer, and early autumn.

"See what a fine palisade we've built!" boasted Beor, as though he had achieved a personal victory against the Cursed Ones by hoisting logs into place.” Although I notice that you came back only after all the hard work was done."

"Queens' Grave is ringed by a wall!" exclaimed Alain, amazed by how the wood posts changed the aspect of the great tumulus, making it look rather like a slumbering porcupine.” How could you have done that in only two seasons?"

"We had work parties from all the other villages, Two Streams, Pine Top, Muddy Walk, Old Fort, Four Houses. Even Spring Water. It took us all summer to build it, and I think we must have felled the forest all the way from here to Four Houses!" All the men laughed, but no one disagreed.

"Who cares about the work we did?" cried Kel.” You must tell us all the things you saw!"

"I hope you will," agreed Urtan, chuckling, "if only to keep this fly from buzzing all day. We haven't had a moment's peace from him since you left."

"You should have taken me with you!" protested Kel when all the men laughed.” I wouldn't have faltered! When will you tell us the tale of your journey?"

"Patience," replied Alain, laughing with the others, although in truth he was looking around to see where Adica had gone. She had retreated from the village quietly, with all the attention shifting to the centaurs and to him, and he finally spotted her in the distance by the birthing house, finishing some hallowing task.

Urtan chased the other men away, even Kel.” Go on," he said.

Alain hurried along the river to the birthing house, the hounds loping alongside, but he was careful not to cross the fence onto ground where only women were granted leave to walk. On the other side, Adica picked flower petals off the ground, expression pensive as she searched among the low grass for each precious one, those that hadn't blown away. Had she changed so much since the first time he had seen her, or had he?

She had certainly seemed attractive, that day almost a year ago, especially wearing that provocative corded skirt whose every shift along her thighs revealed skin and glimpses of greater mysteries, but he would not have called her pretty, not with a slightly crooked nose, the livid burn scar on her cheek, an overly-generous mouth, and a narrow chin.

Now he knew that she was beautiful.

"Adica."

She looked up. Her smile made her beautiful, the light in her face, the ragged lilt of her voice, the graceful confidence of her movements as she came to embrace him by the fence, the shadow of sadness in her expression that he struggled every moment to wipe away, so that she would know nothing but joy.

"What's this?" asked Alain when he could finally bear to let go of her. He lifted her right hand and studied the lapis lazuli ring adorning her middle finger.” This looks very like a ring I once gave to a woman who needed my help."

"So you did. I met her in a vision trance, and she gave it to me. She thought you needed it."

He shuddered, but maybe that was only the cold breeze on his neck.” What magic can make a ring travel through visions? Where did you see her? You were in a trance when I saw you last. Ai, God, I have so many questions. I know now you came safely to Queen Shuashaana's palace, and that she returned you here. Did Laoina return to her tribe? I feared I had lost you, beloved."

"Nay," she said, almost in tears as she buried her face against his chest and just held him. Sorrow and Rage settled down nearby, willing to wait her out. After a while, she was able to go on: she had woken out of her vision trance in the care of Shu-Sha and, after a few days waiting for Alain and recovering, Shu-Sha had sent her home alone through the stone looms.” I only got back yesterday. I thought I'd lost you."

"But you did not. I told you I would never leave you. How many times do I have to tell you?" He smiled and kissed her.” Tell me about the ring."

She described the trance, but her words did not really make sense to him. Was it truly Liath she had seen? Was Liath dead? Or was Adica simply unable to describe the place he had once known, the halls where nobles walked and feasted and where the church reigned in splendor? Had Adica's vision shown her the future, or the past?

"I thought I heard the prince speak of Liathano," he said, re-'

membering his conversation with the two brothers, "but he was talking of the Holy One, who is called in her own tongue Li'at'-dano."

Adica clapped hands over her ears.” I must not hear the holy name, lest it burn me!"

"Nay, beloved, do not be frightened. It was given to me freely. Why can't I share it with you?" He sighed, shaking his head.” Maybe I am afraid to say it myself. She told me there was one who would be given her name in the time yet to come. But if that's so—" He shook his head. The only explanation that occurred to him seemed so outrageous, so disorienting, so impossible, that he fled to the refuge of the answer the centaur shaman had given him in the end.” I am alive now. Nothing else matters. I will not question the good fortune that brought me to your side, Adica."

She tugged on the ring, to pull it off.

"Nay, you must wear it. The stone will protect you from evil."

"Alain," she began, hesitant, almost choked, "there's something I must tell you." She stopped, looking past him with a sudden expression of relief.” Mother Weiwara!"

"I thought you might like help, Hallowed One. I can gather up the herbs and petals you spilled. I know you would like to finish the purification, so you can be alone with your husband sooner." With a smile for Alain, Weiwara crossed the fence and the two women walked away, Adica leaning toward her friend, whispering urgently.

Surely it was not his fault that the wind lifted their murmuring voices and brought them to his ears.

"What must I do? He doesn't know."

"Haven't you told him?"

"I can't bear to. What if it frightens him away from me?"

"Nay, Hallowed One, do not say so. You know that isn't true. The Holy One sent him. He won't desert you."

Adica's answer was lost as the two women ducked inside the birthing house. A moment later Weiwara emerged and, with a dismissive wave at Alain, started picking up the pouches and petals scattered on the ground.

Alain knew a command when he saw one. He retreated to the less complicated companionship of the men, who were engaged at this time of year in various projects preparing the village for win ter. Urtan set him to work with Kel and Tosti binding thatch for the roof of the men's house, which had developed several leaks during the heavy spring rains. From the roof he could look out over the village and up to the tumulus. Most of the older children had been set to making torches, stuffing and binding wood chips with tow flax or hemp and soaking these flambeaux in beeswax or resin. Women sat in the doors of their houses, weaving baskets. Crab apples had been piled up in heaps to sweat. Now and again he saw men walking along the embankment or hauling water or firewood up through the cleft where two ramparts met and overlapped.