The House of Gaian Read online

  Praise for Anne Bishop

  The Pillars of the World

  The first book of the Tir Alainn Trilogy

  “Bishop only adds luster to her reputation for fine fantasy.”

  —Booklist

  “Reads like a beautiful ballad…. Fans of romance and fantasy will delight in this engaging tale.”

  —BookBrowser

  “Fast-paced adventure, a winsome heroine, and a satisfying conclusion…. Entertaining.”

  —VOYA

  Shadows and Light

  The second book of the Tir Alainn Trilogy

  “A vivid fantasy world…with creatures from legends and myth. Beautiful.”

  —BookBrowser

  The Invisible Ring

  “Entertaining otherworlds fantasy adventure. Fresh and interesting.”

  —Science Fiction Chronicle

  “A weird, but highly diverting and oddly heartwarming mix.”

  —Locus

  “A formidable talent, Ms. Bishop weaves another intense, emotional tale that sparkles with powerful and imaginative magic.”

  —Romantic Times

  “Plenty of adventure, romance, dazzling wizardly pyrotechnics, and [a] unique and fascinating hierarchical magic system. The author’s overall sublime skill [blends] the darkly macabre with spine-tingling emotional intensity, mesmerizing magic, lush sensuality, and exciting action, all set in a thoroughly detailed, invented world of cultures in conflict…. It and its predecessors are genuine gems of fantasy much to be prized.”

  —SF Site

  Praise for theBlack Jewels Trilogy

  Daughter of the Blood

  “Darkly mesmerizing…[a] fascinating, dark world.”

  —Locus

  “Lavishly sensual…a richly detailed world based on a reversal of standard genre clichés.”

  —Library Journal

  “A fabulous new talent…a uniquely realized fantasy filled with vibrant colors and rich textures. A wonderful new voice, Ms. Bishop holds us spellbound from the very first page.”

  —Romantic Times (4½ stars)

  “Anne Bishop has scored a hit…. Her poignant storytelling skills are surpassed only by her flair for the dramatic and her deft characterization…. A talented author.”

  —Affaire de Coeur

  “Mystical, sensual, glittering with dark magic, Anne Bishop’s debut novel brings a strong new voice to the fantasy field.”

  —Terri Windling, coeditor of The Year’s Best Fantasy and Horror

  Heir to the Shadows

  “A rich and fascinatingly different dark fantasy, a series definitely worth checking out.”

  —Locus

  “Daemon, Lucivar, and Saetan ooze more sex appeal than any three fictional characters created in a very long time.”

  —The Romance Reader

  “Heir to the Shadows isn’t as dark as its predecessor…. All the other elements that made the first book such a gripping read are present: vivid and sympathetic characters, a fascinating and fully-realized magical system (Bishop uses spiderweb imagery to great effect), lavish and sensuous descriptions, and interesting world-building that turns traditional gender roles and concepts of dominance and submission on their heads…. It’s a terrific read, and I highly recommend both it and Daughter of the Blood.”

  —SF Site

  Queen of the Darkness

  “As engaging, as strongly characterized, and as fully-conceived as its predecessors…a perfect—and very moving—conclusion.”

  —SF Site

  “A storyteller of stunning intensity, Ms. Bishop has a knack for appealing but complex characterization realized in a richly drawn, imaginative ambience.”

  —Romantic Times

  “A powerful finale for this fascinating, uniquely dark trilogy.”

  —Locus

  “Fascinating…. One of the most eagerly awaited conclusions to a trilogy.”

  —The Romance Reader

  Also by Anne Bishop

  The Black Jewels series

  DAUGHTER OF THE BLOOD

  HEIR TO THE SHADOWS

  QUEEN OF THE DARKNESS

  THE INVISIBLE RING

  The Tir Alainn series

  PILLARS OF THE WORLD

  SHADOWS AND LIGHT

  THE HOUSE OF GAIAN

  Anne Bishop

  A ROC BOOK

  ROC

  Published by New American Library, a division of

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,

  New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.

  Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand,

  London WC2R 0RL, England

  Penguin Books Australia Ltd, 250 Camberwell Road,

  Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia

  Penguin Books Canada Ltd, 10 Alcorn Avenue,

  Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4V 3B2

  Penguin Books (N.Z.) Ltd, Cnr Rosedale and Airborne Roads,

  Albany, Auckland 1310, New Zealand

  Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices:

  80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  First published by Roc, an imprint of New American Library,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  Copyright © Anne Bishop, 2003

  All rights reserved

  Cover art by Duane Myers

  REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA

  ISBN: 978-1-1012-1253-0

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  for

  Jennifer Jackson

  and

  Laura Anne Gilman

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1waning moon

  Chapter 2waning moon

  Chapter 3waning moon

  Chapter 4waning moon

  Chapter 5waning moon

  Chapter 6waning moon

  Chapter 7dark of the moon

  Chapter 8new moon

  Chapter 9new moon

  Chapter 10new moon

  Chapter 11new moon

  Chapter 12waxing moon

  Chapter 13waxing moon

  Chapter 14waxing moon

  Chapter 15waxing moon

  Chapter 16waxing moon

  Chapter 17waxing moon

  Chapter 18waxing moon

  Chapter 19waxing moon

  Chapter 20waxing moon

  Chapter 21waxing moon

  Chapter 22waxing moon

  Chapter 23waxing moon

  Chapter 24waxing moon

  Chapter 25waxing moon

  Chapter 26waxing moon

  Chapter 27waxing moon

  Chapter 28waxing moon

  Chapter 29waxing moon

  Chapter 30waxing moon

  Chapter 31waxing moon

  Chapter 32waxing moon

  Chapter 33waxing moon

  Chapter 34waxing moon

  Ch
apter 35waxing moon

  Chapter 36waxing moon

  Chapter 37waxing moon

  Chapter 38waxing moon

  Chapter 39waxing moon

  Chapter 40full moon

  Chapter 41full moon

  Chapter 42waning moon

  Chapter 43waning moon

  Chapter 44waning moon

  Chapter 45waning moon

  Chapter 46waning moon

  Chapter 47waning moon

  Chapter 48waning moon

  Chapter 49waning moon

  Chapter 50waning moon

  Chapter 51waning moon

  Chapter 52waning moon

  Chapter 53waning moon

  Chapter 54new moon

  Chapter 55waning moon

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  My thanks to Blair Boone for continuing to be my first reader; Kandra and Debra Dixon for being beta readers; Nadine Fallacaro for information about things medical; Kristen Britain, Pat York, Paul Butler, Jim Hetley, Katherine Lawrence, Uriel, and Lisa Spangenberg for their thoughts and suggestions about weapons; and Pat and Bill Feidner for their continued support and encouragement.

  Chapter 1

  waning moon

  Ashk, Bretonwood’s Lady of the Woods, wandered the familiar woodland trails of her Clan’s Old Place. Neall, distant kin to her despite his human face, walked beside her. She saw questions in his blue eyes, but he kept the silence she’d held since she came to his cottage early that morning and asked him to accompany her.

  These trails knew her tread, both her human feet and the pads of the shadow hound that was her other form. And she knew the trails. She didn’t want to leave Bretonwood, but she had to, had to keep her heart and mind on the task ahead. Whether or not she could do that depended on the young man who walked beside her.

  At the end of the trail, she hesitated a moment before walking into the sunlit meadow. A favorite place. A special place where her grandfather had taken her to play and to learn to be a Lady of the Woods—and, later, although she wasn’t aware of it at the time, to be the Green Lord…and the Hunter. He was buried in that meadow, right where he’d fallen after her arrow pierced his heart. A swift death that honored the old Lord of the Woods rather than the lingering, soul-wasting death that the nighthunter bites would have caused him. The Fae put up no markers like humans did, and Ari, Neall’s wife and Bretonwood’s witch, had worked her magic with care, so there was no mound of dirt, no disturbance in the grass and wildflowers. And yet, she could feel a lingering something when she was close to the spot, something she recognized as Kernos even though the Gatherer had taken his spirit to the Shadowed Veil so that he could go on to the Summerland.

  What needs to be said and done today…it’s fitting that it’s done here, Ashk thought. I miss you, Kernos. I miss your laughter and your wisdom…. And I hope with all that’s in me that I have the strength and courage you believed me to have.

  She walked to the center of the meadow before she set her bow, canteen, and quiver of arrows on the ground. Her woodland eyes, a brown-flecked green, scanned the trees as she ruffled her ash-brown hair with her fingers. The cropped hair felt strange after letting it flow down her back for so many years, but she couldn’t afford to have anything interfere with the smooth, swift movement of drawing an arrow from the quiver and nocking it to the bow. Not where she was going. Not with the enemy she was heading out to meet. It would be better to die a swift death than to fall into the Inquisitors’ hands.

  Neall set his things beside hers as he, too, scanned the trees. “I don’t see any sign of the nighthunters.”

  “There are a few left, but not many,” Ashk replied. “There’s still a feeling of wrongness in the woods, but it’s fainter now.” She looked at Neall, who was still crouched beside their weapons. “You feel it, too.”

  “Yes.”

  Ashk nodded. He didn’t understand yet what his being so attuned to the subtleties of the woods meant, but soon he would.

  “Ashk.” Neall rose to his feet. He took a deep breath, puffing his cheeks as he exhaled. “With everything that needs to be done, do you really think we should take the time for a lesson?”

  For this one, Ashk thought, stepping away from the weapons. Because of what needs to be done, it’s time for this one.

  Neall followed a few steps behind her, his eyes and attention still on the trees. The nighthunters didn’t like sunlight, and she and Neall were in the center of the large, sunlit meadow; but even during the daylight hours, the creatures the Inquisitors had created by twisting magic were a threat in the shadows of the woods.

  He wasn’t paying attention to her because he trusted her.

  She turned, said, “Change,” immediately shifted into her other form, and sprang at him, her fangs bared.

  Even a month ago, he would have hesitated for that fatal moment that would have given her the advantage. Now he shifted in an instant, and the young stag leaped aside, pivoting as soon as he touched the ground, his head lowered, the tines of his antlers a weapon against her fangs.

  She charged him again and again—and he met her, again and again, never giving her the opening to leap in and nip him in a place that, in a real attack, could disable him. He thought like a man, but he’d learned how to use that stag body that was his other form. Because he thought like a man, he didn’t do the one thing a real stag would have done—he didn’t run. There were times when she’d chased him around the meadow to build his endurance, to help him learn the stag body, but this lesson was a battle to confirm something for herself and to prove something to him.

  Panting from the effort, she finally leaped away, putting some distance between them. Then she changed back to her human form.

  “Enough,” she said, walking slowly toward their gear.

  He remained in stag form, pivoting to watch her.

  She bent to pick up her canteen, winced a little as her muscles protested. It had been awhile since she’d worked that hard in her shadow hound form. She glanced at him, could feel his confusion and anger pulsing over the meadow. “Enough, Neall.”

  He hesitated a moment longer, then changed back to human form and strode toward her, his hands curled into fists.

  “Mother’s tits, Ashk! What was that about?”

  “A lesson,” she replied quietly. She opened the canteen and filled her mouth with water, savoring the cool wetness before she swallowed. “Kernos did it differently with me, but the lesson was the same.”

  He stared at her. As understanding filled his blue eyes, he shook his head in denial. “I’m not.”

  “You are.”

  “I can’t become the Lord of the Woods. I’m not pure Fae. They would never accept it. Besides,” he added, sounding a bit desperate, “you’re the Hunter now, and I’m not about to challenge you.”

  Ashk took another sip of water before answering. “Do you accept that you are a Lord of the Woods?”

  He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “That’s not the same thing.”

  “Do you accept what you are?”

  “Yes,” he said reluctantly.

  Ashk nodded. “Yes. You’re Fae, Neall. Looks alone are not what determines who is and isn’t Fae. It’s the gift of the other form, and our command of the animals in our world, that separates us from the humans and the wiccanfae. And you, my young stag, cannot deny that you have that gift.”

  “But…”

  “Your mother was a witch, but she was born of a witch mother and a Fae father. And your father was born of human and Fae. Those matings made you what you are.”

  “Ashk…”

  “As the Hunter, I command you, young Lord. And as the Hunter, I am telling you what I require of you.”

  Looking troubled, Neall stepped forward and fetched his own canteen.

  Ashk took another mouthful of water, closed her canteen, and dropped it on the grass at her feet. She waited until he had slaked his thirst before speaking, keeping her eyes focused on the meadow, knowing intuitively that he’d listen with le
ss protest if she wasn’t looking directly at him.

  “Padrick and I have talked,” she said quietly, “and we’ve decided some things that concern you. I’ve told the Clan bard, so he’ll stand as witness, but Padrick needs to do things the human way because of his estate and because he’s a baron, so he’s having his man of business draw up the papers naming you the guardian of Evan and Caitlin.”

  “Ashk—”

  “It’s necessary,” she said sharply, cutting him off. “If something happens to Padrick, Evan becomes the next Baron of Breton. But he’s still a child, and he’ll need someone who can teach him what it means to be a good baron. You lived in a baron’s house when you were growing up. You understand how to run an estate and what the people need. You can teach him those things.” She took a deep breath to steady herself, feeling her stomach clench at the thought of having to say the next words. “And if something should happen to Evan, Padrick has named you his second heir.”

  “Ashk—”

  “It’s proper,” she said, giving him a slashing look that silenced him. “It’s customary for the title of baron to be passed from father to eldest son, but a baron can name anyone his heir, whether he has sons or not. Padrick has cousins, but none that he feels would rule Breton and this county the way it needs to be ruled, none who would understand the wants and needs of all the people who live here—the Fae, the humans, the wiccanfae, and the Small Folk, too.” Watching him, she smiled at his discomfort. “The Small Folk have always been wary of the Fae, even here where we live in the world and walk the same woods, but they do talk to the Green Lady, and I’ve heard quite a bit about the young Lord of the Woods and the witch who has taken him for her husband. ‘Look here now, Lady Ashk’”—she lowered her voice to imitate one of the small men—“‘It’s a fine thing for Lady Ari to be giving us a bit of cream or butter that’s more than she has use for, and it’s a fine thing for the young Lord to offer us a bit of beef. It’s a treat to have them, so it is, but we’re a wee bit worried that they’re leaving their own table too lean, if you see what we’re saying.’ And I lie with an honest heart and assure them that I’ve never known the stew to be thin of meat or that either of you did without butter or cream,” she finished in her own voice.