The Pillars of the World Page 12

  “Sum . . . merland. Please.” The words were slurred, the effort to say that much horrific.

  “I’ll take you to the Shadowed Veil.” Her power reached out again, and she quietly gathered the woman’s soul. As the link between soul and body unraveled, the woman’s breath came out with a relieved sigh. It was the last sound, the last movement she made.

  When Morag rose to her feet, the woman’s ghost stood beside her.

  Feeling awkward, Morag asked a question she had never asked before. “Should the body be taken somewhere?”

  The woman shook her head. “The Small Folk will take it home and give it to the Mother.”

  “Home?”

  The woman looked at the trees Morag had been riding through before Death had called her. “The Old Place is . . . was my home.”

  Morag felt the land darken, as if thick clouds had formed a shroud around the sun. “Come.” She turned toward the dark horse but didn’t mount. Not quite looking at the woman, she said, “Why did they do this to you?”

  Sorrow filled the woman’s ghostly eyes. “Because I’m a witch.”

  Witch. The word seemed to echo through the meadow.

  How many of the young women that I have taken to the Shadowed Veil would have given me the same answer if I had asked?

  “Come,” Morag said, mounting her horse. The woman’s ghost floated up to ride behind her.

  “Wait!” the young man’s ghost shouted. “What about me? You can’t leave me here!”

  Morag looked at him. “Yes, I can.”

  She urged the dark horse forward. It cantered across the meadow, not back toward the Old Place, but toward a break in the trees.

  Unlike the roads that crossed the Veil into Tir Alainn, the road to the Shadowed Veil would open anywhere when one of Death’s Servants summoned it. She could have opened that road right in the meadow, but she hadn’t wanted the young man’s ghost to be able to reach it before it closed again. So she rode out of the meadow and continued until she was well out of sight. Unless they were released by someone who had the power to set them on the soul’s road, ghosts were held to a place. Since he had died in the meadow, he would be able to wander all through it, but he could never go beyond it.

  And she would never return to it. She would take the witch to the Shadowed Veil and then head west, deeper into Sylvalan. She would return to the Midlands, to the part of Tir Alainn where her own Clan dwelled, and there she would finally rest for a while.

  You’ll only break your own heart if you try to help them.

  The one who had been the Gatherer before her had been right about that. Let the humans take care of themselves, if they could. But the witches . . . Ah, the witches. That would require some thought.

  When she got home, she would ask the Clan bard what he knew about the witches. And she would ask where the Bard was staying these days. If anyone had the answers she was seeking, it was Aiden.

  Chapter Eleven

  After coming down the road through the Veil, Dianna skirted the edge of Brightwood, keeping to the game trails, where she was less likely to be seen. It would have been easier to simply cross the meadow to reach the cottage, but she had a stop to make first in order to make her plan work. Her mare was too distinctive for anyone not to notice, and the glamour that successfully masked the Fae when they wanted to appear human never quite worked on the horses. So she would get a horse that wasn’t so obvious—and she knew who would give her one. At least, she thought he would.

  Her chest tightened at the thought of approaching him.

  Crossing the road, she let the mare ease into a slow canter over the same fields she’d ridden through at the Summer Moon.

  She didn’t understand the Fae Clans in the west of Sylvalan who spent as much time in the human world as they did in Tir Alainn. There was something . . . uncomfortable . . . about being around members of those Clans. They were more feral, and darker in intent, than the rest of the Fae.

  No, she didn’t understand them. She understood even less a Fae who had forsaken Tir Alainn completely to live out his life among these humans. If he wanted to pretend to be human, he should at least give up the title he had held for three generations so that someone else could stand in his place. Oh, he’d accepted any challenges for the title over the years. He’d won every one of them—and his challengers didn’t always survive.

  What made her most uneasy was that she wasn’t sure how much deference she could demand from him. She wasn’t even sure there was anyone who could make demands of him. And because of what he commanded, he could be a dangerous enemy for human and Fae alike.

  There really wasn’t a choice. She was concerned about Lucian, and pretending to be a human gentry lady really was the simplest way to find out what she needed to know. Which meant getting the loan of a horse. Which meant approaching the Lord of the Horse.

  Reining the mare back to a sedate trot, Dianna wove the glamour magic around herself while she was still far enough away from the farmhouse that no one would be able to make out the face behind the human mask. She’d dressed carefully in a riding habit that resembled closely enough the garments worn by gentry ladies. The glamour simply completed the illusion.

  A few moments after trotting into the yard, she realized the glamour would fool no one here.

  The young man who was the first to notice her took a sharp look at her, than a longer, sharper look at her mare. After the slightest hesitation, he touched his fingers to the brim of his cap as a salute, then strode quickly toward the paddocks nearest the stable where several other men were gathered to watch a couple of young horses being trained.

  Distaste rippled through Dianna, a natural enough reaction to meeting a human who had so much Fae blood in him that his eyes remained clear-sighted instead of being clouded by the glamour. She should have considered that children sired by Fae men would seek out a place like this where their mixed heritage would be tolerated, if not accepted outright.

  She pushed the thought away when the strongly built, gray-haired man turned away from the paddocks and approached her. There was no welcome in his dark eyes, nor any sign of deference in his manner.

  “Lord Ahern,” Dianna said courteously.

  “Huntress,” he replied gruffly.

  He knew who she was. Not just that she was Fae, but who she was. And it made no difference to him.

  “I’ve come to ask a favor,” she said, offering a smile that normally had other men eagerly promising to fulfill her slightest whim.

  “You can ask.”

  She hadn’t really expected that smile to work, but she would have felt better if it had softened him just a little. “I need the loan of a horse.”

  He studied her mare for a long moment. “Why? What’s wrong with her?”

  Dianna’s teeth clenched. It took a little effort to get her jaw relaxed enough to answer civilly. “There’s nothing wrong with her. I just want a horse that’s less likely to attract notice.”

  “Why?”

  “That should be obvious,” Dianna said coolly.

  “You’ve a mind to go into Ridgeley?”

  Despite the fact that the surrounding land was where she rode the most often when she brought the Wild Hunt to the human world, it still took her a moment to remember that Ridgeley was the name of the nearby village. “No, just a ride through the countryside.”

  “Where?”

  “What difference does it make?”

  He studied her too long, and there was a violence in the back of his eyes that threatened to turn ugly at any moment.

  “Take care where you ride, Huntress,” he said quietly. “Take care what you do here. If you bring harm to those at Brightwood, the only time you’ll feel four legs under you again is when you change to your other form.”

  Dianna’s mouth fell open. “Are you threatening me? Me?”

  “You can take it any way you like,” Ahern replied, turning away from her, “as long as you don’t forget it. Come along. I’ve a horse you can use.�
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  A few minutes later, Dianna trotted away from Ahern’s farm, relieved to be gone. The bay mare she now rode had a blaze and white socks, but nothing that would make it stand out.

  Not a Fae horse, Dianna thought, wincing a little at the loud clopping of hooves on the road. Not even one of the horses Ahern bred from both Fae and human animals. But still a fine animal . . . by human standards.

  With Ahern’s warning still ringing in her ears, she slowed the mare to a walk when she came within sight of the cottage. From that distance, it seemed . . . pleasant. Sturdy. Except for the broken kitchen door, she hadn’t paid much attention to the cottage the other night . . . or any other night when she and her hounds had skirted the meadow on their way to the surrounding countryside. Now she studied the building, trying to determine what was here that Fae males found so attractive.

  Was it simply that the cottage was built in one of the Old Places and the Mother’s power swelled around it so ripe and rich that it enticed Fae men like pollen enticed bees? Or was it the female herself who was so intriguing? If it was the female, what was it about her that could make the Lord of the Horse protective and territorial . . . and infatuate the Lightbringer?

  Beside the cottage was a large plot of land surrounded by a waist-high stone wall. The female working there was too involved in her task to hear the horse’s hooves. Or, perhaps, she paid no attention to travelers. And since the female hadn’t noticed her, Dianna faced her first stumbling block. Would a gentry lady speak to a servant?

  Of course she would, Dianna decided, if only to be presented to the cottage’s owner.

  “Good day to you,” Dianna called as she guided the mare close to the wall.

  The female’s head whipped around. The expression in her eyes, before it turned to just wariness, reminded Dianna of prey scenting a hunter.

  Was it possible the female realized she had been addressed by one of the Fae? Dianna wondered.

  The female turned away and fumbled with the laces of her tunic before getting to her feet. She brushed her hands on her thighs, with no regard to the dirt she was leaving on the cloth, before approaching the wall.

  Dianna breathed out slowly. No, she decided. The creature was simply trying to make herself presentable, and whatever made her wary of visitors had nothing to do with the Fae. Besides, I sense no magic here except what flows from the Mother.

  “Blessings of the day to you, Mistress.”

  “Kindly tell your mistress that I am here.” There. That was surely more courtesy than a servant would usually receive.

  The female frowned, looking puzzled. “There’s no one else here, Mistress.”

  Dianna clenched her teeth, then forced herself to smile. She hadn’t gone to this effort just to be thwarted. “Then I’ll wait for her.”

  The female’s puzzlement deepened. “I didn’t mean she was away, Mistress. I meant there’s no one else here. This is my cottage.”

  Dianna stared. Lucian had spurned the invitations of every Fae Lady over the past few months only to bed this grubby creature?

  “I’m Ari,” the female said with a dignity still touched by wariness. “Is there something I can do for you, Mistress?”

  What to say now? Dianna looked up at the sky, and let a sigh turn into a smile. So that’s what Lucian had been up to.

  “Mistress?”

  Dianna pointed at the puffy clouds that were taking on the shapes of sheep being chased by a dragon. “It would appear that someone is feeling whimsical.” She slanted a glance at Ari to see what her reaction would be to Lucian’s gift. She was more than startled when Ari turned deathly pale and sagged against the wall.

  “No,” Ari said. “Oh, no.”

  “Whatever is the matter?” Dianna asked sharply. When she got no answer, she scrambled out of the sidesaddle and slid off the mare’s back.

  “I didn’t know,” Ari whispered, staring at the clouds. “I thought it was a game or a dream. I didn’t know.”

  “Know what?” Dianna said, reaching across the wall to grab Ari’s arms. What was wrong with the girl? Dianna looked at the sky again. The clouds were already losing their shape. In a few more seconds, there would be nothing to see. “What’s wrong with a bit of whimsy?”

  “Nothing,” Ari said, sounding miserable.

  “Hardly nothing,” Dianna snapped.

  “It’s payment,” Ari snapped back. Temper and pride flashed in her eyes for a moment before she sagged again. “I didn’t ask for payment. I didn’t want payment. I thought it was just a game. I never thought he really would—” She looked at the sky, then grabbed Dianna’s arms, smearing dirt on the sleeves. “Does the sun feel like this elsewhere?”

  Where is elsewhere? Dianna wondered. But now that she considered it . . . “It does seem a bit softer here, not quite as hot.”

  Ari moaned softly. Dianna, losing all patience, shook her. “Stop sounding so pathetic.”

  “You don’t understand!”

  “Then we’ll go inside and sit, and you’ll explain.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You will.” Dianna all but dragged Ari over the wall. Taking the reins, she led girl and horse toward the front door.

  “It’s locked. We have to go to the kitchen door.”

  Around the cottage, stopping just long enough to tie the mare to a post near the cow shed, then into the kitchen, with the girl mumbling, “Come in and be welcome,” as they crossed the threshold, and on through to the main room.

  “Sit,” Dianna ordered, pushing Ari into a chair. Returning to the kitchen, she looked around, frowning. Wine would be good; water would be better than nothing. She didn’t see either. “Where do you keep your water?” she called out.

  “The pump,” was the muttered reply.

  Pump. Mother’s Mercy, she was the Lady of the Moon. What did she know about pumps . . . whatever they were? Even in Tir Alainn, she never made an effort when it came to food or drink. That was for others to do.

  She turned toward the shuffling footsteps. Ari appeared in the kitchen doorway. Dianna didn’t appreciate the sympathetic humor she saw in Ari’s eyes, but it was better than dealing with a shriveling, sniveling female.

  “Pump,” Ari said, stepping up beside Dianna. She grasped the handle of an odd-looking metal object, then moved it up and down a couple of times. Water gushed out. Ari took one of the mugs sitting beside the pump, filled it with water, and handed it to Dianna. She filled another, then made an effort to smile. “You probably don’t see much of your kitchen.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  The smile faded. Ari shuffled back to the main room. She sat down in a rocking chair in front of a cold hearth. Dianna took the other chair.

  “Why are you troubled?” Dianna asked.

  “You wouldn’t understand,” Ari said, her eyes fixed on the mug in her hands.

  Dianna thought she understood at least part of the problem. But how to say enough to get the girl to talk without saying too much? “I may be able to help. I’ve had . . . dealings . . . with the Fae.”

  Oh, that brought some interest.

  “Why do you think this concerns the Fae?” Ari asked cautiously.

  Why indeed? “Because you look at some clouds that are shaped like sheep and a dragon and you act like some gentry lady who grows faint when confronted with the least little thing.” She had no firsthand knowledge of whether or not gentry ladies did this, but there were plenty of songs and stories whose complications began with a human female growing faint over anything and everything. “So it stands to reason that you’re upset because you believe someone did this for your benefit, and the only ones who could do this are the Fae.”

  Ari studied Dianna for a long moment. Then, haltingly, with her face turning pale and flushing in turn, she explained about the Summer Moon and having to offer the fancy to the first male she met.

  There were many things Dianna was sure were left unsaid, but what was most striking was that, while Ari finally admitted that the male sh
e’d given the fancy to was a Fae Lord, she didn’t boast that it had been the Lightbringer who had come to her bed last night.

  “Gifting is a custom among the Fae,” Dianna said.

  “I made a promise,” Ari replied quietly. “I wasn’t expecting anything in return.”

  Not even pleasure for yourself, I’ll wager. Which probably explained why Lucian hadn’t done the easy thing and given Ari a small trinket as a gift. He would have had one or two in his coat pocket. All Fae men did.

  “You made a promise, which is important to you.” Dianna waited until Ari nodded agreement. “And he fulfilled the custom of gifting, which is important to him.”

  “But—”

  Dianna waved a hand impatiently. “He asked you what you wanted, did he not? So what’s wrong with him keeping his promise?”

  “Nothing, when you say it like that, but—”

  “So he gave you a softer day so that you could enjoy working in your garden. What’s wrong with that? It was something that was in his power to give. And the other gift. Consider the children who had looked up at the sky during those few moments and were delighted.” Since Ari still seemed inclined to argue, Dianna cut her off. “You made a promise, and you would have kept it no matter what the man was like. Maybe . . .” Knowing her brother as she did, there was no “maybe” to it. “Maybe he wanted to soften the obligation a bit so that he wouldn’t be unwelcome if he came back.”

  Ari caught her lower lip between her teeth. “Do you mean he’ll do this every time . . . if he chooses to come back?”

  Sensing there was trouble, but not sure what it was, Dianna answered cautiously. “He’s a Fae Lord. He’ll follow his own customs, Ari . . . just as you will follow yours. It will please him if you accept what you may be given.”

  Dianna rose. “I’m glad we met.”

  Ari escorted her to the kitchen door. “Thank you for listening—and for your advice.”

  Dianna just smiled.

  “Blessings of the day to you, Mistress,” Ari said.

  An odd farewell, Dianna thought as she headed back to Ahern’s farm. An odd young woman. Perhaps that was why Ari appealed to Lucian. She wouldn’t say the same things any Fae woman would say to him, or do the same things. There certainly was no harm in her, and hadn’t that been the question that had needed answering?