The House of Gaian ta-3

by Anne Bishop

  "I am," Selena replied.

  "But. . . how will we let you know that the Clans have obeyed your command? How will we send word? And . . . when the huntsmen come down to the human world, where are they supposed to go?"

  "And where is the Bard supposed to meet you?" another bard asked. "We've already sent word that you want to see him, but we couldn't tell him where."

  Wondering how coherent a message three frightened bards could shape, Selena said, "He can find me at the Old Place closest to Willowsbrook. As for the huntsmen . . ." She thought a moment. There would be losses when the Inquisitors' army marched across Sylvalan. Villages would burn. People would die. She wasn't going to be able to prevent all of it. She wasn't going to be able to prevent the deaths of any witches in the path of that army. But if she could block the Black Coats enough, she could force them onto a battleground that could not only be defended but could defend itself. There were reasons why no one with intent to do harm dared enter the Mother's Hills. "The Fae huntsmen should gather at the northern and southern ends of the Mother's Hills, blocking the way into the midlands. Hold those roads and we can keep them out."

  "Block the roads and it's easy enough to go cross-country," one of Gwynith's escorts said.

  "Easy for the Fae," Selena agreed. "But the Inquisitors and the eastern barons will have a human army. They'll use the roads. It's too easy to get lost in unfamiliar land. And angry land can be quite dangerous to travel through," she added softly.

  She felt the tension crackle in the air as the people in front of her realized once again that the earth magic they'd thought of as useful but harmless could be deadly.

  "The western coast is already being protected," she continued, looking at Gwynith, who nodded. "The Clans nearest the midland coastline should be on guard for any ships that enter the harbors there. If the Inquisitors can't come in by land, they may try to come in by sea."

  One of the other western Ladies lifted her hand. "I come from a Clan near the coast, almost at the border between the midlands and the west. Any ships trying to reach the west would have to pass between the mainland and Selkie Island. If the Lord of the Selkies was warned . . . Well, it's been said that no ship passes Selkie Island unless it pleases Lord Murtagh to allow it to pass."

  "Will you send the message to him?" Selena asked.

  "I will, Lady."

  "Huntress," Gwynith's escort said, "if the coast is blocked as well as the north and south . . . Well, I'd try to drive an army right through the center."

  "Exactly," Selena agreed.

  "But. . . the Mother's Hills would be in the way."

  "Yes, the Mother's Hills—and the House of Gaian—would be in the way."

  They all stared at her.

  "You would send the Black Coats' army against your own people?" Gwynith asked, sounding horrified.

  Selena smiled. "They have to reach the Mother's Hills first."

  "Roads," Gwynith's escort said.

  Selena opened the branch of water, found the well near the stables, and called a thin stream of water to her. The water found its way up through the earth near her left foot. "Earth and water. Mud." Calling air and earth, she circled her right hand until a swirling wind picked up some earth and rose waist high. "Earth and air."

  She wanted to laugh at the way they stared at her little dust whirl. When they were children, she and Rhyann used to make these little whirls and have races—until the day the dust whirls got away from them and collided with the laundry their mother had just hung out to dry.

  She banked the connection with water so the water would remain in the well. She slowly banked the wind until the earth it had gathered once more rested with the rest of the land.

  "You all have tasks to perform," she said. "And so do I."

  Before Gwynith could join the other western Ladies, Selena touched her arm to indicate she wanted to speak to her and walked far enough away to keep the conversation private from the other Fae.

  "Where will you go now?" Selena asked.

  "Home," Gwynith replied.

  "Are you needed there right now?"

  Gwynith gave her a wary look. "I hope I always have something to offer my Clan."

  "I wasn't questioning your value to your Clan." Selena looked away. Sometimes pride could chafe. "I'd like you to travel with me for a while."

  Gwynith's eyes widened in surprise. "Travel with you? Me? Why?"

  "Because you understand the Fae, you understand how to travel in Tir Alainn—and because I'm comfortable with you."

  A gleam came into Gwynith's eyes. "If I go with you, would you teach me the moon dance?"

  Selena smiled. "I can try. Come on, then. Let's get your saddlebags packed. I want to leave as soon as possible." She heard a loud snort. "And I'd better explain to Mistrunner that he needs to be patient a bit longer."

  "If you want to stay with him, I'll run back to the Clan house and pack."

  Snort. Stamp.

  "That's probably wise," Selena said dryly.

  Gwynith rushed toward the Clan house, then rushed back. "Huntress?"

  "Selena."

  Gwynith smiled. "Selena. I'm really wiccanfae?"

  "Yes, you're really wiccanfae." Selena shrugged. "Perhaps in other parts of Sylvalan, the word no longer means the same thing as it does in the Mother's Hills."

  "And Dianna and Lucian are wiccanfae?"

  "Yes. She anchors to the branch of earth, and he obviously can draw power from the branch of fire. Having another form is what distinguishes the Fae from the rest of Sylvalan's people, regardless of what other talents that person has. Being connected to a branch of the Great Mother is the heritage of the House of Gaian. Long ago, people who had another form and that connection to the Mother were called wiccanfae—the wise Fae."

  "By the fields, full and fallow." Gwynith shook her head. "Last summer, when the Bard was trying to find out anything he could about the wiccanfae, he guested with Lucian and Dianna's Clan. I wonder what he'll say when he finds out he was dining with the very thing he was searching for and didn't know it."

  Chapter 14

  waxing moon

  Ashk made herself as comfortable as possible on the stone bench that ran along the terrace wall. Tomorrow, or the day after, she would have to drop the glamour of appearing male so that she could spend a few quiet hours in the women's communal room at the Clan house where they would guest.

  She was glad she'd made the decision to make her first appearance as male, however. The Clans had been startled, and uneasy, about the Hunter's sudden reappearance—especially when the Hunter rode into their Clan territory with the Gatherer, the Bard, the Muse, the Sleep Sister, and fifty huntsmen from the western Clans who had come with her to be her personal guard and fighters. Despite their uneasiness, the midland Clans had been resistant to her command that the Fae go down to the human world and join forces with the witches and the humans to defend Sylvalan from the Inquisitors' army. Resistant and surly, each Clan insisting that their Clan was safe and they were keeping a close watch on the witches as the Lightbringer had told them to do, so there was no danger for them—and no reason to soil themselves with further contact with witches, let alone humans.

  There wasn't time to argue, so she and her companions traveled through the Clan territories with as much speed as possible. When necessary, they stopped to rest themselves and the horses for a few hours, or left the others to rest while Ashk and a few escorts went down the shining roads to deliver the letters Padrick had written to particular barons he thought would join them in the fight.

  Soon, though, she would stand in a Clan's territory and issue one command that would be sent to all the Fae. They would either obey that command. . . or discover how much power the Hunter truly had over them.

  But there were other concerns tonight. A bard had ridden in a short while ago and had been terribly relieved to find Aiden guesting at this Clan. Perhaps now they would finally have some news about whether or not Dianna was still the Lady of the Mo
on. Something must be going on, because Aiden and the bard had been standing in the garden far too long, and the bard delivering the message seemed too agitated for the news to be a simple announcement.

  Aiden would bring the news to them when he was ready. Since there was nothing she could do except wait, she turned her thoughts to her biggest concern—to the woman standing a few feet away from her, watching Aiden with dark, troubled eyes.

  With every day they traveled, Morag became edgier, moodier, more unpredictable and volatile. That's why Ashk had stopped arguing with the Clans about sending fighters down to the human world. The last "discussion" had become heated, and when an arrogant Fae Lord had insisted that witches were the Fae's servants, Morag had turned on him and would have ripped out his soul if Ashk and Morphia hadn't intervened.

  Morag understood death so well. That was why she revered life so much. For her to strike out with her gift. . . Mother's mercy. She could ride through a Clan or a human village and leave nothing but corpses in her wake.

  "Morag?" Ashk asked quietly. She waited until Morag looked at her. "Why don't you sit down and rest? I think Aiden will be a while yet."

  Morag hesitated, then sat on the stone bench near Ashk, twisting around to continue watching Aiden.

  "What's wrong, Morag?" Ashk said.

  "Nothing," Morag said flatly.

  Ashk suppressed a spark of temper. "How can anyone help if you won't confide in anyone?"

  "There's nothing to confide."

  Ashk let her breath out in a huff. "Then at least accept Morphia's offer to help you get a decent night's sleep."

  "No."

  She might have given up if she'd hadn't heard a quiver of fear beneath the sharp denial. "I thought we were friends."

  "And you'd do anything for a friend?"

  "Yes, I would."

  Morag looked at her. Really looked at her. Then turned away again to watch Aiden. But after several moments' silence, she said very softly, "I've had dreams. Terrible dreams."

  "Will you tell me what they're about?" Uneasy about what kind of dreams could have affected Morag so much, Ashk worked to keep her voice low and soothing.

  "Insatiable hunger," Morag whispered, shuddering. Then, "Shadows and light. Isn't that what all dreams are about in the end?"

  Shadows and light. Death and life. Why would those be terrible for the Gatherer of Souls?

  "I'll let Morphia give me a dreamless night if you'll make a promise to me," Morag said abruptly.

  "What is the promise?"

  "If I can't stop this . . . If I fail. . . Promise me, Hunter, that you will do what needs to be done."

  Ashk stared at Morag.

  Hunter. Morag wasn't asking for a promise from her friend Ashk. The Gatherer was asking the Hunter. Considering who they both were, Ashk understood quite well what might be asked of her.

  She held out her hand. "I will do what needs to be done. This I promise."

  Morag hesitated, then took Ashk's hand.

  "Come along, now." Ashk stood up, tugged Morag's hand until Morag stood beside her.

  "But. . . Aiden . . ."

  "He'll tell you everything in the morning. Now you need to rest." Ashk looked over at Morphia, who was standing with Sheridan and Lyrra at the other end of the terrace. When she nodded, Morphia hurried over to meet them as Ashk and Morag walked into the Clan house.

  Despite Morphia being the Lady of Dreams and Ashk's continued assurances that she would do what needed to be done, it was an hour before Morag finally sank into a deep, peaceful sleep.

  I will do what needs to be done, Ashk thought as she and Morphia returned to the terrace. Shadows and light. Morag . . . what have I promised you?

  There wasn't time to think about that because Aiden was sitting on one of the benches with Lyrra. Sheridan stood nearby.

  When Lyrra saw them, she gestured impatiently. "Aiden's been waiting for you."

  "If you'd wanted the news sooner, you could have joined the others in the common room to hear the bard's announcement," Aiden said testily.

  Not good. The Bard and the Muse rarely snapped at each other. Ashk understood Lyrra's impatience—they'd all been waiting for some word about what had happened among the Ladies of the Moon—but she wished Lyrra would pay more attention to the distress in Aiden's eyes.

  "I'm here now," Ashk said calmly, coming to stand before Aiden. "What is the news, Bard?"

  "Where's Morag?" Aiden asked, looking from her to Morphia.

  "Sleeping. You can tell her the news in the morning."

  Aiden nodded. He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "Dianna lost the challenge. We have a new Lady of the Moon. A new Huntress."

  Ashk watched Aiden carefully. Had she imagined his slight emphasis on the word Huntress? No. She hadn't imagined anything. Which meant he considered that part of her title to be the more critical change in power.

  "Who is she?" Lyrra said. "What Clan is she from?"

  Aiden didn't look at his wife. He kept his blue eyes fixed on Ashk. "Her name is Selena. She isn't from a Clan."

  Since Lyrra looked ready to debate the reliability of the information, Ashk said firmly, "Let him speak, Muse."

  Lyrra glared at her but kept silent.

  "Her name is Selena," Aiden said again. "She is Fae, but she is first, and always, a Daughter of the House of Gaian." He hesitated. "She comes from the Mother's Hills."

  Ashk felt the muscles in her legs go suddenly limp, and she wondered if she was going to sink to the terrace floor. She was no stranger to the Mother's Daughters, but even for her, thinking of the Mother's Hills produced a shiver up her spine.

  A reflex, a reaction that had no basis in fact. There was no reason to think the witches who lived in the Mother's Hills were different from the witches who lived in the Old Places throughout Sylvalan. They all had the same roots. Their gifts all came from the four branches of the Great Mother. They all lived by the same creed.

  Didn't they?

  That was the crux of it, wasn't it? No one really knew much about the witches who ruled the Mother's Hills. But Padrick had met a few of them when he'd traveled through the hills after seeing Baron Liam of Willowsbrook safely home. And Aiden and Lyrra had gone through the hills to head west in search of the Hunter. None of the travelers had come to harm, and yet. . .

  She had to be strong. She had to stand and be strong. Now more than ever.

  "The new Huntress is a witch?" Lyrra asked, her voice full of disbelief. "How?"

  "She's a Fae Lady of the Moon as well as a witch," Aiden said sharply. "The gift accepted her." He laid a hand on Lyrra's arm. "I know you're annoyed with me for not telling you before the others. Most likely, I would have felt the same way. But, please, Lyrra. Please listen."

  Lyrra looked down at his hand. "You're shaking. Why are you shaking?" She studied his face closely, the Muse's annoyance with the Bard forgotten.

  "The new Huntress wants to see the Bard—and I'm afraid."

  Ashk felt her heart leap against her chest. "What haven't you told us yet, Aiden?" She knelt in front of him, took his other hand. "You went through the Mother's Hills. You met some of the witches there."

  Aiden closed his eyes. His fingers curled tightly around Ashk's hand. "Not like her."

  They all waited, no longer impatient for news.

  Finally, Ashk asked softly, "What happened to Dianna?"

  Aiden made a sound that might have been a bitter laugh. "Oh. Well. Dianna. She refused to accept a half-breed witch as her successor, despite it being clear that Selena was so much more powerful than Dianna could ever dream of being. Everything was fine until Dianna challenged Selena after Selena ascended and became the Lady of the Moon. It. . . provoked. . . the new Huntress into showing the Fae who now rules them." He opened his eyes and looked at Ashk. "She summoned a storm. She summoned fire. And when her horse tried to get through the wall of fire to reach her, she created a bridge out of moonlight for him."

  "Mother's mercy," Ashk said, sinkin
g back on her heels.

  "Were the other Ladies of the Moon harmed?" Gwynith. Why hadn't she heard from Gwynith?

  "I don't think so. The bards who were witnesses at the clearing sent out the news as fast as they could, and I don't think they conveyed everything they knew."

  "If she wants to see you, where are you supposed to meet her?" Lyrra asked worriedly.

  "I don't know. I know where the Ladies had gathered, but I don't know if the Huntress remained with the Clan connected to that Old Place."

  "Can it wait a few more days?" Ashk asked. "I still have to ride to the southern part of the Mother's Hills to give Padrick's letters to the barons who live near there. I was going to go on to Willowsbrook from there, but if it makes you easier, I'll go with you to meet the new Huntress." Ashk forced herself to smile. "And I admit to being curious about her other form."

  "Shadow hound," Aiden whispered. "She's a shadow hound."

  Ashk's smile faded. Being one herself, she knew better than the rest of them how dangerous that form could be. "Then let's hope the Lightbringer and the Huntress don't cross paths anytime soon. We can't afford to have Lucian do something that would turn the Huntress against the Fae." She gently pulled her hand out of Aiden's and stood up. "We should retire now. I want to get an early start in the morning. I'd like to reach Willowsbrook before the full moon, which means we have a lot of traveling to do. Bard, I'll have one of my men inform the bards of your direction. It will make it easier to find you if there are other messages."

  Aiden nodded, getting to his feet slowly.

  Ashk led them into the Clan house and saw them all to their rooms before slipping into Morag's room to check on her. Satisfied that Morag would get a good night's rest, she went to her own room and stared out the window for a long time.

  A Daughter of the House of Gaian as the Lady of the Moon. A shadow hound as the Huntress.

  Great Mother, let me hear from Gwynith soon. She'll tell me more of what I need to know than all the bards put together. Because Selena will either be a very good friend for the battles ahead. . . or a very dangerous enemy.