Shae stationed himself just inside the door. He was determined that no disturbances or interruptions would cause a problem for what Gwynn was attempting. His ears caught approaching footsteps over the music sometime later.
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He opened the door noiselessly while Darion raised his hand to the latch. Elisan was standing beside him.
Darion smiled. “I see Gwynn has already begun. She is not one to wait for the presence or approval of others if she believes that she can act.”
“Something that can be either miraculous or disastrous,” Elisan said, shaking his head. “I fear for the child, sometimes.”
“As do we all,” Darion’s voice was soft when he looked at Shae’s vambraces, “but I believe fitan has provided a solution to that.”
Elisan and Darion elected to stay. The Pathani master sat down near Gwynn and Gryffyn, ready to lend the bard any assistance that he could. Darion remained near the doorway with Shae.
While the music grew in intricacy, those watching witnessed expression and awareness begin to return to Gryffyn’s face. Gwynn hesitated only a moment when she realized she would have to lay bare every secret of her father’s mind and heart. She knew it was probably an intrusion that no one should ever make, but unless she knew everything about him and could give it back to him, she would not be able to bring him home. Living someone else’s life, with its attendant joy and grief, was a frightening experience. She felt herself run the full gamut of emotion while she reflected Gryffyn’s life back at him.
Some things she knew already; music had driven her father from birth like it had her, and she had inherited his razor wit and his easily touched heart. Gryffyn’s memories of the many places he had seen sent a pulse of envy through her, but she quickly tossed it aside, savoring only the experience of seeing things she had yet to experience for herself. Learning that he adored Vivienne with all the passion of youth and the unexpected delight when his 240
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daughter was born brought an understanding of the man beyond the person she called father. She thrilled to learn of his pride in her and his hopes for her future. His grief at Vivienne’s early death shadowed him, but Gwynn realized that while he cared for her, the two were never soul mates.
Her fingers faltered for a moment when she realized that her father had later found his soul mate, a woman named Asheri, both shiel and poet whose works had touched him long before they had ever met. When their paths crossed, the instant intensity of their feelings for each other frightened and fascinated them both. The questions Gwynn had once asked Shae about why love consumed so much energy on the part of bards, poets, and artists were answered more fully than she could have imagined. Gryffyn had been making his way to Inishmore, intending to bring Gwynn to Samhayne, when the Aeldive had taken him. Her own shriek of desolation rang in her ears when Gwynn realized her fingers had gone still on the Harp strings.
Shae was already at her side, having dashed across the room before Elisan or Darion moved. “Gwynn, what is it?”
he asked kneeling next to her chair. She was unable to answer straight away; she was too overcome by the dreadful perversity of fate. He filled a cup with some wine and put it in her trembling hand, wrapping her fingers around it.
“Drink and then you can tell us what is wrong.”
Gwynn gulped the wine and began to explain what she had learned in a low voice. Devastated, though she was, her training had been so thorough, her listeners were drawn into her dramatic tale and forgot the man who was its subject sat in the room with them. She searched every language she knew to find words to express how she was tormented by Gryffyn’s vision of a ravishing almost inhumanly beautiful woman weeping bitter tears at his departure or that his fervent promises of returning were sounding over and over 241
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in her ears. “Can you imagine how awful it must have been for her? My father rode off for Inishmore, and Asheri never heard of him again. At least, he doesn’t know how much time has passed or what happened, but what of her? What if she couldn’t bear it when he didn’t return and did something to herself? What—” Gwynn’s voice caught when her throat tightened.
“The shiel Asheri is alive, if you can call it such,” Shae told her. “All of Samhayne knows her tale. She’s a mad hermit, but she still writes poems. I have heard them described as works of exquisite agony.”
“How could they not be?” Elisan’s voice was ragged.
“Mortals experience fearfully brief lives and to have what you describe taken from her…I cannot allow myself to imagine how she has suffered.”
“What are you going to do now?” Darion asked.
“I don’t know,” Gwynn sighed, staring at Gryffyn.
Her father’s expression was no longer unseeing; he instead looked deep in thought, such that merely speaking his name would bring him to full awareness. “I can bring him back, but at what cost? From what I can tell, the Aeldive had him in her clutches for years. I don’t know what I would do if I suddenly woke up one day to realize I had lost years of my life. If Asheri is irretrievably mad, seeing her and learning what has happened will destroy my father, too.” She shook her head, trying to decide the right path; if only there were some way to prevent it entirely. Her studies with Elisan had taught her about the magic contained in music, things long forgotten even by bards, and she dove deep within that pool of knowledge searching for an answer. There is a way, she realized, her eyes lighting up. It is unusual, but it would be a perfect resolution. “No, I won’t let either of them suffer that, as there is something I can do. I know where my father was when the Aeldive took him. Can you take me to the rel ar 242
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nearest that place Darion?”
“Easily enough. What are you thinking?”
“Bards of Inishmore have sung the seasons around before. Why can I not sing the seasons backward? I can take my father back to the place from where Aere snatched him and sing the seasons back to the right time. Then, I can let him continue on his way as if there had been no interruption by her.” There was a stunned silence while the enormity of what Gwynn was proposing to do sank slowly into the minds of the other three.
Elisan spoke first, his voice stern. “You may not so alter fitan.”
“Every action we take in our lives alters our fates in some way,” she declared. “Why is this any different?”
“Because you are attempting to change something that has already taken place. Time is the domain of the gods.
You cannot interfere with it.” The Pathani master spoke with an exaggerated patience, and Gwynn had the feeling he expected her to resume her role of his pupil without question.
“According to whom?” Her eyes flashed with indignation. She rose to her feet and stood in front of Elisan, seeming improbably tall and commanding while she confronted him. “Did the Mother herself tell you? Or did you decide what was right? It has been done by both the Pathani and Bards of Inishmore before!”
“But not to the extent you are considering,” Elisan protested. “It would change things in ways you cannot begin to imagine. Who knows what far-reaching effects it could have? It might change your own life in ways you would not choose.”
“That is a risk I am willing to take,” Gwynn said firmly. “My father’s happiness is worth any cost to me.”
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“Do you have the right to decide for another’s life what risks they are taking?” Elisan asked softly.
Gwynn dismissed Elisan’s concern with a wave of her hand. “I know my father, and I know what is important to him. I must offer him the chance to go on with his life as it should have been. Does a general ask his soldiers what risks they take when he plans a battle? Or does he make the best decision he can, based on what he knows of strategy and his army’s abilities?” Gwynn waited for Elisan’s answer, but he didn’t respond except to shake his head in disapproval. She turned to Shae and Darion, her eyes still
ablaze from the disagreement with Elisan. “Well? What arguments do you two have?”
“I have several reservations about your plan,” Darion said, “but as always, I find it impossible to deny you anything you wish, Gwynn. I would be willing to guide you to the place you seek.”
“And you?” Gwynn asked, looking at Shae.
His voice was thoughtful. “I think you are making a quick decision about taking an action so extreme that you cannot begin to fathom what the effects will be for you or anyone else. I could wish that you took more time to arrive at your conclusion or think it through, although I’m not surprised that you haven’t.”
“Shae, you—” she burst out, thinking her friend was offering judgment against her actions.
“But,” Shae silenced Gwynn with a look, “if I were in the same position and it was within my power, I would do the same thing. We Southrons stay out of the affairs of the gods, and we expect them to do the same for us. If they change the rules, then so will we.”
Gwynn subsided, relieved that her two closest friends agreed with her decision. She smiled sweetly at Elisan, who was still glowering. “You have been out voted, good Master.
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Contrary to what you might think, I do understand that the effects of what I am about to do could have consequences that I cannot begin to dream about. I will also defend to the death the right of my father to live his life as he chooses and not to have some selfish, spoiled immortal snatch those choices from him. The ability to repair that error has been granted to me, and I will do all that I can with it. Who can know that this was not our fitan to begin with? Why else would I have been granted the gifts I have been given? Why else would I have been brought to this place?”
“I cannot and will not agree to your actions, no matter what seemingly good reasons you offer for them,” Elisan said heavily. “I will make my feelings clear to the Ard Rhi and the Ard Rhian on the subject.” Elisan left abruptly and Gwynn was certain that Navarre and Mariel would shortly hear of her plans.
“Darion, do you think your parents will forbid me to try this or you to help me?” She knew she had already defied the daughter of a goddess, so the thought of defying the Pathani monarchs did not instill any fear in her. However, she wasn’t certain that Darion would be so ready to flout their authority.
“Under the circumstances, it is very possible, at least, they would forbid me to show you the way out of Heralith, especially if you have your father with you. I really don’t wish for us to face that situation. As a son, I might disobey my parents, but as their subject, I dare not. There is only one way around that difficulty.”
“And that is?” She asked, although she had a suspicion she already knew the answer.
“Leave now, before any royal commands can come our way.” The wicked grin on Darion’s face told Gwynn exactly how he felt about things. “I will take Gryffyn with me to the stables and order our mounts made ready. Go 245
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fetch what you will need for the ride and meet me there as quickly as you can. Fortunately, with little understanding of mortal impatience, it will not occur to Elisan that you will do something at this moment, so we have a bit of time. Not much though, I fear; it may bother him enough to seek my parents now.”
Shae did not have to be told twice. He was at the door before Darion finished. “Come along Gwynn; let’s see how quickly a vain bard can get into her riding leathers.”
Shae opened the door a crack to make certain no one was in the hallway and nodded to Gwynn who put her father’s harp across his back. Darion then placed Gryffyn’s hand on his arm, instructing him to come along quickly and quietly. He let them out, watched them around the first turn in the corridor, and then beckoned Gwynn to the door. She tried to imitate his rapid silent strides, but since she took two to every one of Shae’s, she was breathless with the effort and would have fallen far behind him had it not been for his firm grip on her upper arm. They made ready quickly, Gwynn slinging her saddlebags over her shoulder at the same moment Shae did, and as one, they reached for their bedrolls and bows.
“We’ll leave through the garden,” Shae suggested when his fingers closed around his bow; “I think it’s less likely that we will be noticed that way.” A quick glance before opening the door showed him the garden was empty.
Whether someone was watching from one of the many rooms overlooking it was a question he could not answer, but it was better than walking through the halls of the palace with both armed and dressed for travel. “Don’t run,” he ordered when she started to scamper across the terrace. “If someone sees us hurrying through the garden, they are more likely to think something is amiss or be more likely to report it.”
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“Yes, venchar.” Gwynn slowed her pace accordingly, realizing that he probably knew much more about this kind of thing than she did.
Darion was waiting for them inside the stables, holding Freesa and another horse bearing Gryffyn, his rirani across his back. For once, the Pathani horses were wearing saddles and bridles, although Gwynn noticed that the bridles had no bits; the reins were attached to the nosebands.
Gunnar stood just beyond them, holding Rogue and Talon, while Tasarian tightened Rogue’s girth. They secured their things, Shae strapping his long sword to the off side of his saddle before Gunnar turned over the horses’ reins.
“Now, both of you go about your business,” Darion commanded them. “I want you to be able to answer honestly that you did not see us leave if you are questioned.”
“As you wish, mir Rhi,” Tasarian assented and slipped out. Gunnar hesitated, asking, “Are you certain you don’t wish me to come with you?”
“Not now. It is one thing for royal wrath to fall on me; it is another for it to fall on you. Once my father’s initial anger passes, fetch whatever things Shae and Gwynn have had to leave behind and follow us. I do not wish them to have to weather the storm that will be waiting for me when I return. Oh, and there is something else I need you to bring for me.” Darion beckoned the captain closer and gave him an instruction so quietly that Gwynn’s sharp ears could not catch it.
“As you wish, mir Rhi.” Gunnar looked surprised at Darion’s request, but repeated Tasarian’s words, putting his fist over his heart in salute. “Where should I look to find you when I am able?”
“Yes, I suppose that is information we all need.
Where are we going Gwynn?”
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“The rel ar nearest the southern Merton hills and then east toward the Dinar,” Gwynn told him.
“I know the place,” Gunnar said smiling, “Tasarian and my sister were married there. Safe journey to you all.”
Gunnar saluted once more and marched out of the stables.
When the captain disappeared, Darion led them in the opposite direction, leaving the stables through a small arched postern gate and onto a steep side street off the main road to the palace.
“Since we have to ride quickly, will my father be all right?” Gwynn asked while Shae gave her a leg up.
“No Pathani horse will let their rider fall. Balaan is one of Gunnar’s own mounts. Rest assured, Gwynn, no harm shall come to him,” Darion promised, springing onto Freesa’s back. “Stay close to me; we are taking a different route out of the city than you are familiar with.” Darion led them hastily through a series of side streets and alleys. Within a few quick turns, Gwynn was hopelessly lost, but as they passed out of the city, she realized they were leaving from the south, not from the north as they had arrived. When she questioned him, he explained. “There are many ways into Heralith; I am taking us to a gate that will allow me to get us into the Merton Hills. Be warned though, it will be harder than your original journey. We will have to move much more quickly through the gates than we did when we arrived, so we cannot be interfered with.”
Gwynn spoke for the two of them. “It does not matter. We will bear what we must;
I don’t want us to be stopped.”
Darion pointed to a wooded area a league or so to the south. “We are heading there. Once into the woods, we will not be obvious as we seek the gate. It is still early; few are yet on the roads, which is in our favor. Ride hard, and hopefully, none will think that it is anything more than their 248
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Rhi challenging his mortal friends to a race.” They urged their horses into a gal op, Talon and Rogue trying valiantly to keep pace with the fleet footed Pathani mounts. Gwynn was glad to see that Darion’s promise was true; Gryffyn sat like a stone on Balaan’s back with no indication of an unsteady seat. Once they reached the woods, they slowed their pace to a trot in order to make their way through the trees safely. It wasn’t long before they struck a narrow track heading east toward the mountains that surrounded Heralith. Once more, the foursome increased their gait, the horses settling into a ground-eating gallop.
Shae was concerned for Rogue and Talon because of the hard riding they had seen the day before, but neither of them seemed taxed. Then, he realized Gwynn was humming a tune almost under her breath. The little air was sprightly and imitated the horses’ motion, impelling them forward.
Shae laughed inwardly, mocking himself and his anti-magic upbringing. Such a use of magic would have once bothered him. Now, he was merely grateful that it eased the strain on their horses while they made their escape. Perhaps, part of becoming perfect was shaking off old beliefs and traditions for new ones, he thought cynically.
In less than a quarter of an hour, they halted at the foot of the mountains. Gwynn looked closely at the rock face, trying to discern what told Darion this was the right place. She couldn’t see anything, but she could feel the faint shimmer of power that was emanating from a spot on the granite. While Darion spoke no words as he placed his hands against the stone, she heard the change in the tones of magic.
Gwynn memorized it, wondering if it was something that would only work for a Pathani or if she would be able to duplicate the effect.
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