Pillars of the World

by Anne Bishop

  Smiling, Neall took her hand. When she didn’t pull away, he leaned back against the cottage and closed his eyes, content.

  The bargaining had been fierce, and it had taken every ounce of persuasion he’d had to convince Ahern that he could only take so much for one fish without Ari starting to wonder if it was a fair barter or charity. Mentioning charity had made Ahern so angry Neall had thought the old man would strike him. But they both knew Ari, they both knew she could be stubborn to the point of being foolish, and they both knew her pride was the only thing that made it possible for her to face the people of Ridgeley. And bruising pride with too much kindness wasn’t kindness at all. So they haggled and argued until Neall had promised to bring another salmon or two in a few days and pick up the rest of the supplies Ahern insisted Ari should have.

  “Will the baron be angry about your ignoring your work?” Ari asked. “Will he wonder where you are?”

  “He doesn’t give a damn where I am. He never has unless he wants something. As for the work, let Royce take care of it. After all, the estate and all the tenant farms will be his one day.”

  He felt her turn to face him. He kept his eyes closed.

  “What will you do when that day comes, Neall?” Ari asked quietly. “Will you work for Royce and take what handouts he chooses to give?”

  Neall hesitated, then thought, Plant the seed now. Give it time to take root. “I have some land of my own. It’s in the west, about a day’s ride from the coast. It belonged to my mother. When my parents died, it came to me. Now that I’ve reached my majority, it’s time for me to go home.”

  That shook her enough to make her hand tremble in his.

  “Why —” Ari drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Why have you never said anything about this?”

  “Because my gentry relatives are greedy. The baron would have made my life even more miserable if he’d known there was something that belonged to me that he couldn’t use while I was under his roof. Besides, I don’t own the land in that way.” He paused. “I did tell your grandmother about the land. She told me it would be a secret between us until I was ready to share it with someone else. That she thought I was wise not to tell anyone was the main reason I’ve been able to keep it a secret for so long.”

  “And now you’ve told me,” Ari said softly. “Thank you.”

  He opened his eyes and looked at her. She seemed to be working hard to remain calm, and that gave him hope. “I wanted you to know there was land waiting to be cherished again, that there was a place to go.”

  “The anniversary of your birthing day was weeks ago. You should have left then so that you’d have time to put in your own crops.”

  “I had reason to stay.”

  She pressed her lips together. “When are you going?”

  “That depends on you.” He watched her eyes widen with shock. He gently squeezed her hand. “If you know in your heart that you will never think of me as anything more than a friend, I hope you’ll be honest enough to tell me — and I’ll go alone. But if there’s a chance that you could care for me as a lover and a wife, I’ll wait for you, Ari.”

  “Neall …”

  He shook his head. “Don’t say anything now.”

  Ari looked at the meadow and the forest beyond. “I care for you, Neall. I do. But my family has looked after Brightwood for generations. It’s my duty to stay here.”

  “Perhaps it’s time for someone else to take care of Brightwood,” he said quietly. “Perhaps it’s time to make a new life somewhere else. Think about it, Ari. Please.”

  Releasing her hand, he stood up. “I need to get back now. Can I help you with anything before I go?”

  Ari shook her head.

  “Then I’d better stir my four-legged friend and convince him it’s time to leave.” He took a few steps toward the part of the meadow where the gelding was grazing before Ari called him back.

  She was wringing her hands and looked so distressed he regretted that he had spoiled her peace.

  “Neall … Even if I could leave Brightwood, it’s not our way to marry.”

  “Sometimes it is,” he said hurriedly. “My mother married my father, and they were happy.” When she looked puzzled, he thought, I hadn’t meant to say that, hadn’t intended to tell her — at least, not yet — but now I have to tell her all of it. One way or the other, it might make the difference in the answer. “My mother’s branch was earth. There was nothing she touched that wouldn’t grow.”

  Ari stared at him. “Your mother was a witch?”

  “Yes. And my father was half Fae.” There was bitterness in his smile. “From things the baron has said, I gather the family had been embarrassed to have to acknowledge a child sired by one of the Fae. So they had been quite willing to forget about my father when he came of age and headed west to make his own fortune. The only thing they knew about my mother was that my father had married her.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I don’t want any secrets between us. Because I want you to know who I came from.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “And now I’ll go. Blessings of the day to you, Ari.”

  “Blessings of the day to you, Neall,” she whispered.

  All the way back to the baron’s estate, he wondered if he’d done the right thing, if he should have waited to tell her about his parents and the land. Since he couldn’t take back the words, he hoped he’d made the right choice.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Something has to be done,” Dianna said, pacing the length of the terrace that overlooked her favorite garden.

  “What can be done?” Lyrra asked. “The new moon has begun its journey — and Lucian hasn’t gone down the road through the Veil since the day he returned early.”

  “Has he said anything to Aiden about why he returned early that night?”

  Lyrra shook her head. “He’s still brooding, and there’s a look in his eyes that helps one remember that he’s the Lord of Fire.”

  “We can’t just sit here.” Dianna stopped pacing and squared her shoulders. “There’s one way to find out if Ari has become an enemy.”

  Lyrra paled a little. “You’re going down to the cottage?”

  “She doesn’t know I’m Fae. I can pay a visit without arousing suspicion.”

  “Be careful, Dianna.”

  “With Tir Alainn at stake, you can rest assured that I’ll be careful.”

  Returning to her suite, Dianna pulled the riding habit from the wardrobe. She paused, considered. If that male who had shown up at Ari’s the last time she had visited had been speaking the truth, she could save herself the trouble of riding sidesaddle. And it wasn’t as if she was intending to go riding where the human gentry would see her.

  She dropped the riding habit on her bed and chose one of her usual riding outfits — a skirt as light as cobwebs that buttoned over slim trousers and a simple blouse made of fine linen. That would do quite well.

  A few minutes later, as she was heading for the stables, she heard a quiet whine.

  The bitch that used to be her favorite approached hesitantly, the dark eyes pleading to be forgiven for whatever it had done that had made its mistress turn away from it. Beside the bitch were the three pups, the two that showed no outward trace of the undesirable sire and the third, which she couldn’t bear to look at.

  She turned away, then turned back and snatched the third puppy. It cried as if it knew the person holding it despised its existence.

  The bitch whined.

  “It will be well taken care of,” Dianna said. She hurried to the stables before she had too much time to think … and change her mind.

  Wanting to avoid Ahern’s farm for this visit, and gambling that Ari didn’t know horses well enough to be alarmed at seeing a “gentry” lady riding a Fae horse, she had the grooms saddle her pale mare. The pup was wrapped in a piece of blanket so that it couldn’t squirm around. With one arm holding the pup, Dianna cantered down the road that led thr
ough the Veil.

  Reaching Brightwood, she followed the forest trails until she came to the road and was riding toward Ari’s cottage from the same direction she’d come before.

  Ari, naturally, was working in the garden.

  “Dianna,” Ari said, surprise and pleasure in her voice.

  She didn’t expect me to return after I learned she was a witch.

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

  “Blessings of the day to you,” Dianna replied, choking a little on speaking a witch’s greeting. They think you’re the Queen of the Witches. Speaking their words won’t set your tongue on fire.

  “I see you’ve forsaken gentry fashion for practicality,” Ari teased.

  Dismounting easily, Dianna gave Ari a cool stare. “I would prefer to be thought a peasant than deal with an insolent man.”

  “Oh.” Ari seemed to be working through several replies, but ended up shrugging. “Neall can be opinionated at times.”

  Neall. A name spoken with easy familiarity. “Do you know him well?”

  “We’re friends.”

  You say that as if you’re not quite sure. I wonder if Lucian was aware he had a rival.

  The puppy squirmed. “What’s that?” Ari asked.

  “Something I brought for you.” Dianna unwrapped the puppy and held it out.

  Her eyes lighting, Ari reached for the puppy and held him up so that they were nose to nose. “You’re adorable.”

  The puppy licked her nose, making her laugh.

  Ari’s delight made Dianna smile. “He seems to think the same about you.”

  Cradling the puppy, Ari said, “He’s wonderful, Dianna, but I can’t accept him. He’s obviously a valuable animal, and —”

  Dianna waved her hand dismissively. “He has no value. He’s deformed.” Seeing Ari’s stricken look and the way her arms tightened protectively around the puppy, Dianna bit her tongue. What use was it to give something and then say it had no value? “You’re correct that the bitch is a valuable animal, but the quality of the sire is … suspect. The coloring is wrong.”

  Ari looked down at the puppy. “Wrong? But he has a beautiful merle coat.”

  Dianna bit her tongue again to keep from saying something else that would make the pup completely worthless — or saying something that would clearly tell Ari that the pup had come from a shadow hound. “Yes, it is, but the breeder is very particular about coloring. So the pup has no worth for the breeder. But there’s nothing wrong with him, and I thought he would have a good home with you.”

  There was still hesitation there. Dianna choked back frustration. The girl obviously liked the puppy. Why couldn’t she just accept it?

  “I — I suppose he eats meat.”

  “He’s a dog. Of course he eats —” Dianna stopped, suddenly remembering that Ari hadn’t offered any meat with the meal she’d prepared the last time Dianna visited. “Don’t you eat meat?”

  “Yes, I do — when I can afford it.”

  Dianna looked away. With every turn, there was another obstacle.

  Ari caressed the puppy. “We’ll find a way.”

  Dianna narrowed her eyes as she looked at the forest. “Don’t you hunt?”

  Ari smiled ruefully. “Neall taught me how to shoot a bow, and I can hit the bulls-eye in a target, but I can’t hit anything when it stands there and looks at me.”

  Neall again. Maybe this Neall could make himself useful and provide some meat.

  “Thank you, Dianna. The puppy will be a good friend.”

  Uncomfortable, despite the fact that Ari’s gratitude was exactly what she’d hoped to achieve when she’d brought the pup, Dianna turned away, then stopped when she noticed the bare cottage wall. “The flowers didn’t bloom?”

  “Bloom?” Ari laughed. “The seeds have all sprouted and the plants are growing well, but they don’t grow that quickly. They’ll have flowers by the Solstice.”

  Solstice? That long? In Tir Alainn, the plants would already be in full bloom. Diana studied the vegetable garden. Small green things covered the ground between the paths of flat stones, but there was nothing ready for the table. “How long do you have to wait?”

  “Harvest will begin in a couple of months.”

  Dianna didn’t know what to say. “Are you still planting?”

  “No, the planting is done. I was doing a bit of weeding and watering before the day got too warm.”

  “I’ll help you.” Catching Ari’s apprehensive look, she added with prickly arrogance, “I may not be able to plant, but surely I’m capable enough to pour water.”

  Ari tipped her head, her expression thoughtful. “Why do you want to help?”

  “Because I can’t work in a garden at home,” she replied without thinking.

  “You’re troubled, aren’t you?”

  About many things I cannot speak of. Not to you. “I have some concerns.”

  Ari nodded. “Working in the earth doesn’t provide solutions to problems, but it can ease the heart. The clothes you wore the last time are in the trunk in the dressing room.”

  Dianna smiled. “I’ll find them.”

  “I’ll look after the mare …” Ari’s eyes widened when she finally took a good look at the pale mare.

  Dianna tensed. Could Fae magic cloud a witch’s mind?

  “You should meet old Ahern someday,” Ari said. “He has beautiful horses, too.”

  “We’re acquainted,” Dianna said tersely.

  “Oh dear. Did he admire the mare too much or too little?” When Dianna didn’t answer, Ari added, “I just wondered because he has a gray stallion that he might have wanted to mate with your mare.”

  Dianna choked. No. The girl couldn’t know the gray stallion was the Lord of the Horse in his other form. Although … There were some unsavory legends that said such matings were how the Fae horses had been created in the first place.

  “I’ll change my clothes,” Dianna said. Leaving Ari to deal with puppy and mare, she hurried to the kitchen door.

  “Go in and be welcome,” Ari called.

  That constant welcoming must be a witch custom, Dianna decided. Did it have to be said every time a person visiting walked out of the cottage and wanted to go back in? It must be a tedious custom if that were true. She’d have to ask. It wouldn’t seem strange to ask since she knew Ari was a witch. And the Fae needed to know as much as they could.

  There was only one trunk in the dressing room, and the tunic and trousers, washed and neatly folded, were lying on top of the other garments. Taking the clothes, Dianna closed the trunk and looked around. One side of the room contained a wooden chest with drawers as well as two staggered rows of pegs that she suspected held all the clothes Ari owned. The other side of the room contained a small desk, a threadbare chair that, nonetheless, looked comfortable, and a table with an oil lamp. It also contained a bookcase with leaded glass doors.

  The bookcase was the finest piece of furniture in the cottage, speaking of a time when Ari’s family must have had more wealth than was apparent now. Peering through the glass, Dianna frowned. The books inside didn’t look impressive. All about the same size and thickness, they were bound in leather and reminded her more of the journals she’d heard gentry women were fond of keeping than tomes that had any value. Opening the bookcase, she took out the last book and opened it to the first page.

  I am Astra, now the Crone of the family. It is with sorrow that I have read the journals of the ones who came before me. We shouldered the burden and then were dismissed from thought — or were treated as paupers who should beg for scraps of affection. We have stayed because we loved the land, and we have stayed out of duty. But duty is a cold bedfellow, and it should no longer be enough to hold us to the land. I don’t think my daughter will listen, but I hope I can find the words to tell Ari —

  “What are you doing?”

  Dianna jumped, surprised by Ari’s sudden appearance as well as the anger in the girl’s voice. “I saw the books and wanted
to look —”

  “Those are my family’s private journals. They weren’t written as entertainment for the gentry.”

  “I —”

  Words of apology and explanation died when Ari snatched the journal from Dianna’s hands, carefully replaced it in the bookcase, and closed the leaded glass door. Keeping her back to Dianna, she said, “Even a friend should respect privacy.”

  “I meant no harm, Ari. Truly. I thought they were just books, and I was curious.” Dianna paused, wondering how badly her next question would offend. “Have you read them?”

  Ari shook her head. “Only the crone has the age and the experience to read them, and she is the one who records the next chapter in our history.” She turned to face Dianna. “I am in no hurry to read them. I think they have some awful tales to tell.”

  “What could be so awful?”

  “I don’t know. But the year my grandmother’s body declared her fully a crone, she read the journals over the winter. My mother and I watched her grow old during that time, as if a heavy burden weighed on her heart. She didn’t live to see another winter. So I’m in no hurry to find out what bent a strong woman until she broke.”

  “I’m sorry.” She looked at the tunic and trousers, and felt a pang of regret that she wouldn’t feel the earth beneath her hands. “Perhaps it would be better if I didn’t stay today,” she said, hoping Ari would politely disagree.

  “I think that would be for the best.”

  Dianna walked to the doorway, then looked over her shoulder. “I meant no harm. I hope we can be friends again on another day.” When your anger has faded — or you become lonely enough to overlook what was, after all, a mistake.

  “On another day,” Ari agreed.

  The mare was still saddled. A bucket of water stood nearby, still cool to the touch. Ari must have drawn the water from the well and then realized she had sent a stranger into the room that held what her family prized the most.

  When Dianna mounted, the puppy yapped at her as if he knew he no longer needed to fear what she thought of him.

  I hope I did at least that much right, Dianna thought as she took the long way around to reach the shining road through the Veil. And I hope she will greet me as a friend on another day — not just because we need to understand her kind, but also because I like her.