The House of Gaian ta-3

by Anne Bishop

  "The Fae aren't the only ones who walk away from their children," Selena said flatly.

  He gave her a measuring look. "No, they're not. And that's not right, whether they're human or Fae. But you asked about the Fae, so I've told you how it is." He rubbed the back of his neck. "And to be fair, we don't see much of them, and there were a handful of Ladies who rode up the other day to pay their respects. They gave Ella some gifts as thanks for letting them gather in the Old Place. Ella said they seemed . . . embarrassed . . . by the way the other Fae were acting."

  As Parker reached the barn door, a high, young voice behind them said, "Papa?"

  Chad turned. "Yes, Hayley-girl?"

  "Mama wants to know if you're going to keep our guests in the barn all day. She says the food's ready for the table, and Gran's gone back to her cottage to fetch Grandpapa to come eat with us, and the Ladies might like to wash up a bit before we eat."

  Chad grinned. "She said all that, did she?"

  "She said more, but she told me to fetch you." Hayley looked disapprovingly at her brother. "And Parker has to wash his hands before he touches the bread. He's dirty."

  "Am not," Parker said.

  "Are too."

  "We'll all go in and wash up before we sit at your mother's table," Chad said firmly.

  Rhyann slipped her arm through Selena's as they followed Chad and the children back to the cottage. "Younger sisters," she said sweetly. "Aren't they wonderful?"

  "Phuuu," Selena said.

  Dianna gazed hungrily at the beautiful gardens and terraces she could see from her window in the Clan house. She took a deep breath and let it out in a luxurious sigh.

  She was back in Tir Alainn. Finally, she was back in Tir Alainn after all those weeks of being chained to Brightwood in order to anchor her Clan's piece of the Fair Land, living in that miserable cottage crammed with other Fae, hearing the muttered complaints about where she rode her pale mare, what she ate, where she sat, as if she hadn't been forced to give up everything for their sake. And now there was a challenge to her position as the Lady of the Moon.

  She wouldn't have been challenged if she hadn't been chained to Brightwood, if she'd still been free to travel through Tir Alainn and visit the other Clans the same way her twin, Lucian, could do.

  Well, it wasn't going to happen. She would meet the challenger and show that upstart she was still the Lady of the Moon, still the Huntress. And after her rival yielded, she would spare the bitch's life in exchange for a small service. Her rival would have to return with her to Brightwood and become the anchor for the Old Place's magic. Her rival would have to live in that cottage and listen to the complaints. Her rival could spend sleepless nights looking out on land that demanded sweat and hard work. Her rival would live in the human worlds—and she would be free to return to Tir Alainn.

  Dianna turned away from the window to stare blindly at the tastefully decorated room.

  No smells from a chamberpot. No stains on the bedcovers. No chipped vases or cracked mirrors.

  If she lost this challenge . . . if her rival was actually strong enough to ascend and steal her place as the Lady of the Moon. . .

  She would end up back in Brightwood, back in that cottage, trapped forever as the seasons changed, summer giving way to autumn and autumn yielding to unforgiving winter. Even the thought of having to spend a whole winter in the human world was more than she could bear.

  Lyrra did it last year. They aren't even her Clan or kin, but she stayed in the cottage with the cold and the winds driving in storms from the sea.

  That was Lyrra, whose refusal to accommodate the Lady of the Moon and remain at Brightwood had forced that duty on her.

  No matter. She might even forgive the Muse someday—once her rival was settled into that cottage at Brightwood.

  So she had to win. She had to. Because after she returned from the Old Place where the challenge would occur, she had no intention of leaving Tir Alainn.

  Selena felt Rhyann shift, pause, then roll over to face her.

  "Can't sleep?" Rhyann asked sleepily.

  "No," Selena replied. "Too many thoughts, too many feelings."

  "Mmm. You always think too much."

  "Did you notice how excited Ella and Mildred were about me standing with the Fae for this gathering?"

  "You're one of their own. Why shouldn't they be pleased?"

  "The way they fussed over the dress to make sure all the creases and wrinkles were out of it, you would think I was preparing for my wedding."

  "Oh," Rhyann said, yawning, "they wouldn't have fussed over you half as much if you were just getting married. Hundreds of women get married every year. But there's only one Lady of the Moon at any time."

  "Thank you for being so comforting."

  "Welcome," Rhyann mumbled.

  "Rhyann?"

  "Erf?"

  "What if I lose?" Selena made a noise that sounded terrifyingly like a laugh changing into a whimper. "Mother's mercy, what if I win?"

  "You get to be the Lady of the Moon."

  "I'll be expected to give orders to people I know almost nothing about."

  "That shouldn't bother you. You're always bossy."

  Selena just sighed. Nothing would be gained by pointing out that Rhyann could be equally bossy.

  When she thought her sister had fallen back asleep, Selena whispered, "I'm afraid I'll change."

  Rhyann stirred. Propped herself up on one elbow. "The moon waxes and wanes. The tides ebb and flow. The seasons turn, each in their own time. Ever changing, never changing. Of course you'll change. The dance of life spirals, remember? Even when you return to a point, you're not in the same place. The dance would have changed you, whether you'd come here or stayed home." She leaned over and kissed Selena's forehead before laying back down. "Don't worry. If you start to act too much like them, I'll still be nearby to help you remember who you are."

  Selena smiled in the dark, Rhyann's sleepy reassurance giving her more comfort than anything else could have.

  "Good night, little sister," she said softly, feeling love swell inside her.

  "Good night, mouse breath."

  Chapter 8

  new moon

  Aiden sat in the shade of one of the Clan's courtyards and plucked idle notes on the harp, letting his mind wander just as idly, drifting on the sound. He looked up when a boot quietly scuffed the paving stones.

  "Are you working on a new song?" Taihg asked. The Clan's bard looked ready to retreat if the Bard wanted privacy—and also looked hopeful that he could sit in the courtyard and listen to a song come into being.

  "No, just thinking," Aiden replied, smiling when he noticed the whistle tucked into Taihg's belt. "Why don't you sit down, and we'll see what two bards can do?"

  Taihg pulled the whistle from his belt and hurried over.

  For the first few minutes, harp and whistle played idle notes that twined around each other. Then Taihg slid into a gentle tune, and Aiden let the harp follow and fill in, absorbing the whole of the tune as easily as he breathed.

  When the song ended, Aiden stilled the harp strings. "You wrote that?"

  "Yes," Taihg said.

  "Did you write a harp accompaniment as well as the whistle melody?"

  "No, I think you just did that."

  They grinned at each other. Then Aiden looked away.

  He'd met Taihg a few weeks ago, when he and Lyrra had stopped at this Clan house while searching for the Hunter. He had threatened to strip the bard of the gift of music when the man refused to tell him what the western Clans knew about witches— and had been stunned when Taihg said he'd prefer to lose his gift rather than his home and Clan.

  If I'd been fool enough to strip him of his gift, the loss of his music would have been on my head.

  He'd backed down, and Taihg had yielded enough to send him and Lyrra to Ashk, Bretonwood's Lady of the Woods, And there they had found the Hunter, who was not what they had expected . . . and more terrifying than he could have imag
ined.

  Needing a rest from troubling thoughts, he gave his attention back to the music, and said, "Let's try it again to make sure it's set in the hands and the heart."

  They went through it twice more before Aiden nodded, satisfied. "Can you get the part for the harp written in with what you've got for the whistle?"

  "I-I haven't written anything down. It was just a little tune I—" Taihg swallowed hard as Aiden's blue eyes flashed with annoyance.

  "Write it down," Aiden said. "Lyrra will need the music to learn the whistle part."

  "Learn the— You actually want to play it outside of the Clan here?"

  You'd think I'd just asked him to jump off a cliff. Maybe I have. "Yes, I want to play it. I want it heard. I want other bards to take it up and send it on." He began plucking idle notes again. "And I do want you to go with me for part of the journey."

  "Me?" Taihg's voice rose close to a squeak. "Why?"

  "The Ladies of the Moon are gathering somewhere in the midlands," Aiden said quietly, "but there's something not quite . . . right. . . about this. Dianna's power isn't waning, no one has come forward as the challenger who wants to try to take her place as the Lady of the Moon, and this isn't the phase of the moon when these challenges take place."

  "There may not be a challenger, as such," Taihg said hesitantly.

  "Meaning?"

  "There's a saying in the west: The gift commands, and the gift chooses. That's why the Fae in the west haven't traveled to these gatherings much. It's really just a formality, a ritual so that the new leader can be acknowledged. If the gift chooses someone, that person will ascend no matter where he or she is."

  "If that's the case," Aiden said grimly, "let's hope whoever ascends is in that Old Place tonight."

  "Why?"

  Aiden set his harp aside and turned on the bench to look at Taihg. "If Dianna loses, we need to know who the new Huntress is. We need to know if she's going to be like Dianna and refuse to do anything to help in the fight against the Inquisitors or if, the Great Mother willing, we might have another ally in the fight that's coming. When we leave here in the morning, we'll have a few days before Ashk has to decide if we're heading for the southern end of the Mother's Hills or going straight to Willowsbrook. I want you to travel with us until we get word about who the new Lady of the Moon is. Then you'll come back to the west and make sure all the bards and minstrels have all the information we can glean about her."

  "Ashk will be getting that information, too, and she'll send word back to the west."

  "How the Hunter and the Bard interpret that information may not be the same. Ashk needs to consider it from the view of protecting Sylvalan. I'll consider it with the view of deciding whether or not the minstrels and bards will support the female leader of the Fae, whomever she might be."

  Taihg stared at him. "If you ridicule the Lady of the Moon in a song, the Clans won't have anything to do with you in fear of offending her."

  "Does that include the Clans in the west?"

  Taihg hesitated, then shook his head. "No. Unless, of course, the Hunter takes offense."

  "Then I've nothing to lose," Aiden replied. "The Clans beyond the west already disapprove of me."

  Before Taihg could reply, an annoyed male voice beyond the courtyard said, "Mother's tits! Considering how far I've traveled, I'm going to talk to someone."

  Aiden couldn't hear a reply, but a moment later, a man strode into the courtyard. He had sable hair that fell to his shoulders and dark eyes full of sharp intelligence;—and more than a little annoyance. A tall man, with a honed body that moved with sleek grace, yet gave the impression of suppressed violence, like the sea on the edge of a storm.

  The man was definitely Fae, but Aiden felt uneasy the moment he saw him. He rose to face the stranger.

  "Who are you?" the stranger demanded.

  "Aiden. The Lord of Song."

  "The Bard, is it? I'm Murtagh, the Lord of the Selkies. I was looking for the Hunter, but you'll do for now."

  "Will I?"

  Murtagh flashed a feral smile that made Aiden wish for a large knife and the skill to use it. He had the feeling Murtagh possessed both.

  "When you've the time, Bard, I'd appreciate it if you'd come by Selkie Island and give the minstrels there a bit of encouragement. We've a handful of them on the island, and there's not one of them that will lift his ass to fart let alone learn a new song. Don't any of you write anything new?"

  "Occasionally," Aiden said dryly.

  Murtagh eyed Taihg. "If you're too busy, you could send another bard."

  "I get seasick," Taihg said quickly.

  Murtagh sighed. "Well, see what you can do. I've been hearing the same songs since I was a boy. I'd throw the lot of them into the sea, but they're selkies, too, so it wouldn't gain me anything."

  "I'll keep it in mind," Aiden said, "but there are other concerns right now."

  "True enough." Murtagh raked a hand through his hair. "There's talk, Bard, and I don't like what I'm hearing."

  "What have you heard?"

  "That witches are being killed by men called Black Coats. That the Old Places are being taken over by humans, and the Small Folk are being driven out."

  "It's true."

  "Well. . . Mother's tits! Why aren't the Mother's Daughters going up the shining roads to escape and letting the Fae deal with the bastards?"

  "The Fae in the east of Sylvalan refused to do anything to help the witches—and now the Fae are lost as well, trapped in their Clan territories in Tir Alainn after the shining roads closed. If they're surviving at all."

  Murtagh stared at him. Then he swore softly. "If that's the case, they've gotten what they deserve."

  Aiden studied Murtagh with more interest. "Would you allow a witch into your Clan's piece of Tir Alainn?"

  Murtagh's dark eyes flashed with temper before he smiled ruefully. "My gran's a witch whose gift of water is best suited to the sea. She's fit and spry for a woman her age, but cold, damp weather is hard on old bones, so I bundle her and the other elders up every year when the autumn winds take on the edge of winter and tuck them in the Clan house in Tir Alainn. Not that she'll stay there. She misses the moods of the sea, so she'll come back down and spend a few days before she'll let me bundle her back up." He paused. "I've heard a young witch with a love of the sea has recently come to Sealand."

  "I've heard that, too," Aiden said cautiously.

  Murtagh shook his head. "I saw that ship pass. If I'd known there was a witch in the hold, I would have persuaded the captain to put in at one of our ports for a day or two."

  "The witch is content where she is," Ashk said, stepping into the courtyard with Morag beside her.

  Murtagh gave both women a long look and a small but courteous bow. "And I wouldn't have held her if she wasn't willing to stay. Just saying I would have liked an introduction before the lady decided on where to settle. We can offer as good a harbor as Ronat Isle."

  Ashk's eyes searched his. "You would have offered her family safe harbor?"

  "There's more of them?"

  Aiden winced, wishing Murtagh's question didn't sound like he was ready to scoop up any witch that crossed his path, especially when Morag said, "Answer the question," in a voice that held a hint of the grave.

  He saw Ashk shift her weight slightly and wondered what she thought she could do against the Gatherer if Morag decided to kill the Lord of the Selkies. Unfortunately, Morag had been withdrawn since they left Bretonwood, and not even Morphia had been able to discover why. But that dark turn of mood had made the rest of them cautious about dealing with the Gatherer of Souls.

  Finally, Murtagh said, "I would have offered her safe harbor—and anyone she cared to bring with her. And I'll offer it now to any witch looking for a place away from those bastard Black Coats and the Sylvalan barons who have lost their balls— or sold them in order to put more gold in their purses." He looked away for a moment before focusing on Ashk again. "You're the Hunter, aren't you?"r />
  "I am."

  "You're gathering the Fae to put a stop to the slaughter?"

  "Yes."

  Murtagh nodded. "The Hunter rules the woods. The Lord of the Selkies rules the sea. So. How can I and mine help you? Fae whose other form is suited to water are of little use to you on land, but we control the sea around our island, right to the shore of the mainland."

  "What do the barons on the coast say about that?" Aiden asked.

  Murtagh smiled sharply. "A few years ago, when I first became the Lord of the Selkies, one of the coastal barons came to the island. He wasn't pleased that our boats were fishing the same waters as his villagers since he got a share from every boat as well as what he made from his tenant farmers. Well, he came over and told me that since there was no baron ruling the island, he was taking it for his own. I explained to him that we didn't need a baron, and I would rule my own people. He didn't take kindly to that."

  "What did you do?" Ashk asked.

  "Sank his ship. We rescued the people on board, but it was close to a fortnight before the baron set foot on ground he could call his own, and he learned a few things about how a baron's power compares to that of a Fae Lord. He drowned a couple of years later. Wasn't my doing, but no one mourned his passing, especially once people found out he'd made a deal with the sea thieves who had been making things difficult for merchant ships. His son was barely old enough to take up the title, but he's done well for his people, and he and I have an understanding that suits us both. So if there are ships coming that need safe harbor, they'll have it." Murtagh paused. "And if there are ships that need to sleep at the bottom of the sea, and their crew with them, I'll see it done."

  No one spoke.