The Castle Of Hape. Caves Of Fire And Ice. The Joining Of The Stone

To rescue the stone in the citadel, she must have the mare. She could not escape without a winged one to carry her. Michennann must come, in spite of her reluctance. She pressed her back against the cold stone of the stairwell and brought the vision of Michennann around her sharply until she felt as if she herself stood in the far green field where Michennann grazed.

*

Michennann stood with dripping muzzle. She had been feeding on lilies in the water meadow. Now she looked southeast toward Carriol, held within her the sweep of Meatha’s whispering mind, urgent and irritating, then laid back her ears and shook her head, not liking the demanding summons.

She was a beautiful mare, the color of deep storm. Across one shoulder blazed a streak of white that ended beneath her dark mane. Her eyes were dark, the lashes silver against endless depths of darkness, her wings when she lifted them against the morning sky were silver, though they shadowed down to night where the feathers overlapped. She acknowledged Meatha’s presence with annoyance, examined deeply Meatha’s purpose; bowed her neck and tucked her head down in hard defiance. The girl’s quest had a darkness to it, a darkness Michennann wanted no part of, though she and Meatha were old friends. Friendship was one thing, this stealthy darkness quite another. What had changed Meatha? Or did she not see the dark that touched her?

Meatha scowled at the mare’s resistance. What was wrong with Michennann? She pressed harder still, then too late she realized her error, for the mare had drawn away from her completely and closed her mind with a stubborn will, her tail switching with anger.

Meatha drew back, too, and waited. She would not be put off. When the mare had calmed somewhat, she touched her mind more gently, carefully began to soothe Michennann, to calm her. Slowly she gentled and quieted her own driving force and washed away the tension, softened the tension between them until at last their minds could link in a smoother flow. She soothed the mare and soothed her, until after some moments Michennann relaxed satisfactorily; her ears went forward, she lifted one forefoot wet from the marsh meadow and gazed without fury into the southeastern sky.

Michennann held in suspension the last of her unease, the shadow of her reluctance. She let lie at bay the darkness that had now submerged itself beneath Meatha’s gentleness—but she would not forget it. She felt the danger in what Meatha was about, her fear unformed and nebulous but very real.

But she would follow Meatha. For the sake of something she could not put shape to, she knew she would follow her.

She turned to stare at the band of winged ones who stood silently at the other end of the meadow and spoke to them. They moved uneasily, but they did not reply. Michennann pushed back the unease, like rain-blindness, that shadowed her thoughts. She bowed her neck, and broke suddenly from a standstill into a gallop. She was skyborne in three strides, her neck stretched out, her dark nose cutting the wind.

*

In vision, Meatha Saw the mare lift skyward, and she turned away with satisfaction; though still she held a tight, gentle snare of power around Michennann, drawing her toward Carriol. She was aware once again of folk passing her on the stone stair. She let her blocking ease for a moment as her tension eased, turned to follow them, sharpening her blocking again at once.

It would not be easy to sit among others with her secret filling her and yet maintain the constant blocking needed to shut out master Seers. But the urgency of her mission seemed to give her power, and now she felt capable of anything.

Michennann would graze out on Fentress unnoticed until they could depart—until Alardded had departed for Pelli. Her timing must be perfect. Not too soon, not until Alardded was just on the verge of bringing up the drowned runestone. Too soon, and she could be discovered, Alardded alerted. She joined the meeting at last with reluctance, sat down near the entry, and looked over the heads of those in front to where the five master Seers sat circling the stone table. The runestone moved slightly in the sea breeze. She dared not look directly at it for fear her expression would give her away. Alardded and Bernaden had left a space between them, and a man stood respectfully behind the stone bench there, facing the five council Seers with obvious awe. A tall, pale man with a curiously small head and thin shoulders, larger in the trunk and hips, heavy legged—rather like a bag of grain with most of the grain run to the bottom. He was the reason for the meeting: a man brought to Carriol unexpectedly, a prisoner rescued from Kubal. He came from a land they had thought uninhabited, from the unknown lands inside the Ring of Fire. His voice was loud for such a weak-looking person. He answered Alardded’s questions simply, artlessly.