"Aye. Even then."

"She always knew if you'd done something wrong," Faelia said.

"And never hesitated to tell you," Griane added.

They were all smiling now. Relieved, he got to his feet.

"Callie, take the pot of cheese." Griane's voice was brisk. "Faelia, bring the skin of elderberry wine. I'll put some oatcakes on the fire before I check on the wounded. Urkiat . . ."

"I'll see if the men need any help with the fish traps."

Darak waited until they left. Even then he hesitated, watching Griane knead the melted dripping into the oats. She was the first to break the silence. "You asked about the boy?"

He nodded, relieved to postpone the discussion of his departure.

"Jurl and Rothisar roused the village before dawn. He'd stolen a coracle, but Nionik sent out search parties anyway. Jurl wasn't sure how he got free. He must have loosened the ropes somehow. Apparently, the boy taunted him. When Jurl went over to the tree to teach him to mind his tongue, the boy grabbed his ankle. He fell and hit his head on a rock."

"And Rothisar?"

"Slept through it all. They'd both been drinking."

"How do you know?"

Without looking up, she said, "I was there." Her hands never faltered as they shaped the dough into flat circles.

"Did you free him, Griane?"

This time she did look up. "Aye."

Darak took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Does anyone suspect?"

"Jurl. But he won't say anything."

"How can you be sure?"

Her smile was mirthless. "Better to be overpowered by a half-grown boy than a woman."

"You hit him? Sweet Maker." He rubbed his eyes and finally asked, "Why, Griane?" hit him? Sweet Maker." He rubbed his eyes and finally asked, "Why, Griane?"

She tested the baking stone, frowned, and went back to patting the oatcakes. "I kept thinking how his mother would feel. If her son didn't come home to her."

"He might have attacked you or-"

"Nay." Her hands fell still and she stared into the fire. "He bowed to me. And put his hand over his heart."

Darak stalked to the doorway and back. "You're sure Jurl will keep his mouth shut?"

"Aye." She gnawed at her lip. "Do you hate me?"

"What?"

"For freeing him."

"Nay. They would have torn him apart. I couldn't have stopped it. And I'd . . . I would have hated having the children witness that. Still . . ." He sighed. "Aye. Well. It's done now."

There was something she wasn't telling him, but before he could question her, she said, "I packed. Food, extra clothing." She gave him a weary smile as she laid the oatcakes on the baking stone. "I guessed. When you wanted to question the boy."

"You don't mind?"

"You went to Chaos and back for your brother. You could do no less for our son." Briskly, she dusted meal off her hands. "Ennit will take the children. I'll speak with Sali before we go. Make sure she knows what to do."

It took him a moment to realize what she was saying.

"I need to make up some more decoctions. That will give us a little time with Callie and Faelia."

"Griane . . ."

"I know you want to leave as soon as possible, but for the children's sake-"

He grabbed her by the shoulders and jerked her to her feet. "Listen to me!"

She reared back, her eyes enormous.

"You cannot come."

"I've done all I can for the wounded. And Sali-"

"Sali's an apprentice."

"So was I when I returned from the First Forest!" She shoved past him, breathing hard. "You can't go alone."

"I'm not. Urkiat's coming with me."

"Good G.o.ds, Darak, you barely know him."

"He speaks the language. He knows the land."

"There's a darkness in him. A violent streak."

"The raiders wiped out his family. Of course, he's dark-natured. But I need him."

"And not me."

"You know I need you. But our children need you more. A quarter of their kinfolk are dead. Their brother has been stolen. They can't lose both their parents as well. If anything should happen-"

She whirled around and slapped her fingers against his mouth. "Don't say that. Don't even think it."

Obediently, he swallowed his words before they could reach the ears of the G.o.ds. Then he took her hand. "The children have lost their brother. Now they're losing me. They need you to keep them strong."

"Ennit . . . or Alada . . ."

"They need you, Griane. You know I'm right."

"And why should you be the one to go? I guided Cuillon back to the grove. I kept him alive. I chose the trail. I marked it for you to follow."

"I know."

"And yet you claim I'm not strong enough or clever enough-"

"I didn't say that."

"Then why must I remain behind?" When he didn't answer, her mouth twisted. "Because I'm a woman."

"Nay."

"And a woman's place is by the hearth. Or grubbing in the fields. That's all we are fit for, isn't it? To bear your children and cook your meals and harvest your crops."

"That's not true."

"Isn't it? A girl isn't permitted to find a vision mate. Or to hunt. If she's lucky, she might become a healer or a priestess, but never a hunter. And yet you teach Faelia, encourage her to dream of becoming the one thing she can never be. What happens when she comes to you to learn to draw a bow and you refuse? How will you explain to her that slings and snares are one thing, but a bow is only for men? Will she thank you for your wisdom and your teaching then?"

"She would have thanked me yesterday when her skill saved your lives!" Angry now, he paced. "What do you want me to say? That it's unfair that women cannot do everything that men can? You're right. It is. It's unfair that a girl doesn't have the same choices as a boy. It's unfair that our son has been stolen, that our kinfolk have been slaughtered. It's unfair that I lost my life-path and can only teach others to do what I can't. Life is unfair, Griane."

Again, he seized her shoulders, staring down into her resentful face. "There is no one-no one-I would rather have guarding my back. If it were only you and me, we would already be gone. It's not because you're a woman, Griane. It's because you're a mother."

Deliberately, he softened his voice. "And that, too, is unfair. But the fact remains that I have a better chance of finding him. I'm stronger than you. A better tracker. And if I can no longer draw a bow, I can use sling and snare to feed myself and a dagger to gut the man who attacks me. I can trade a story for a meal. And when I reach this city where they've taken him, I can wander into places a woman cannot without risking rape or death."

He caught her pointed chin between his thumb and little fingers and tilted it up. "I know what I'm asking. And I know it's not easy. Especially for you. You were never much good at waiting." He gave her a bleak smile. "I need to know that you're here. Watching over our children, keeping our tribe strong. I need you guarding my back."

Although he was desperate to leave, he knew his limits. He'd slept little in the last two nights, had eaten even less. He took his leave of Nionik and Sanok, asked Elathar's oldest boy for the loan of two coracles, asked Ennit to look after his family. He sat beside Duba and promised he would search for Owan, but she just stared at him as if his words made no sense. Then he made his way to the birthing hut. Standing outside, he told Lisula his plans and asked for her blessing.

He heard the low murmur of voices from within and then Muina emerged. "Since you cannot look upon Lisula or touch her, I will help perform the rite."

Lisula spoke the words, while Muina sketched the signs of protection on his forehead and over his heart. "May the wind be at your back and the sun upon your shoulders. May the moon chase away the darkness and the stars guide your feet. May your path be smooth, your journey swift, and your homecoming joyous."

Muina pulled his head down. "The blessing of the G.o.ds upon you." She pressed a kiss to his forehead. "The blessing of the Oak and the Holly upon you." Her lips brushed one cheek, then the other. "The blessing of your Grain-Mother. And your Grain-Grandmother." Hands cupping his face, she kissed him twice on the mouth. Finally, she folded his hands between hers. "It's the strength of your spirit that will carry you on this journey, not the strength of these hands. Remember that, boy. And hurry back to us."

He returned to his hut and found Urkiat silently chipping the flint of his dagger to a sharper edge. Griane and the children crouched near the fire pit, their heads close together. His eyes widened when he saw the pile of supplies.

Everyone in the village must have contributed: arrowheads and sinew, bone hooks and fishing line, stone bowls and turtle sh.e.l.ls, a bag of oatmeal, a coiled braid of nettle rope, and most valuable of all, a bundle of furs to trade. With shaking hands, he unwrapped doeskin packets containing strips of dried venison, smoked salmon, and suet-cakes.

Had Ennit pa.s.sed the word? Or Nionik? Or had they all realized from the beginning that he would go after his boy?

Carefully, Darak rewrapped the food and packed the supplies into the bag that had once carried his hunting gear. The children helped him make up fire bundles to carry embers from one camp to the next. He talked quietly to them as they worked, explaining the route he and Urkiat would take, their hope of staying with other tribes for the first part of the journey. Much of it he simply made up; even Urkiat didn't know how many villages remained along the coast.

Callie stuffed flints, tinder, and straw into the small belt pouch. Faelia wrapped his firestick in his extra tunic. As he added it to his bag, he heard a choked sound and looked up to find Griane holding Keirith's folded mantle. Tenderly, he took it from her and laid it beside his hunting bag.

Then he took his children's hands and led them outside. He sang with his kinfolk, adding his memories to theirs, sharing laughter and tears and stories as the afternoon waned. By the time the sun was gone, most of the men were drunk and a few of the women as well. Tired beyond words, he let Griane lead him back to the hut.

He kissed the children, told them he and Urkiat would be up before dawn so they must say their good-byes now. Faelia threw her arms around him, her face fierce despite the tears. Callie promised to be good. He tucked them in and sat beside them until they slept. Then he stripped off his clothes and crawled under the wolfskins next to Griane. Urkiat had not returned; Darak wondered if he had chosen to sleep elsewhere to allow him time alone with his family or if he had sought comfort in a stranger's arms.

Griane had hardly spoken to him since their argument. He wanted her badly, needed her even more, but feared she would turn away. He knew his refusal had wounded her; even if she understood his reasons, he wondered if she would forgive him.

He was groping for her hand when she rolled toward him. They came together, fierce and wild and silent. It was over in moments, Griane biting down hard on his shoulder at the last to stifle her cry, while he shook in her arms, tasting the blood from his bitten lip. Only then, need satisfied and punishment exacted for the hurts each had inflicted on the other, could they come together again, hands and mouths and bodies seeking forgiveness and forgetfulness, promising that this parting would be temporary, that this joining was not the last.

It was still dark when he abandoned the warmth of the wolfskins and his wife's body to dress and gather his supplies. He held back the bearskin just enough to admit the faint half-light that heralded the dawn, just enough to make out the sleeping forms of his family. He watched them a long while, imprinting the moment on his memory. Then he slipped outside and found Urkiat waiting.

His last quest had begun in the darkness of a winter night. As they made their way to the lake, the first streaks of violet and rose tinted the sky to the east. A promise of dawn, of a new day, of hope.

Darak looked back only once, just before his coracle entered the channel. His heart thudded unevenly when he saw the three figures standing at the water's edge. He raised his paddle, but he never knew if they saw him. He wasn't even sure if they were real or if their beloved forms had been conjured by the desire in his heart and the sun in his eyes and the tears blurring his vision.

PART TWO.

By these signs shall you know him: His power shall burn bright as Heart of Sky at Midsummer.

His footsteps shall make Womb of Earth tremble.

Speechless, he shall understand the language of the adder, And wingless, soar through the sky like the eagle.

No pageantry shall attend his arrival.

No poet shall sing his name.

No mortal woman shall know his body.

No mortal man shall call him son.

Hail the Son of Zhe, the fire-haired G.o.d made flesh.

Welcome him with reverence and with dread, For with him comes the new age.

Zherosi Prophecy

Chapter 9.