"I wasn't thinking! I was out of my mind with fear and worry. Just as you were when Tinnean was lost."

The anger drained out of his face, but he stared at her so intently that she winced. "And what did he ask in return?"

"He . . . wanted me to go to the Summerlands with him."

"And what else?"

"And spend the day."

"And what else?" When she didn't answer, he crossed to her in three strides and seized her arms. "What else did you give him in return for saving us?"

She shoved him away. "He wouldn't save you both! He made me choose."

His eyes widened in stunned disbelief.

"He made me choose," she repeated in a broken whisper. "Just as he made you choose between me and Cuillon all those years ago. And I . . . I chose you. And now Keirith-"

"Nay."

"If I had chosen him, then-"

"It's not your fault."

"He's my son. My son! Any mother would choose her child. Any wild creature would protect her young. But I didn't. Fellgair pushed and pushed and I just called out your name and then it was too late."

He shook her, his fingers digging painfully into her arms. "Look at me. Look at me! We cannot know, Griane. We'll never know. We're alive, girl. We're alive and we're home. That's all that matters."

"Is it?"

She saw the terrible uncertainty on his face, the desire to believe that nothing had happened in the Summerlands warring with the helpless fear that it had. He would not ask her again. She knew that. But should she tell him? Would the truth be easier to bear than the lingering doubt?

"Darak . . ."

He seized her face between his hands and kissed her, his mouth hard and demanding. Without thought, her arms came up, her hands tangling in his wet hair, her body pressing against his, needing the rea.s.surance of his love as much as he needed hers.

He jerked away, but only to grab her wrist and pull her down onto his discarded mantle. He bore her back, pinning her beneath him, spreading her thighs with his knee. She lifted her hips to receive him, but he reared back. His eyes filled her vision, daring her to look away.

"You're mine."

He sheathed himself with a single hard thrust that made her gasp. His teeth clenched, but he couldn't prevent a low groan from escaping. As if to deny it, he gripped her tighter.

"Mine. Now. Always."

With each word, he moved inside of her. She tried to pull his head down, but he captured her wrists and pinioned them at her sides. And when she closed her eyes, unable to look at his ravaged face, the calloused palms came up to clasp her cheeks.

"Look at me."

His eyes were as gray as the twilight. Wide and tearless, they held her captive as surely as his body. Neither of them was permitted the escape of tears, the oblivion of release, only this relentless imprisonment of body and mind and spirit.

"One blood. One body. One life."

The words of the marriage ceremony. The words that bound them together forever.

His breath came hot and fast, his body demanding the renewal of the pledge they had given to each other so many years ago. And her body answered, hips rising to meet his, fingers digging into the scarred back. She cried out his name, desperate to possess him, to be possessed by him, to expunge the memory of Fellgair, to blot out the grief and pain she had brought him and Keirith both. And when he cried out hers, his voice was so fierce and full of longing that she wanted to weep.

The pleasure built until she could no longer contain it. Her body shuddered as the first wave engulfed her. Only then did his lips seek hers. Her cry mingled with his as they lost themselves in a final surrendering of self.

They clung to each other in wordless communion, each offering strength to the other and receiving it in turn. Just as they always had, as they always would. Nothing could change that-not distance or death, not even the Trickster.

"One blood," Griane whispered. "One body. One life."

Darak's hands cupped her face. "Always."

And then there was only the sweetness of their mouths and the rhythm of their hearts and the warmth of the summer night enfolding them.

Chapter 52.

NIONIK ARRIVED AT the hut shortly after dawn to tell them he wanted the council to meet immediately. "I know you've only just returned, but it would be better to deal with this matter at once." Darak agreed; the sooner the council could settle things, the better.

Griane fussed over them while they dressed, as if their appearance could possibly determine the outcome of the meeting. "Just tell the truth," she advised them. "They'll believe you. And mind your temper, Darak."

"My-?"

"You're going to hear things you won't like, and it won't help matters if you start snapping at the council members."

"I don't snap."

"Nay. You shout." She smoothed his braids, brushed a speck of oatcake off his tunic. When he captured her fluttering hands, she went still. He waited for her to look up at him, watching the color rise up her throat to stain her cheeks. Finally, the blue eyes lifted and she gave him a tremulous smile.

He smiled back and pulled her close. Last night had confirmed their love, but the shadows were still there. In time, it would grow easier. In time, he would stop tormenting himself with images of Fellgair smiling at her, stroking her hair, touching her body. The Trickster might have been content to make her choose between her husband and her son. He might not have demanded anything more.

And if he had . . .

His arms tightened around Griane.

"Darak. I can't breathe."

He released her. He even managed to laugh as she shooed them out of the hut. "We'll be waiting," she promised. "Unless I decide to sneak over to the longhut and listen outside."

"Can we?" Callie asked.

"Nay! I was teasing."

"It won't help matters if your mam charges into the council meeting like a mad bullock."

Griane punched him. He grabbed her fist and kissed it. Hircha smiled along with the children. Only Keirith's smile seemed unnatural, as if he sensed the undercurrents. With an effort, Darak thrust aside those concerns; today, all his energy must be focused on the council meeting.

The rest of the elders were gathered in the longhut when they arrived. They all nodded politely and tried not to stare at Keirith. Darak chose a place next to Muina, and Keirith sat down beside him. Elasoth nodded to him and he nodded back. He was a natural choice to join the council. All of Elathar's boys were good, steady lads, although Elasoth had always seemed shyer than his younger brothers. He didn't know whether that would hurt Keirith or help him.

Nor could he predict how Lorthan would respond to their revelations. Ennit's uncle was a sweet, soft-spoken man, but easily swayed by the opinions of others, especially Strail who never hesitated to speak his mind.

Ifrenn's presence was a blow. Darak had counted on Sanok's support and had been shocked to learn how feeble he'd become. To his shame, he had not even noticed Sanok's absence on the beach, but he promised himself that before the day was over, he would visit him.

"Darak. Stop daydreaming and answer the girl."

He looked up to find Nionik's daughter leaning toward him, a waterskin cradled in her arms.

"Thank you, Oma." He held up the cup, eyeing her swelling belly. "Not long now."

She straightened, one hand on her back. "By the full moon, Mother Griane says. Elasoth swears it'll be a boy from the way he kicks."

"What do men know?" Muina shook her head dismissively. "Use the needle on a thread, child."

"I did. It swung round and round no matter how many times I did it. Another girl for sure." With a sigh, she continued around the circle. Elasoth looked fl.u.s.tered when she poured his water; obviously, this was his first council meeting and he wasn't sure how to behave.

Nionik had no such reservations; he kissed Mirili's cheek and thanked her for the basket of oatcakes. As soon as she and Oma departed, he called for silence.

"The first order of business is to ascertain that it is, indeed, Keirith's spirit inside this man's body."

"Good G.o.ds, why would I make that up?" Darak exclaimed. "Do you think I'd pa.s.s off some stranger as my son?" He subsided under Nionik's quelling stare. The council had barely begun and already he'd forgotten Griane's warning. "Forgive me. I just never expected a test would be required."

He saw the panic in Keirith's eyes as he rose. Saw, too, how quickly he suppressed it. Gortin rested his hands lightly on Keirith's shoulders and closed his eye. For the first time, Darak was grateful for his limited gift; Struath would have sensed the remnants of the Zheron's spirit immediately.

Two deep creases formed between Gortin's brows. His eye flew open.

"What is it?" Nionik asked.

"Nothing. This is Keirith." The tremor in Gortin's voice was plain. "His spirit . . . has changed . . . but it is Keirith."

"Changed? How?"

"A man's spirit is not fixed. It reflects the things that happen to him. The joys he has experienced. The suffering he has endured. Keirith's spirit has endured . . . a great deal." Gortin bowed his head. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Keirith's hand came up to cover Gortin's. Even hard-bitten Ifrenn seemed moved.

Maker, let them remember this moment. If they do, they can never condemn my boy.

Nionik waved Gortin and Keirith back to their places. "We must now decide whether the Holly Tribe should be invited to share our deliberations."

This time, he managed to keep his voice level. "The Holly Tribe?"

"Morgath was brought before the combined councils for casting out the spirits of animals. Keirith-by your account, Darak-has cast out the spirit of a man. There is a precedent."

He resisted the urge to shout, "d.a.m.n the precedent!" Instead, he asked calmly, "Will Keirith get a fair hearing from the Holly Tribe? The elders hardly know him."

"Forgive me, Memory-Keeper, Oak-Chief . . ." Elasoth glanced around the circle uncertainly.

"Go on," Muina ordered. "You've as much right to speak as anyone else."

"I just thought . . . since the elders of the Holly Tribe don't know Keirith, they would not be swayed by sentiment."

"What's wrong with sentiment?" Lisula demanded. "We are surely judging not only the act but the man who committed it. We who know Keirith best are best able to judge his character."

Elasoth wilted visibly. The rest of the council began debating the point until Muina interrupted. "If you call the elders of the Holly Tribe in, you might as well take the boy to the heart-oak now and have done with it."

"They're not fools," Strail rumbled. "Well, most of them aren't. Can't say I think much of their new chief."

Ifrenn hawked a gob of phlegm into the fire pit. "He's a sanctimonious stick. How else could he have lived with my sister for so many years? She's so pious, she p.i.s.ses honey."

Nionik cleared his throat. "Your point, Strail? About the Holly Tribe."

"Oh. Aye. Just that wise men-women too, I suppose-would keep their minds and ears open and not rush to judgment until they'd heard the whole story."

Muina's voice overrode Lorthan's murmur of a.s.sent. "As soon as they hear Morgath's name, Keirith is a dead man."

Darak flinched, but Keirith accepted the brutal words without changing expression.

"I agree with the Grain-Grandmother," Gortin said. "It's too easy to draw parallels between Keirith's power and Morgath's without taking into account their natures."

"A good point," Lorthan said.

"Besides," Muina added, "this is our business. Must we run to the Holly Tribe every time we have a difficult problem to resolve? Bad enough that we have to discuss how many fish we can take from the lake and whether a hunter can cross the river in pursuit of a deer he's stalking."

G.o.ds, she was clever. The two councils had argued both issues only this spring and there was still a good deal of acrimony about the outcome of that debate-especially among hunters like Ifrenn and Strail.

"Is there any more discussion? Then I call for a vote. Those in favor of inviting the elders of the Holly Tribe to our council?"

"Nay," Elasoth said loudly. Lisula leaned toward him and whispered something. "Oh. Forgive me, Oak-Chief."

"Never mind," Muina said. "Despite Nionik's vote-calling and all-in-favoring, we're not very formal here."

"All in-Does anyone wish to invite the elders of the Holly Tribe? Fine. Then we'll settle this matter ourselves."

Darak breathed a quiet prayer of thanks to the Maker and another to Muina. The first battle had been fought and won.

Muina poked his knee. "Control your temper," she whispered.

"I'm trying. But it's hard-"

"I don't care how hard it is. If you start arguing with everyone, you'll condemn the boy as surely as the Holly Tribe. Forgive me, Oak-Chief," she said in a normal voice. "I was reminding Darak of his manners."

Good-natured chuckles greeted her remark, as much over his discomfiture as Muina's bluntness. He couldn't risk alienating the council members, especially Ifrenn and Strail; they had always been jealous of his hunting skills. Keirith's fate could be determined by such personal issues, no matter what Strail said about wise men who would keep their minds and ears open.