"It is nothing. What would Gern-y-fhain say?"

She'd already announced him as their messenger; she needed other counsel now. "Thee knows the trade south of Wall. And this season so little to trade with."

"True." Padrec kept his head slightly lowered, eyes on his feet.

"Taixali will ask what thee has to trade. What be most wanted by taHfolk?"

Padrec thought on it, pulling his lower lip under front teeth. Gold and jewels were current anywhere but out of the question now. Fhain wealth was rarely men- tioned, and then only as Rainbow-gift. Wool, yes, but theirs was not ready. Nothing else worth mentioning. Were they in reach of Corstopitum, they could get good value out of a pound of pepper or a few jars of liquamen, but Prydn knew nothing of commercial spices.

"No wool. No furs beyond what fhain wears."

"Then what, Padrec? Do need to know."

"Can think of nothing else but Blackbar." Informed courtesy made him use the taboo word for iron to neutral-

116 ize its power in the crannog; still Dorelei made a perfunc- tory warding sign before she spoke. Padrec shifted on the stone with a trace of irritation. For anyone else the iron would be money, food, supplies, anything needed. Here it was unmentionable. And yet she sal there with her gray eyes solemn with concern and responsibility and worried at him for answers.

"Ponies then?"

"Nae."

"My horse could fetch a fair trade."

"Will need it to move in spring."

"I may not be here in spring."

Her head moved slightly. "Will be here."

Padrec threw up his hands. "Well, there's the rath poles and skins, but 1 wouldn't count on it."

"Oh, Padrec."

"Or the stones in the circle, but they'd probably want 'em delivered."

"Do speak like a fool. Do nae try me, Padrec."

"Why not?" He looked up at her for the First time, hoping Dorelei couldn't read the thing that ate at him.

"You ask common sense and forbid me to speak it."

"Forbid thee nothing. This word, that, but say."

"Rainbow-gift."

Doretei didn't move- Her eyes opened and closed again without expression. Padrec pointed to her gold tore.

"I speak with your permission. Gold. Silver. Jewels."

"Nae."

The primitive obstinacy was loo much for his civilized mind. "Why not, Dorelei? Do you know the value of what you wear. that tore, the stone that Reindeer gem wore?"

He heard the sense of blasphemy in her answer. "Nae."

"Oh, God preserve me, what can I say?"

"Cannot trade that. Will nae think it."

"Someone must think it, Dorelei. I put it to you as gern. What else?"

"Nae."

Padrec sighed. "Then let Gern-y-fhain, who has the lives of her people in hand, tell what a will trade."

Now it was Dorelei's turn to avoid his eyes. "Gawse would not."

"I venture she never needed it that much."

117.

"Mabh would not."

He knew enough not to contradict her there. Mabh was her own Moses, not to be gainsaid, but she might be an example. "Was not Mabh a bringer of great change?

Did not Jesu chide the Hebrew pnests mired in worn-out ways? Who can say what Mabh would or would not? I have only ridden with Dorelei, who is wise and strong enough to let Christ into her rath. Will such a gern balk at a handful of cold metal to help fhain?"

"Be more than that, Padrec."

"What then?"

"Magic. From the First days. Real gifts here in hand from Mother and Lugh Sun."

"Then let me ask this: as 1 am called Father Patricius, will not all of Prydn someday call thee Dorelei Mabh in reverence? Mabh had the courage to change. Does Dorelei?"

A persuasive argument, it pressed on her sense of responsibility and pride. If Padrec could swell to the pros- pect of honor in the Church, Dorelei might be swayed in her own terms. He was glad she couldn't see him just then, with her head bowed. This feeling toward a woman was new to him and not easily hidden. His love welled up in a surge of pity and understanding that wanted to hold Dorelei, tell her it would alt come right. He spoke care- fully, then, the truth of both of them.

"Dorelei-my friend-listen. Take back from me what I've learned from you. We must ail bend a little from our beliefs sometimes. Bend a little, or . . ."

Her dark head came up, searching him for an an- swer. "Or what, Padrec?"

"Or go down. Go mad. I don't know." He poked at .the small Fire. "Have said, Gern-y-fhain."

Padrec lowered his head again. Fiddling with his stick at the Fire. There was a long silence between them; then he heard the slight rustle of movement. When he looked up, he saw that Dorelei had removed her gold tore, turn- ing it thoughtfully in her hands.

It was a measure of their need that no one seriously opposed the decision beyond some grumbling from Malgon the pessimist, who clearly saw it as a desperation measure, and a few questions in private from Dorelei's husband.

118 Whatever any of them felt, the need was a reality. With Padrec's estimation of Roman gold weights for a standard, a simple clay mold was shaped and baked, the gold broken or shaved from their treasure and melted down into trad- ing sticks of considerable weight. Dorelei was surprised to find how little it depleted their treasure. Not even consid- ering the precious stones, Padrec reckoned it at over a thousand gold aureii and still only a fraction of their hoard or that of other gerns like Reindeer. The wealth, the damned cold reality of it, there for years or ages and untouchable, as real a covenant as the Ark. Paradox or madness, Prydn were some of the richest folk in Briton, the most needy, and the least likely to survive.

The Taixali were suspicious of a Briton who came in the name of Faerie, but the gold spoke for itself, solid foot-long sticks of it, notched over the length for easy breaking; fine gold that made the eyes of the village elder, Naiton, shine brightly as the wealth. Well enough: let the Faerie come next day.

Trading was something of an occasion to fhain, the novelty always edged with the uncertainty of their recep- tion. For this day, the flocks were watered and fed and left in the byre. The women bathed and anointed themselves with herbs, chose their best kilt or fringed skirt, the men their least tattered vests and trousers. They shaved care- fully, sharing the one ancient copper razor, to show their distinction from Picts. To a man, Picts shaved their whole bodies and beard except for fierce, flaring moustaches, which they dyed or curled or stiffened as their hair. Their women dressed their hair in various plaited styles. In contrast, Faerie men shaved their faces clean, proud as the women of their delicate-boned beauty. The razor was al- ways offered to Padrec but had to be so tediously sharp- ened after each use that he gave it up and let his hair and beard grow out, much to Dorelei's fascination. His hair was red; how could his beard have red and brown and even a few white hairs, all undecided like the salt marsh?