changed tike spring weather now, and everything Cru said came out wrong.

"Should be glad of wealth, Cru."

As if he'd not tried to be. "Yah, Gem-y-fhain."

"Such a 'yah.' Dost turn sour on thy lips."

"Did only say-"

"Oh, thee's stupid! Go hunt." Then, to his confusion, Dorelei turned her back and burst into tears. All the things he wanted to say or do seemed inadequate now.

Was it possible she didn't know how much he needed her?

"Need nae hunt," he answered lamely.

"Then go walk, ride, go anywhere, but away."

Her back forbade him like a wall. He knew she felt sick with the wealth, he knew women could be unreason- able anytime. Usually it took only a gentle touching, a holding to let her know all was well. Cru knew this and wondered sometimes if Dorelei had a like knowledge of him. She needed to be held now but would not suffer it.

He needed to reach for her and his pride was in the way, and the thought of Padrec. So he left her with the distance stil! between them and went for his pony to ride through most of the summer day, until he topped a high bare fell where the wind cried like wolf-song. There, between earth and sky, Cru squatted stili as the rocks and brooded.

Fhain called him wise. He didn't like what wisdom prompted him to now, but he couldn't stop it.

He delayed his return to rath until late afternoon, not liking the way he felt. In his acid view the very green of the hills turned to poison. When he led the tired pony up the path toward byre, he saw his whole fhain gathered on the ridge by Malgon's forge, the men with their new swords, and Padrec practicing with Artcois. Padrec kept the movement slow and precise to show the cuts and parries. What they lacked in size, fhain men made up in speed. More than once Padrec stopped short to laugh in surprise as Artcois dropped low on sinewy haunches and shot up far faster than larger men could hope to.

Cru hovered at the edge of the group, twisting the pony's reins in his fingers. Neniane was wearing Dorelei's blue stones for the whim of it, hands pressed to her swelling belly. Stupid Guenloie had begged Dorelei's bridal gown, her own wealth bulging against the tight waist. Cru 173.

wished he could share the happiness they felt; anything to relieve this weight thai lightened his jaw until it hurl.

Drust spied him first and waved. "Cru! Come join.

Dost make Roman-soldiers of fhain."

Aye, does he not. Cru dropped the reins and moved forward as Artcois lowered the sword to rest. Cru took it from him.

"Now Padrec will teach first husband."

"Right, then." Padrec mopped his forehead with a bare forearm. "Stand so, Cru. Feet so. Sword up in this manner."

Cru circled the larger man, trying several swings.

Padrec blocked easily, circling to counter him.

"They'll mostly be bigger than you and go overhand for your head. Like so. And so. Block it square. Get under the blade tike a shield. Under it, Cru. Good. Again."

Watching her husbands, not all of Dorefei's malaise was due to the child. She chilled with premonition, a wave of it. It could be the wealth that made her instincts unreliable-or sharpened them. she couldn't say-but the chill grew to fear. When Malgon brought her a drink of water and berry juice, Dorelei waved it away; the smell nauseated her now. She drew Malgon close.

"Mal, stop them."

"Do but play, Gern-y-fhain. Blades be not even edged yet."

"Nae, dost hear? Come between them- Padrec, husband-"

The thing happened even as she spoke. As the blades clanged together, Cru slid forward, left hand streaking out with the knife. Dorelei stopped breathing. She heard Padrec's grunt of surprise and pain. He faltered back a step, the thin red line broadening on the under part of his sword arm, then spattering on the grass.

"Cru-"

"Do think fhain scars make thee Prydn?" Cru said in a flat voice. "Then a's one more for thee."

They all hung frozen on the edge of the infamy as the color drained from Padrec's face. Then Drusi shot for- ward, clawing tor his own knife. "Judas!"

"Nae, stop!"

No need for Dorelei's command. Malgon neatly hooked

174 Drust's arm, spun him around and away, confronting Cru with his own contempL

"Did know thee angry bul nae a fool."

The blood ran faster from Padrec's wound. Guenioie fluttered about him to stanch it. The thing done, it was to Cru as if his eyes had been opened suddenly after long blindness. He saw the mean folly of it and flinched away from their stunned accusation.

"Padrec ... be sorry."

"Guenioie, tear the gown for linen. Sister, fetch thy scissors and hyssop." Dorelei pointed at Cru, speaking in the same tone she used on the Taixali boy. "Judas. Judas who was false among Jesu's own fhain. Go from me, Cruaddan."

He hung his head in naked misery. "Dorelei-"

"Go from me."

"Cannot."

"Then will speed thee."

Dorelei's own hand was a blur; for an instant in that vicious traverse, Padrec saw the beauty and grace of her go feral as Wolf. One stroke and the shallow red line across Cru's chest. He suffered it without flinching.

"Go from me, Judas."

His bare nod of acceptance was part of the shudder- ing that took them both. It was not that much; Padrec yearned to say something, to make peace. Cru already had repented of the moment. But Padrec knew enough not to intervene in such a matter. Only time would heal it now.

For all his early maturity, Cru was still a boy, and even grown men could stumble on something they weren't ready For. More shocked than angry, his own anger flared and died in understanding. Then Neniane was back with the shears and poultice, cutting at the linen gown. They would rather use that than the almost sacred linen put aside for child-swaddling.

Cru brought from the rath a small bundle, bow, and quiver. He mounted and rode away without a glance at any of them. Dorelei glared after his retreating figure across the back of her own pony as Cru rode south through the last of the light. She felt empty and ill, barely noticing Neniane and Malgon as they slipped up beside her.

"Peace; a's but a man,' Neniane soothed. "Will cool and come home the wiser."

175.

"Judas. Will nae step aside for tallfoik, will nae suffer a traitor for husband."

"Be nae Judas but the best of men," said loyal Maigon.

"Let a go apart just the while. A day and-"

"Oh, let be!" Dorelei hissed. "Go play with foolish iron thy gern did tame tor thee. Go."

With a glance at Neniane, Malgon bade her away and went to help Padrec if he could, troubled in his own thoughts. Aye, buts a go and yel looks after the gone before the stayed. They were much changed by Padrec's magic. Jesu gave them new gitts, true enough, and new sorrows to wrap them. H he'd not been so fond of his new iron-lov, Malgon might have seen it coming.

Lugh Sun was gone, mooneye rising, but Dorelei raced the pony on, ignoring the labored shriek of its breath. She haled Cru; she would kill him and could not. but if the pony dropped under her, if its heart burst, then let it.

Should run the heart out of it and herself. She pushed the spent animal up a brief slope and along a ridge as the sickness grew in her stomach.

Used to her seat and rein. the pony felt the weakened will and sensibly slackened his pace. Too sick now to caie, Dorelei let the pony break gait, slow to a walk, taker to a lathered halt. Dorelei eased down to lie on her stomach in the cool moss. After a time she rolled over, letting the freshness seep into her back. The exhausted pony stood nearby, head hanging, too winded even to graze.

/ don't care if he never comes back. I don't care. It is not his wealth m me, but Padrec's.