The unnatural cold went deeper into Padrec's senses.

No man of Reindeer, no slaughter of men, no scavenger birds disturbed the summer heath. Wind stirred the moor grass with its fresh promise of rain, nothing else. The hilltop beyond was bare. Padrec shook his head to clear it, "No woman but man."

"Was Bruidda, Padrec."

301.

"Thee's daft, I saw him."

"Was Bruidda."

"Nae. did speak."

"Speak?"

Padrec considered a moment. "A kind of name. Belrix."

Malgon seemed more frightened by the portent than the vision itself, the naked fear in his eyes fueling Padrec's own.

/ am gone from God now, and hell knows it. These visions are of thai place. Different or no, we both saw them.

His hands trembled as he gathered his reins.

Malgon roused himself, vaulted his horse from a dead run, and lashed it toward Cnoch-nan-ainneai.

From the edge of the stone circle, Padrec could see the Venicone stockade in the distance.

"Was here Dorelei and Cru found me when Vaco broke my legs and 1 believed in no magic but God's."

"Were ravens then, too." Malgon reflected. "And now a come again in dreams."

The first drops of ram spattered them. They led the tired horses toward the rath and byre. Both were obvi- ously deserted. Prydn would have shown themselves to their own kind long before this. They rubbed down the horses with moss and then ventured into the disused rath.

Disturbing: from the signs scratched on the hearth stones, a clear record of habitation could be read for many seasons past. Newest of all was the curved line of Marten fhain, some of whom must have lingered at least part of the summer. Padrec had to interpret for himself, bemused Malgon only nodding absently at this or that observation.

"Rath poles be good, skins whole."

That added to the mystery, as did the iron cooking utensils abandoned. No fhain left good skins, which were considerable work to obtain and used until they wore out.

Marten had gone in haste.

Padrec made a small fire and boiled some tea from their provisions. They shared a supper of bread and cheese, listening to the sound of the rain. Malgon stared into the fire, silent. Finally he spoke, not in Prydn but the army- learned jumble ofCumbric and camp Latin. "Padrec, what

302 is it that I am called in your tongue? Have no word for it.

He who speaks in pictures?"

"Artist, Malgon."

"Ar-rtiss?"

"Be thy gift."

Malgon tried on the strange sound like a new gar- ment. "Ar-tist. Dorelei has gem's gift of sight. It is to women that such pictures come, not men." Malgon fal- tered into silence for the space of a few breaths, haunted by thoughts beyond language. "Thee saw the men dead and the ravens. And those who watched from the hill."

"So much I saw, like thee."

"But a Reindeer man where I saw Bruidda. A spoke name as thy vision did."

"Belrix," Padrec confirmed. "As one would name Lugh or summer. Lord of fire."

"Nae, Padrec."

"Brother, did hear it."

Malgon only shook his head. "Artos. Name was Artos.

Briton-name."

"Artos?" Padrec squinted at him across the fire. Not a British name; more like Briionized Latin, their attempt at urstis; that seemed more reasonable. "It might mean 'bear,'

Malgon."

Malgon drank his tea, pensive. "Such sights be given to gerns alone. When men see them, sign be sure as tracks in snow."

He put down his bread. Food was far from his mind now. In the rath entrance, the slit of daylight faded, and shadow deepened around them. Padrec accepted his broth- er's silence and didn't press to share his thoughts. When the words came, they were in Prydn and Brit together for the alien mixture of truths Malgon had thought out.

"Did see Reindeer alike. Thee a man, me Bruidda.

Was Bruidda found the black fawn."

Padrec listened without comment, open now to many more beliefs than were schooled into him. If Paul could have a vision to the profit of the gentile Church, or Con- stantine to that of an empire, why should he disbelieve his own senses or those of Malgon? What was holy, who blessed or elect?

Malgon spoke carefully, choosing his words. "A thing 303.

was to come among Reindeer fhain. The Bright One from the Sea. And the Bear. Alike thy man and Bruidda looked to the hill, alike did speak a name. Firelord and Bear.

"A thing has ended," Malgon whispered. "Or will end. May not yet be begun. But did see the ending this day. Lugh dimmed a's eye and turned from the sight of it.

World be a circle like the stones. Like life, Padrec. Rein- deer came first, Reindeer will end. Tens of seasons will come for Taixali and Venicone, but Prydn will be gone."

He smiled thinly at Padrec. "Perhaps Lugh will keep a's promise and show us Tir-Nan-Og,"

"When. brother?"

Malgon shrugged. For all his bond to fhain, Padrec Raven yet thought in the illusion of tallfolk time, so he must use their queer word for it, a word that stopped the wheel of life and plucked from it one hurrying moment as more important than another.

"Soon."

Death for Prydn was only a turning of the wheel to youth again, but no longer. Dim but near, Malgon had seen an edge, an ending.

The rain washed the world clean and deemed it wor- thy of sunlight. The morning shone, the last sprinkles of rain sparkling on the heath. Over it all, as if to say. "Now, there's beauty," Lugh had drawn a rainbow flowing out of cloud down to the undulating hills.

Padrec drew water for the horses and then washed himself in the tempering trough. Malgon came out of the rath, dazzled as himself by the colors of the world. Last night's shadows seemed unreal in such radiance. Malgon lifted his head and sang to the rainbow.

Be not where but only when The Prydn hoard be seen again.