"Yah. Right. Depending on the time of day. Where Lugh Sun is after rain."

The vertical stick would indicate true meridian. In the morning Rainbow would appear in the west;, in the after- noon to the east, but dividing it would give them a smaller area to search out the long barrow.

Dorelei's eyes glowed with belief. "Hoard be there, do feel it. The road of the gods. But .. . which circle?"

No, he wouldn't let her dampen her own victory.

"Circles come later. Come, were gathering salt."

"Ai, what needs salt when-"

"We do."

"Which circle, Padrec?"

"Have nae come to't yet. Peace. Have just been bril- liant. Must be God in the next breath? Salt."

Dorelei sighed at the enormity of it. "Must be tens and tens in Pictland."

"Hundreds."

333.

She sifted the loose sand through her fingers. "One grain from the whole oft." She inclined her head toward the others working at the net. and the children. "Still, must have something to believe in for them. Could a be true, husband?"

"Could."

"But where?"

Gloomy truth to match the weather's treachery. The wind shifted, and fhain trudged home with their catch through a petting rain. A late winter pall hung over the tower, shadows too deep, the smell of the close-mewed sheep for once too rank for Dorelei. Drying her hair with Neniane and Guenloie, Dorelei gazed about the dreary place they'd come to. Suddenly she swore gustily. "Gray, gray, gray, and what be not gray be black or brown- All shadow, all dark. Enough!" She swooped down on Neniane and Guenloie, linking her arms through theirs. "Tonight we comb out our hair to shine in firelight. Tonight we open fhain treasure and wrap ourselves in the brightest left to us."

Guenloie squealed yah! for the notion, already seeing herself in a riot of color.

"Thee, Neniane," Dorelei kissed her cheek, "will wash off sadness and wear the color becomes thee most. Green.

sister. Green for thee, scarlet for Guenloie, and gold for thy gem." Dorelei felt lifted up just for deciding. "Let the men see us most fair this night."

Malgon and Padrec must be sick of the dark as they, she knew; as any crannogbound fhain in late winter, starved for the feel of warmth on their skin, the smel! of fresh green in their noses.

So supper had that much color to it: Dorelei on her gern-stone, heavy with gold, Neniane ladling mutton-bone soup in an emerald pendant set in obsidian, Guenloie noisy in silver bangles clustered about a modest ruby, wrists clanking with copper bracelets inset with jade.

The men were pleased indeed, especially Malgon, who couldn't make enough of Guenloie in her brushed and rain-softened hair and flashing finery, and of course the children had to tug at the jewels and try to swallow them.

Dorelei's simple stratagem worked. With the aromatic peat fire and warm soup, her people were at least content this

334 night, and she led them in remembering good things from the early times when they were bairn themselves, barefoot and black-dirty to the knees, trudging after Gawse's po- nies on rade.

Now and then Dorelei's glance slid to Padrec and his silent enjoyment of their sharing without needing to be part of it. While they chattered on, he'd not spoken for some time, holding Crutegh in his tap and gazing over his tea from one woman to the other. Then he put down the cup and said:

"Dorelei, it is true. It must be."

"Nae, wait." She silenced the others with a gesture and turned to him. "Say, husband."

"Thee did ask this afternoon, in all the mathematics and reasons, if Rainbow-song could be truth."

"Do much believe't."

"More true than not." Padrec leaned past her to fin- ger Neniane's emerald and obsidian pendant. "Bredei said once that many things speak an we've ears to listen, eyes to see. The treasure thee wears: did see it and nae see it before this moment."

Like holding a truth in each hand without the plain wit to join them together. Look at what Neniane wore;

emerald set in obsidian. Emerald came from Africa, obsid- ian nowhere but near volcanoes. He had to describe a volcano for fhain, but the point was made. Were none in Britain, and they were grateful. The ruby Guenloie wore came from nowhere near Britain but from Cathay in the Far East, alike the rare green jade. All were foreign to Britain but not to Rome, whose wealth came from all points of the known world and beyond, and much of it brought to Britain in the days of the long peace. Did not most of the coins they Hung to tallfolk have a Roman's face on them?

Padrec grinned slyly at them. "Dost know what I think? A was borrowed."

Indeed? This fhain could appreciate.

"For who be more skilled night-borrowers than Prydn?"

"Borrowed!" Neniane hooted, and then the others with her, the children shrieking in chorus to the joke.

"So Gern-y-fhain's belief be more true than not."

335.

Guenloie winked like a conspirator. "Will nae tell an thee'll not."

A braw joke on tallfolk. The good spirits bubbled around the fire, but Dorelei was reflective, turning the clay cup slowly in her palms. "Would think on this. Padrec showed how tallfolk numbers could make Rainbow help us. Now, an hoard be borrowed, was done south of Wall and carried north."

"And must think in tallfolk time now," Padrec said.

If he was right, Rainbow-gift was not ancient at all.

Roman citizens like himself and his family were traders and importers for centuries. The wealth of the world poured into Britain to adorn the villas. But about eighty years ago, the Picts and Irish started to raid the coasts for whatever they could carry away, including slaves, as Padrec himself was taken to Ireland. As the strength of the regu- lar legions depleted and then vanished, the raids grew bolder and more frequent.

"My own great uncle buried a's wealth as did others.

Many fled to Armorica, many were killed before they could return."

In fact, Meganius told Padrec that only about four- teen years past, shortly after Padrec was taken by the Irish, there was a great collecting and burying of treasure against such raids. So it could all be that recent, didn't fhain see?

For Prydn, all the past was like looking at the world with one eye closed; all flat, no depth. But open the other eye, and some things are farther away, others nearer. Like Rainbow-gift.

They ruminated on the new concept in silence. Dorelei wondered. "Eighty years be how much?"

"Three hundred twenty seasons, Gern-y-fhain."

The number was meaningless. "Tens and tens."

"Tens of tens. Hoard might have been harrowed in the time of Gawse's mother."

"Then much was borrowed." Malgon guessed. "Look thee at the treasure each gem held so long."