She assigned their tasks. For this day, she and Neniane would take charge of the children and consecrate the new fire with unburned fragments of the old. Malgon would hunt (and be frugal with good arrows, mind), Guenloie would search out and prepare moonstones to offer Mother.

"And Padrec will make the magic of the tallfolk num- bers. The mathe-matic. Let us begin then."

Alone in the circle, Padrec noted the position of the afternoon sun moving into and out of cloud. It could be a beginning; failure wouldn't be for want of trying. They'd traveled nigh the length of Pictland, from Moray Firth to the Wall. The few encounters with tallfolk tribes were ticklish but bloodless, since they kept to the high ridges.

The decision to rade early was wise. No other fhains were yet on the move. They used bits of gold and small jewels from the last of their treasure to trade for barley and winter vegetables, and now and then they butchered an

343.

344 old ewe for mutton. They met no fhains on the way, and very few signs were observed. Beyond the generation that died in the holy war, the rest of Prydn seemed to have melted away.

Were there so few to begin with that less than two hundred would make such a difference?

Why not? Last year the fhains massed on this hill numbered less than a thousand, and all said it was the largest gathering in memory. From here to Catanesia, there were probably less than half that in all now. Vanishing.

Lord God, no matter that you and I are not getting on, but these people gave more than I ever did or will. Let's not haggle faith or the purpose of miracles. They need one now.

He picked up the sharpened slake by his foot and began to pace the circle, which was more elliptical than round on an east-west axis. With the Roman gradus as measure, he estimated as closely as possible the exact cen- ter of the stones and hammered the stake upright with his sword hilt.

Begun.

Padrec noted the position of the sun and the pale shadow angling from his sundial-stake. Not quite gone two of the clock. No hint of rain, not yet. But a generous distribution of rain and sun with accurate notings of time could give him a spread of rainbow positions, morning and evening. On Bel-tein the sun would rise directly over the most easterly stone; thus it was aligned.

If he was right, and if they were in the right circle out of hundreds, if the sun shone enough to help his perilous mathematics, if it rained often enough at the right time of day, and if his theory was correct to begin with, if another fhain didn't challenge them for the hiH or the Venicones drive them out, they just might be within arm's reach of the miracle they needed.

The next morning at dawn, he and Dorelei were waiting by his stake to see where the sun rose. Dorelei had no word for complex numbers but knew exactly how many days to Bel-tein.

"Four tens and five."

"Forty-five days." Padrec grinned at the wry coinci- dence. "The Ides of March. Caesar died on this day. Did make great roil in Rome."

345.

She looked anxious: had they begun on an ill day, then?

"Just for Romans. Look, see what Lugh tells us."

He drew a circle in the earth with his knife, two lines slicing into it at close angles, one for this day, one tor Bel-tein morning. Knowing this much, he could halve and quarter the difference and virtually predict where Rain- bow would appear and point in the wortd-dish round them, even before the day came.

Dorelei flushed with admiration. What other man could, with a few scratched lines, so foretell the move- ments of Lugh? Truly Padrec was Raven-gift and his magic awesome, but she could still help in some things.

"Barrow will be higher in the west than east. And must took sharp. Will be hard to find."

The weather warmed day by day. They moved out of the crannog, set up, and sodded over the rath, wondering when the Venicones would notice them, and one day Malgon found out.

He was hunting in the wood north of their hill just after daybreak, hoping for a buck deer. Doe was forbid- ^, den now, still needed to mother the new fawns, nor was it ^ the best time of year for Stag, and Malgon apologized to ^ his spirit beforenand, but food was needed. The hunt ^ should not be difficult. Fhain knew all the thickets tavored ^ by deer and their morning and evening trails to water. He ^ planted himself upwind of the freshest trail and waited as st morning grew brighter.

'T Talltolk notion of quiet was laughable; he knew 5 Venicone were near long before they showed themselves.

They'd been spoiled by a whole autumn and winter of free ranging on the slopes with no Prydn to fear, and here they came clumping through the thickets, secret as a thun- derstorm. Malgon debated showing himself and decided it ''.' was the better course. They should not be allowed too ,, close to the rath or know how few lived in it. He stepped out of the thicket directly in their path, one arrow nocked, another ready.

It was Elder Vaco himself, one of his brothers, and a much younger man, probably one of Vaco's nephews. To the Venicones, his appearance was startling as it was silent.

346 They halted, unprepared, their bows not even strung yet.

The unmoving Hale man could impale all three of them before ihey had a chance. Vaco tried to read that face. A year ago it was impassive; now there was something darker and tacitly dangerous.

"So the Faerie are back. We heard it was that you were all dead in the war of the Romans."

"Many are returned to Cnoch-nan-ainneal," Malgon assured him.

The other two men edged apart from Vaco as if to encircle Malgon. His bow lifted slightly. "Do but hum this day."

"This hill is ours now," Vaco claimed. "We have grazed our flocks on it."

"Will be as't was before. Glens be Venicone, hills Prydn."

"Put down the bow," the young man said in what he hoped was a threatening voice. His hand itched toward the knife at his belt. "Elder Vaco will be merciful."

Malgon shook his head. "Do hunt. Thy noise frights game. Go."

The youth mistook Malgon's stillness for indecision.

He took a step forward- His hand touched the knife. The stillness of Malgon flowed into motion. The bowstring thummed loud in the clearing. The youth jerked and howled as the arrow pinned the fleshy part of his right arm, protruding from it. In the next eye-blink, the other arrow was nocked and ready.

Vaco recovered himself. "You little-"

The sentiment choked off as the cold metal edge touched his throat, the voice as cold. "That would be foolish and wasteful, Elder Vaco. You would die for noth- ing where no harm is intended you."

"Who," Vaco sputtered, off balance, "who is it that is behind me?"

"The Jesu priest," his brother said sourly.

"So you see the truth my brother speaks. The Faerie once again claim their ancient hill. Don't move, Elder.

Your youth is lucky. Malgon need not have taken just his arm, but the arrow is tipped with aconite, so the wound should be quickly tended."

Padrec removed the knife from Vaco's throat and 347.

, stepped out to face them at Malgon's side. No, the cold of them was no mere impression. They were different men than those who feasted in his hall the summer past. It was as if some of the life had been leached from them and replaced with iron. It glinted in their eyes. Padrec drew his sword and leaned on it.

"We are not of your world, nor will we be long in it.

Dorelei Mabh, who tamed the iron, now seeks for Tir- Nan-Og. Our flocks will not graze in Vaco's meadows.

Our magic will not take from his presence. A little time only will we be among you, then no more. Will Vaco be wise enough to see there is no war between us? We have already seen war. There is no profit in it and no honor."

Vaco hovered between two Ores-the need for pres- ence, and the quiet force of this weird Jesu-man. He and his wife broke the age-old magic of iron. They came bearing gifts, one of them quieted three vicious dogs with a look, were rumored dead and gone, and now stood here before him, and he seriously doubted in his superstitious soul if the priest, the demon-bitch, or any of them could be killed. The priest was once an easy target for ridicule; now his very stillness was formidable. He dangled the sword casually, motioning Vaco to one side in private speech.

"Vaco, let us end this. Take the boy, mend his arm, leave us the hill. We ask no more. Do that, and this night you will hear the bean sidhe cry out our bargain to the gods. Will it be so?"

"You will stay out of our glens?" Vaco demanded in a loud voice for the others. "You will work no magic against the Venicone, man, woman, flock, or field?"

"None."