The force of k as much as the insult stopped Bruidda dead in her vehemence. The voice was a curse itself, scathing, contemptuous, spoken to a child from the height of an adult.

"Fool, Bruidda. Some grow larger, some but old. Nae, thee prate of what Mabh would know and nae know. Thee would nae know Mabh did a sit to eat with thee. Mabh could change, thee cannot. Mabh did speak to me. An a thing be ended, Reindeer has ended. Because a runs back into the dark. not west with the light. 1 have seen Tir- Nan-Og and know the way."

Dorelei paused to let that work on them. The scorn idied in her voice, leaving the sadness of waste and folly.

374 "Thee's been an honored gem, Bruidda, a braw queen.

Thee never feared to die, ontv to live. Take the rath, then, and the flocks, but leave our ponies. We rade to Tir-Nan-Og."

Bruidda's hand moved in a subtle sign, but even as the bows raised in answer, Dorelei's left arm shot out in a warding gesture. "Stay!"

She took a step toward the older gem, seeming the older now, patient wisdom reasoning with a stubborn child, almost pleading. "Hast nae been enough of dying and tears? Will Prydn tear at each other like Vaco's dogs? Hear the wonders of this barrow. Will leave thee most of them, but let it end here. Let us go."

Bruidda shook her head, implacable. "Salmon be poi- son on Mother's breast. Kill them."

Dorelei's right hand hooked back in a blur of speed and brandished the iron knife high. She hurled one word at Bruidda, more guttural sound than speech. Padrec had heard it once before. The bows hesitated; bowstrings in the motion of bending eased down again. Bruidda straight- ened as her folk looked to her, then leaped from the pony and hurled the same harsh sound back at Dorelei, as Bredei voiced it at Churnet Head before their lunatic charge.

"Gerns will answer for a's fhains," Malgon said. "Alone."

Not until Dorelei and Bruidda stripped off their up- per garments and stood bare to the waist did Padrec believe it. "Be such things allowed?"

Malgon schooled him in few words. They were al- lowed but avoided. The thing had never happened in his sight or knowledge during his lifetime. Rare for men to fight, rarer still for gems, and only in a matter grave as this. "Tens of seasons past," he remembered, "when Gawse's mother was Salmon gem, a woman of Marten fhain tried to draw a's first husband away. Not often, but so." Malgon nodded at the men of Reindeer. "A stay aside, so must we.

Must nae touch thy sword."

Now the movements of the two gems assumed the aspect of a ritual. Bruidda drew to her the young woman who had spied out the open barrow. Padrec remembered her, Bruidda's daughter Nebha. She put in the girl's hand the pendant ruby and received her daughter's reverence.

375.

'. Dorelei came to Padrec and kissed him. He tried to argue her out of it, but Doreiei paid no attention. The course was fixed.

"This?" She bobbed her head toward Bruidda. "Be a price, Padrec. All things change, nothing stays. Be a place [ have seen and my folk win have't. An I be fool, then Mo-ses one as well."

She pressed her mouth to his one last time. "Thee was beauty in my arms. An I die, help Neniane to where a must rade."

Neniane knelt before her sister, hands to Dorelei's stomach.

"Have nae treasure to put about thy breast as our mother did, but Neniane second daughter will be Gern- y-fhain,"

The small kitten face raised to hers. "Aye, sister."

Guenloie and Maigon came to pay their respects, as did those of Bruidda a little way from them. Malgon touched Dorelei's belly, frowning with concern.

"Have been in war, Gern-y-fhain."

And knowing that place, Malgon knew the eyes of those committed to kill and those not. Dorelei was not ready for it, would hesitate where Bruidda would not.

"Kill a quick. Nae think, nae feel. Do't."

Dorelei embraced the children, her lips to their ears, a secret endearment for each. Last of all was Crulegh, who didn't understand any of it and squirmed in her arms, hungry for his breakfast. Dorelei brushed back the length- ening black hair, smoothing it down. Then she undid the thong that held her sheath, drew the iron knife from it, and strode forward.

"Reindeer, come."

She didn't want to kill Bruidda and wasn't sure she could. The older gern had fought more than once and bore the scars to prove it. Twice in Dorelei's life, one mad moment with Cru there was the vicious will to have blood, the stroke repented every day since. Again when the Taixali cut down so many of them-then she did it smiling, but not this. She would fight to stop Bruidda. render her helpless if possible. Only her vision Dorelei would not give up.

She crouched as Bruidda did, the two of them circling

376 warily. Silent, no breath or concentration wasted on ha- tred now, only the act. The tense fhains ringed about them. Somewhere on the heath, a bird piped to morning.

Bruidda sprang. The wiry-muscled legs bunched and propelled her forward, slashing up at Dorelei's throat. At the last instant the younger woman moved slightly. Her blade was not as long as Bruidda's, allowing her less reach.

She must be careful, go for a wound that would stop Bruidda but not-

Guard!

Light as a dancer, Bruidda followed through the mo- tion oi her slash, whirling in a tight circle to cover herself again. Against Dorelei's defensive crouch, she darted in, slashing, whirling again as Doreiei faded aside like a shadow.

She moves to the nghl, Doreiei realized, her strength and balance always to the right.

They hovered like hunting birds on a lethal air, poised, coming together-to the right, but faster this time than Doreiei judged. Again she feinted aside from the slash, but Bruidda was too quick, not enough time before the line of fire burned across her upper arm.

She was bleeding, didn't know how deep it was-not too bad, not the dull shock that meant the deep muscles, but deep enough to stiffen the arm in a matter of mo- ments. The pain lanced through her concentration. She wove, lowering her guard a little. The faltering did not escape Bruidda. Doreiei saw no hatred in her eyes now, only purpose. Bruidda feinted with a false step, swiveled sideways, and lashed out with her foot. The blow caught Doreiei in the stomach, tearing the breath from her lungs.

She stumbled back, fought for balance, but her heel caught against a hummock, and she went down.

Even as she roiled aside to spring upright. Bruidda dove like Hawk, the long bronze blade streaking up to slash backhanded across Dorelei's throat. Dorelei's youth and desperation were quicker. Her own blade met it with a metallic sound loud in the deadly silence. Iron screamed at softer bronze, bit deep into it, snapped it short. Doreiei drove her fist into Bruidda's left eye, rolled away, and came up on guard.

Bruidda's eye was closing. She was shaken, crouching with the useless blade in her hand. Doreiei faced her,

377.

feeling the blood warm her skin as it flowed from the wound. The muscles were stiffening. She couldn't last much more, but Bruidda couldn't win. Her arms and legs trembled as she pointed the knife.

"Bruidda? Will say be over, done?"

The woman only shook her head, wasting no energy on talk.

"Need nae be, woman!"

"Thee's a shadow on Prydn," Bruidda panted. "A filth."

Doreiei lowered her knife. She felt suddenly ages beyond this woman, understanding her as a child. Not her crimes Bruidda wanted to expunge, not the loss of a generation, not even Dorelei's pride, but the place she took and the name of Mabh, the presence usurped from Bruidda: more blows of the whip after the death of her son, a defeat never intended. Doretei, who had no word for tragedy, found herself knowing it.

"Woman, enough," she said quietly. "Let us put it away. Salmon will go."

In Bruidda's voice there was still a rag-end of triumph.

"Dost fear, Doreiei?"

"Do mourn thy death, old woman." Sadly, hating the words for their leaden truth. "Thee died so long ago."

An instant before she sprang, something flickered in Bruidda's eyes. Doreiei never knew why she did it; per- haps to deny the truth or because Bruidda knew it all loo well. Doreiei melted away before the attack, sinking to one knee, catching Bruidda's wrist. The iron came up, driving home under the scarred ribs. Bruidda jerked, crumpled to one side, and lay still.

Only when she knelt beside the body did Doreiei realize the sun was shining bright and full on them.

"Padrec," she piped weakly. "Pad . . ."