The sky did not fall. Ealad-hach did not pursue her with chains and fetishes, though she knew from the talk passed by Brys to Scandy and Phelan and, thence, to all of Nairne, that he had constructed any number of Wardweaves. She knew from Bevol that Ealad-hach had also closeted himself immediately after the Cirke incident with some of his Tradist comrades.

"He will not," Bevol told her, "let it lie. He's just regrouping."

"But I held the stone," Taminy observed. "I stepped right over that horrid runebag."

"And you are not so naive as to believe that means aught to Ealad-hach. His judgment has been impugned, anwyl. He said a Wicke could not hold Lin's crystal or Weave through it or exit a Cirke when confronted by a moleskin-covered, marinated snake's head." His mouth twitched into a grin. "It appears he was wrong. Wicke can do those things."

"I'm not," said Taminy, "a Wicke."

"I think it would be harder for Ealad-hach to believe that-to believe himself wrong about that-than it would be for him to believe he merely underestimated a Wicke's powers." He paused and cocked an eye at her. "You put on, to all descriptions, an amazing display. He can't doubt that he underestimated you."

Taminy tilted back her head and peered up into the high-beamed ceiling of their parlor. Ah, yes, as even I did! A smile intruded when her lips would be serious.

"I meant for nothing to happen, really. A simple schoolroom Weaving, I said to myself. A spark of light in a bit of stone. Gwynet might have done as much. But instead, a shower, a fountain-nay, a-a downpour!" She was laughing now, remembering their faces-startled, perplexed, awful, astonished-gleaming in the Eibhilin light of Taminy-a-Cuinn.

"They say you were a rare wonder with crystals, when you used them."

A rare wonder. Had she been? The laughter stilled and she lowered her eyes. "I couldn't control it, Bevol. I took that stone in my hands and completely lost control. It was like a-an Eibhilin sneeze. Forgive me," she added when Bevol began to chuckle. "I don't mean to make light of it."

He laughed outright at that, and she heard, somewhere out of sight, Skeet's boyish bray. Raw emotion flared in her heart-anger, self-pity, hilarity, sorrow, all rode the crest of an ill-defined wave that swelled, tumbled and broke in tearful laughter. And when it broke, every lightglobe in the house flared full on, dazzling the occupants. She heard Skeet yawp squeakishly and Gwynet's footsteps, rabbit-rapid on the stairs, her high voice piping, "What is it? What is it?"

She wanted to laugh, but it wasn't funny; she wanted to weep, but the situation provoked her to laughter. In the end, she let Bevol take her in his arms while she laughed and wept in turns.

"Let me see," said Osraed Faer-wald, "if I understand you." He was seated in a low sack chair in Ealad-hach's chambers in the company of the Osraed Parthelan, Eadmund, Ladman and Ealad-hach himself. Just now he gazed at the ceiling of the room as if collecting his thoughts from it, his fingers steepled on the grand curve of his stomach like a little pink Cirke on a massive hill. "You tested the girl-"

"As I said," interjected Ealad-hach testily. He did not like Faer-wald when he was in a mood to be interrogatory-setting himself up as grand inquisitor. It fairly curled Ealad-hach's eyelashes to be so carefully grilled.

"As you said last Cirke-dag. You gave her the Gwyr crystal, supposing her to be a Wicke and expecting that it would go dull or burn her or some such, I assume."

Ealad-hach felt angry heat blaze up his neck to scorch his ears. "You know very well what I expected. We've been through this. I told you what I expected."

"So you did, but the plan failed, correct?"

"My original plan failed-to catch her teaching dark runes at that glen. If it hadn't been for that idiot Lorimer girl, I might have done that. I had a mirror. I could have caught her in it without her knowledge."

"Pardon," said Ladman, "but according to your young spies, catching her unawares at that pool has yet to be done."

"Not so!" Ealad-hach raised his hand, a dull fire lighting behind his eyes. "Aelder Prentice Brys and his cronies caught her unawares the Cirke-dag previous and brought my attention to her doings."

"They beheld her weaving dark runes?"

"They beheld her doing things they did not understand."

"Well," said Ladman, in that word summing up what he thought of Ealad-hach's Aelder Prentices.

Parthelan raised white brows. "She can't sense men, is that your thought?"

"Or can sense only those who carry darkness in their souls."

"Irrelevant," said Faer-wald, "since the plan never came to fruition. You did not catch her weaving dark runes. You improvised a test and she ... well, failed to meet your expectations." He tilted his head and gave Ealad-hach a long look. "When you reported this, I took it to mean that she failed to prove to be Wicke."

Ealad-hach shook his head emphatically. "No! No! You miss the point!" He sat forward in his chair. "She did not prove pure. She proved powerful. My misjudgment was in applying so simple a test to her."

"Simple?" asked Osraed Eadmund. "What more telling a test could you have given? Outside of the Osmaer, the Gwyr crystal has no equal in purity."

"Gartain's Giddian," murmured Parthelan.

"Well, yes. With the exception of Gartain's crystal, Giddian. Are you suggesting we've encountered a Wicke whose power approaches the Meri's?"

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Parthelan, and Ladman clutched his prayer chain.

Ealad-hach was shaking his head. "No. I'd never suggest that. What I ...What I see happening is what Eadmund suggested to us some time ago. A test. A test of such importance that the Meri has allowed-allowed, mind you-Her laws to be bent and Her truths to be circumvented."

"By this cailin, Taminy-a-Gled," said Faer-wald.

"By this Wicke-" Ealad-hach hesitated. He could not say what his dreams had led him to suspect, perhaps because he could not bring himself to believe what those dreams implied. As he turned the name in his mind-Taminy-a-Cuinn-he rejected the absurdity of it. Wicke she must be-hundred year old Wicke, she could not be. Bevol simply wanted him to believe that to heighten his fear. He pursed his lips. "She is simply more powerful than I expected."

"But the crystal," objected Eadmund. "The runebag ..."

Ealad-hach dismissed that with a wave of his hand. "Ah, that runebag was Wickery in and of itself. I used it merely because I thought she might believe in its power. She didn't. She's no fool."

There was a moment of thoughtful silence. Faer-wald broke it. "And no Wicke, either, it would seem."

"I told you-" Ealad-hach began, cold fury raising his voice.

"She failed your test."

"Damn you, Faer-wald! Why will you not see? We are in a Cusp. A dangerous Cusp. We've all sensed that much. New Osraed bring us insupportable doctrinal changes and impossible accounts of that girl Meredydd's so-called transformation, the Cyne tugs at the reins of our governing power, and this girl appears to-to juggle the Art before our faces as if it was a carnival toy."

"So she has a Gift. Enroll her in Halig-liath and discipline it."

"She has no intention of attending Halig-liath. Her education, according to Bevol, is complete."

"We oughtn't sanction that," interjected Parthelan. "No one should make careless with the Art outside Halig-liath."

"Only within, eh?" asked Faer-wald, winking.

"You joke," accused Ealad-hach, "about what is not a joking matter. She does her little miracles every day now. People afflicted with odd ailments go to Taminy for a confection and when next Osraed Torridon sees them, they are cured. Have you seen Marnie-o-Loom's hands? She was severely arthritic. Torridon could do nothing for her but ease the pain. I say was arthritic, Osraed, because Taminy gave her a salve and a bit of wood. Do you care to guess at the results?"

Faer-wald sat forward, sending the pink Cirke crashing to his lap. "Look," he said, "what do you want from us? Why are you bringing this up again? What is your intention?"

"I want you to join me in recommending that Taminy be called before the Osraed Body. I will devise a more thorough test and publicly try her. I want to trap her, Osraed. And destroy her."

Four pairs of eyes met in the center of the chamber, leaving Ealad-hach entirely out of their deliberations.

Eadmund cleared his throat. "We are in a Cusp."

Parthelan shook his head. Faer-wald and Ladman echoed the movement.

"We cannot recommend that, Osraed," Faer-wald told Ealad-hach. "There is too little evidence to support you."

"Too little evidence? What of my dreams? My aislinn?"

Again, glances were traded at the center of the room. "You said you couldn't see the face of the woman who came out of the Sea."

"I have seen it. Late the night before last. It was her face. The face of Taminy-a-Gled." He glared at the silent ring of faces. "Do you doubt my vision?"

"Perhaps 'doubt' is too strong a word." Faer-wald now attempted to soothe him. "If you would take us to your aislinn chamber, show us this woman-"

"I cannot." Ealad-hach curled back into his seat, wrapping his arms about himself. "My ability to draw on aislinn vision has been severely impaired by my health. I haven't slept well since I made the discovery-the stress ... I have been unable to bring the aislinn back."

"Well, what can we do, then?" Faer-wald glanced about at his cronies and shrugged his bovine shoulders. "If you could show us, perhaps we would be convinced to back your recommendation, but without that evidence ..." He shrugged again. "You have tested her and failed to prove her to be anything but a young woman with a strong Gift, which Bevol has no doubt nurtured. I agree with Parthelan about the questionable wisdom of allowing the Art to be taught outside the Academy. But even at that, she is under the tutelage of one of the greatest masters Halig-liath has produced-come, Ealad, you must agree with that, regardless of what you think of his theology."

Ealad-hach was silent.

Osraed Parthelan rose and shook out his long tunic. "I agree. Understand, Ealad, I am with you in your desire to keep cailin out of Halig-liath. I cannot believe this change will be beneficial to the Brotherhood. But calling this child a Wicke, blaming her for our troubles-"

Ealad-hach pounced on the admission implicit in that. "Then you don't believe Wyth Arundel's Tell?"

Parthelan's eyes widened. "Not believe? Have I a choice? He wears the Kiss-gaudily. I suppose I must believe. He is the Meri's Chosen, Her emissary. That doesn't mean I agree with what he says or must like it."

"But if you will go that far-"

"I will go no further." Parthelan excused himself and left, taking Ladman with him.

Faer-wald took that opportunity to make his own excuses. "As I said, Ealad, if you could show us this aislinn, if we could see this woman's face and be convinced ...Perhaps when your health improves, your concentration will improve with it."

"I will show you," murmured Ealad-hach. "By the Kiss, I will show you." If Faer-wald heard him, he did not show it, and Ealad-hach found himself alone with Eadmund and a black mood. He vented the darkness at the younger Osraed. "Well, what about you? Are you going to mock an old man?"

Brow furrowed, Eadmund shook his head. "No, Osraed. I would never mock you. I ... I understand your respect of this Cusp, of the unique danger it poses, the unique challenges it brings."

"Then you do believe me-about the girl?"

Eadmund's eyes traced the pattern in the thick carpet. "It's hard to ... to accept that such a young, seemingly innocent cailin should be the repository of such wickedness, such power."

Ealad-hach allowed himself a grim smile. "And that, Eadmund, is her advantage. Her youth, her sweet appearance. But she Weaves. She weaves darkness, constantly. She weaves disagreement and dissension and if we are not astute, if we are not prepared, she will weave our destruction ...Yes, yes, I know," he added, seeing the expression on the younger man's face.

"Hard to accept. But we have seen much lately that is hard to accept, have we not?"

"You mean Osraed Wyth's Tell?"

"Aye. That's hard to accept, yet it seems we are bound to its acceptance."

"You strive to connect the two-the girl's Gift and Wyth's Tell. That, I think, is what I cannot accept."

"She sought him out at Tell Fest. They conversed privately for some time. They, who supposedly didn't know each other."

Eadmund ghosted a smile. "Well, he is a young man and she is a lovely cailin."

"Loveliness," said Ealad-hach, "is like the crust on a snow. It glitters brilliantly and seems temptingly solid, but a man would be a fool to set foot upon it and trust it with his weight."

Eadmund nodded. "But the snow isn't evil, Osraed. It is cold by nature-a nature decreed by the First Being."

"Your point?"

Eadmund gazed at him a moment, then shrugged. "None that is worth elucidating. Pardon, Osraed, but I must go over the Academy accounts with Aelder Marschal."

He was gone, then, and Ealad-hach had only his black mood for company.

The sky did not fall. The Cyne did not send soldiers after him, did not censure him, did not stop the newly-established flow of goods to the Care House in the shadow of Mertuile. Leal had feared that, in the dark hours, staring at the ceiling of his new room at Care House. Had been terrified that, for his brash acts, Fhada would suffer-worse yet, that those who depended on the Care House for subsistence and healing would suffer.

But that didn't happen. The goods-fresh goods, now-arrived from the Cyne's Market by the cartful and Leal relaxed a little, thinking perhaps the Cyne had taken the Meri's words to heart and would cease to imagine himself Her spokesman. By the second day after the incident, he was convinced nothing would come of it and allowed himself to be pleased with the results of his brief tenure in Creiddylad. That was the day the Abbod of Ochanshrine visited Care House and called Leal aside in the presence of Osraed Fhada.

The Osraed Ladhar was an imposing man despite his advanced age. He was not as tall as the conifer-like Fhada, but what he lacked in height, he made up in girth and presence. Balding at the crown, he had a froth of silver hair that lay densely upon his collar and framed heavy jaws. In his broad, ruddy face, his eyes stood out like diamonds pressed into red clay. They were that colorless, that chill, that piercing.

Indestructible, Leal thought. Cynes had come and gone but Osraed Ladhar was still here and the Kiss on his forehead was still here, though Leal had to face him head on to see it-a stellate mark the color of peridot.

"Well, young Lealbhallain!" The Abbod's smile was a fatherly embrace and his voice exuded joviality. "You've made yourself a bit of a celebrity in Creiddylad."

The eyes didn't change and Lealbhallain knew that either they lied or the voice did. "I'm sorry, Abbod. I didn't mean to do that."

The old man chuckled, warm tones rolling deep in his barrel chest. "No? What did you mean to do?"

Splinters of glass could not have cut more sharply than those eyes. Leal struggled to believe he had done nothing wrong and groped for an answer. "I wasn't trying to do anything, Abbod. Except, of course, the Meri's will."

"The Meri's will? Why, I believe we all strive to do that. It's not always easy to divine." Ladhar flicked a glance at Fhada, who stood in his office's one window embrasure, watchful. "How did you become convinced it was the Meri's will that moved you?"

"I heard Her Voice."

"Ah! That sweet Voice. How did She sound?"

"Determined," said Leal, without thinking.

"Determined? How so?"

Leal shook his head. "She simply did. And it wasn't sound, exactly. She bid me rise and go forward and was determined that I do so."

The Abbod nodded, leaning back in his chair till Leal feared he would become wedged there. He chastised himself for the impious thought.

"Did it occur to you, for even a moment, to question this determined instruction?"