Ardis shook her head. "I felt something, God help me. I don't know what."

Saxan nodded, intent on her now. "But it isn't evil, is it Ardis? Wouldn't we know if it was evil?"

"Would we?"

"I've begged to know. An aislinn. A sign. An inkling. Anything. I feel something from Taminy-a-Cuinn, but I'd be the worst kind of liar-and a fool-if I pretended it was evil."

"If an aingeal fans your neck, spin about and kiss it back."

"What?"

"An old rhyme. My mother taught it to me ... about those little tickles of-of something that make you shiver."

Saxan smiled and nodded. "I remember that yes. I guess that's what I'm doing-trying to return the aingeal's kiss ... or, perhaps, the Meri's kiss."

The chill Ardis experienced then was cold and unpleasant. "You don't believe her Tell, surely? Not you. By the Kiss, I've always believed you to be one of the most steadfast men the Meri had ever chosen."

He only looked at her, shouldering his pack. "I hope I am that. I must be that. And I must know about Taminy-a-Cuinn. Do you understand, Ardis? I must know."

She wanted to weep, but knew it would only add to the burden he already carried. "I understand."

He held out his free arm to her. "Then come kiss me good-bye ... Aingeal."

She did, and found the affection comforting. They moved out into the upstairs hallway then, and Ardis called out to Iseabal to come bid her father a good journey. The girl appeared from behind her bedroom door too quickly and came, hang-dog, down the hall, her cheeks burnished rose. Ardis didn't confront her with her eavesdropping, but merely watched her hug her father's spare frame and scurry back to her room.

"She'll feel better by and by," said Saxan and kissed Ardis long and deep. "And so," he promised, "will you."

But watching him head off toward the river road, Ardis felt the promise to be empty. As empty as her house was without him.

"Aine! Aine-mac-Lorimer!"

"Here!" The redhead rose from behind a low shrub, brushing leaves from her breeches. "Did you have trouble getting away?"

"A little." Iseabal came the rest of the way into the river glade. Her skirts were tied up into her sash to ease riding astride, and her dark hair was bound into a fat plait that hung over one shoulder. "I told mother I was going to the Sanctuary to pray for father. That way I knew she wouldn't go looking for me." She shifted uneasily. "It didn't feel good to lie."

"So pray on the way to Creiddylad. Where's your horse?"

Iseabal gestured over her shoulder. "Tied to a tree back there. "Where's Phelan?"

"He went back for Wyvis and Rennie."

"I thought they weren't coming."

Aine grinned. "Seems their mam found out about our adventure and thought they ought to go-not without her, though."

Iseabal's eyes felt as if they'd start from her head. "Mam Lusach is coming too? What about her shop?"

"She'll find someone to run it for her. Don't worry so."

Iseabal gazed into her palm, rubbing the faint, stellate mark there with her thumb. "I can't help but worry. I can feel her, calling me. She's lonely, Aine. And she's in danger."

Aine sobered. "I know. I feel it too ..." She paused to study the mark in her own palm. "Have you ever stopped to wonder what we're becoming?"

Iseabal shivered, but the chill was a delicious one. "I wonder every moment. But she's the cause of it. Whatever we become, we shall be better than we ever were."

"I never wanted the Gift," Aine murmured, then raised her head sharply. "Someone's coming."

It was Phelan. He had brought the Apothecary, her children, and Orna-mac-Mercer. All carried faint, star-shaped marks in their palms and a deep loyalty to Taminy-a-Cuinn in their hearts.

"The Cyne has spoken to you about the Assembly, of course." Daimhin Feich's smile came with an offer of tea.

She accepted the tea and nodded. "Yes, he's mentioned it several times."

"He's explained, then, that he wishes you to remain silent, and why."

"Yes. He wants the Osraed to appear fanatical and ridiculous. And, of course, he wishes me to be found innocent of heresy."

"Both true. For you are innocent and the Osraed are fanatical and ridiculous. But, there's a bit more to it than that."

Feich sat down next to Taminy on the stone bench she occupied in one of the castle's many pocket gardens. For a moment, he said nothing, but let his eyes roam over her face and hair. Her blush only made him smile more deeply.

"How lovely you are-rose and gold. Like one of those." He gestured at the roses that stood sentinel along the wall. Then, he lowered his eyes and chuckled. "Forgive me. I was going to say that the Cyne has grown very fond of you. I've grown fond of you in the brief time you've been with us. We only advise you to your own good. Which is to say, for the good of Caraid-land. Cyne Colfre and I are aware, if no one else is, that the two things are inextricably connected."

"Yes, they are." She let her eyes rise to his.

He did not break off his gaze. "The Osraed are corrupt."

"Not all."

"No, but as an institution-"

"As an institution they have lost sight of their purpose. I'm here to remind them of it."

Feich stared at her. "I've never heard you speak like that before, of purposes-theirs or yours."

"You've never discussed the Osraed with me before. Not directly."

"So, you have a purpose: To remind the Osraed of their purpose."

"That's one of the reasons I'm here, yes."

Feich's brows rose. "There are more?"

She tilted her head to one side. "I see them, little by little."

"The Meri shows you, does She?"

"Yes."

"And what else does She show you?"

"Whatever She wishes me to see."

He was silent for a moment, studying her. "I am very loyal to my Cyne," he said at last. "Fiercely loyal. Perhaps I try to ... compensate for my forebears." He smiled ruefully. "The House Feich is not well known for loyalty."

That, Taminy knew, was an understatement. In the long history of Caraid-land, the Feich were known to be loyal only to the Feich. Whether that put them in league with the House Malcuim or against it seemed not to matter. Until now, this man would have her believe. She gazed into Daimhin Feich's fox-eyes and tried to read the depth of his loyalty to Colfre Malcuim and his country. It was difficult, for the man's inner workings were complex and ever-moving. One thing was certain; he wanted what Colfre wanted-to weaken the Osraed and to invest their powers in a new institution. Daimhin Feich would make Colfre Osric, ruler by Divine Right.

"I must tell you this," Feich continued, flushing a little under her gaze, "so you understand my ... motivation. I believe you can aid my lord in attaining what he desires and deserves."

"To be Osric."

He blinked. "Who told you that?"

She smiled, knowing the smile unnerved him. "You did. Colfre did. Although not so much with public words as with private thoughts."

He laughed. "You toy with me, lady. Unkind of you."

"I have no desire to be unkind. Colfre wants to divest the Osraed of their administrative power and take it upon himself. You want to help him."

Feich hesitated, then moved closer to her on the bench, a urgency bristling from him. "Yes. Yes, Taminy. I do want that. You say, yourself, that the Osraed have forgotten their purpose. So they have. They've become enamored of temporal leadership and have failed to give spiritual guidance to the people of Caraid-land. Only when they are forced to concentrate on the spiritual will they cease to be distracted by the material. Colfre wants what you want, Taminy-for the Osraed to return to their spiritual duties. For them to look to you for their charter. The Cyne's ends and the Meri's ends are the same. Both will be served if your innocence is proved."

He moved closer still, taking on the expression of an instructive confidant. "When you are called before the Hall tomorrow, you must present a demure, child-like picture. The way you dress, the way you stand, the expression on your face, the tone of your voice when you speak-all will contribute to this picture. Convince the Assembly that you are that, and all the Osraed accusations will appear as so much dirty smoke."

He paused, eyes downcast, seemingly uncomfortable. When he lifted them again, they were overflowing with concern. He took her hand in his gently, firmly. "The Assembly must not see the Taminy-a-Cuinn who proudly announced herself to the Osraed Body-"

"That was not pride." Her voice was firm, if not sharp.

He floundered momentarily. "Well ... well, then it was purpose. But that Taminy-a-Cuinn must not speak to the Hall."

He looked deeply into her eyes now, his grip on her hand tightening. "Do you wish to be of service to Caraid-land, Taminy? Does your purpose have a place in it for that?"

Shivers of alien alarm raised the hair on her neck and arms, but she kept her eyes on his and made her voice steady and certain. "The good of Caraid-land is my ultimate purpose, Durweard Feich. For what other reason could I or my Mistress care what the Osraed do or do not? The Osraed were to serve this people and most have forgotten how. Worse, they strive to drag the newly Chosen into forgetfulness with them."

"Then serve Cyne Colfre and you will surely serve the people."

She pulled her hand from his and rose from the bench. "By remaining silent and making no claims?"

"Your actions speak more loudly and convincingly than any words, lady. The sweetness of your conduct, the mildness of your demeanor ...Do you understand?"

She nodded, feeling his eyes along her back, flushing again at his regard. "I do understand, Durweard Feich."

"Surely, you can call me Daimhin, dear Taminy, when I have acknowledged my fondness for you."

She flushed more deeply and another unfamiliar tingle rippled through her. "Yes, Daimhin, I understand."

He rose and moved around to stand before her, capturing her hands again, holding them to his lips and kissing the tips of her fingers. In contact with its source, the tingle sharpened. He was vibrating with something akin to exhilaration, his eyes over-bright and dizzying, swarming with an energy that all but took her breath away.

He left her alone in the garden, then, to contemplate their conversation-alone, as she had been all week, except for her crowd-drawing tours with Colfre and her several visits with Toireasa and Airleas. The Riagan had apologized to her the night after his escapade, no doubt at the urging of his mother, and had stayed to ask her questions about the Meri-what She looked like and how She spoke and what it felt like to touch a person who was made of Light. She did not ask how he came to know of her claims, but merely answered his questions as best she could.

Bevol and Skeet she had not seen except in glimpses. They were not allowed to speak except in dreams where distance and walls made no difference. But, though that comforted her, it was not the same as seeing them face to face. Not the same as feeling Bevol's strong arms, protective, about her when her sense of isolation became too keen.

Taminy-Osmaer, of divine intent, was yet human and young. Loneliness sapped her in a way the constant parades and healings did not. Indeed, the daily "miracles" she had been called upon to perform revitalized her. Though she was uncomfortable with the parading and posturing, uneasy that the adoring crowds now connected her with the Cyne, it gave her the chance to Weave Healing and she was grateful. It also gave her the chance to make friends among the people of Creiddylad and its provinces. Friends she must share with Colfre for the time being.

The agitation Daimhin Feich had created in her passed as she roamed among the roses, reminding herself of the garden at Gled Manor. She was absorbed in their perfume when she heard the sounds of approach and paused, wondering if it was time for yet another parade of miracles. The Assembly members arrived day by day, and along with them more common folk who flocked to the city as if it were a site of Pilgrimage. It was not Ochanshrine they came to see, it was Taminy, the Wicke of Mertuile. And she, at her Cyne's bidding would perform for them, causing them to believe what they had only heard in rumor.

The Cyne was not alone when he entered the little garden; the Ren Catahn and Desary Hillwild were with him. Daimhin Feich trailed behind, his expression guarded. But Catahn's face held no such wariness, and his daughter's was eloquent with relief and joy. Together, they came to Taminy and fell to their knees at her feet. Both raised hands and she clasped them, palm to palm, fingers entwined. Her earlier uncertainty fled at their touch.

"My Lady," murmured Catahn, his head bowed, "you are safe."

"I am in the company of friends," she said, and could now be sure of it.

Catahn raised dark amber eyes to her face. "We are yours, Lady. What do you desire of us?"

Over the Hillwild's head, she could see Cyne Colfre's astonishment turn to glee. He glanced aslant at Feich, who merely raised his brows. She felt a prickle of anger. These people were pawns to Colfre-ciphers he would move about to obtain the sums he wanted. She pushed the anger down and smiled.

"I have no desire that your coming here hasn't fulfilled. Only stay with me a while."

"Lady," said Desary, "I would stay with you forever. Take me as your lady's maid and companion. Let me serve you."

Taminy looked from one dark face to the other, feeling their devotion as a warm, living cloak about her. Such devotion awed her to the soul. "I don't want a servant, Desary, but I would dearly love a companion and friend." She raised her eyes to Colfre. "Cyne Colfre, with your permission ... ?"

Colfre made a sweeping, gallant gesture, smiling his magnanimity at the three of them. "Of course. She shall have the chamber adjoining yours. And surely my kinsman, Catahn, can be persuaded to join us at table for the midday meal?"

Catahn rose and gifted the Cyne with a formal nod of his head. "I am persuaded, sire," he said and returned his gaze to Taminy.

"Delightful!" Colfre seemed ready to clap his hands. "We'll leave you to visit. Someone will fetch you for dinner." He turned to his Durweard. "Daimhin, to our business?"

Feich nodded, eyes wandering to the trio on the lush grass of his lord's garden. Then he followed the Cyne from sight.

"Lady-"

Catahn was halfway to his knees again when Taminy arrested him, laughing. "Please, sir, don't bow and scrape to me. I meant what I said," she added, putting an arm around Desary's shoulders. "I don't want servants; I want friends."

Catahn straightened, looking wild and dangerous among the Cyne's well-bred roses. "My Lady," he said, "you have them."

"Was that wise, my lord?"

The Daimhin Feich and his Cyne walked briskly through the corridors of Mertuile en route to the chambers of the Privy Council.

"What do you mean, Daimhin? Was what wise?"

"Leaving them alone together."