Let this commandment be a Covenant between you and Me: Have faith. Let your faith be immovable as a rock that no storms may harass, that nothing can shake, that will abide to the cessation of all things. As your faith is, so shall your blessings and powers be. This is Harmony. This is the greatest Duan.

- The Corah

Book I, Verse 10

Ealad-hach shivered, though the Hall was far from chill. Giant hearths radiated warmth on this fog-gray day, but it never reached the old Osraed in his witness box. He fumed a bit, still, about the lateness of his arrival in Creiddylad. He'd had time to speak to no one but Ladhar, who confirmed his worst fears: The Cyne had been engaged in a campaign of propaganda all week-a campaign to establish Taminy-a-Cuinn in the hearts of his people. He had primed the Assembly, as well, or at least a good half of it, with his own version of the Nairnian trials; only the Osraed and Cleirachs knew, with any certainty, of the abominable claims the wretched girl had made at Halig-liath.

Ealad-hach's gaze drifted through the huge oblong hall from quarter to quarter. To the West sat the Osraed; to the East, the Ministers; to the North was the Eiric quarter, representing landowners and businessmen; to the South, the Chieftains of the noble Houses-Claeg, Graegam, Glinne, Cuilean, Madaidh, Skarf and others, even the Hillwild were represented by the elder Chieftain of the Hageswode, the Ren Catahn's blood uncle.

The old Osraed grimaced with disgust. There was much shared blood among the Hillwild, for they rarely married out of the Gyldan-baenn. Small wonder such inbreds developed superstitious cravings for arboreal goddesses who would take up Hillwild causes and empower their fey leadership. His eyes roved the public galleries situated on two flanks of the hall between the Assembly quarters where others, who craved a supposed saint's benediction, jostled each other to receive her glance.

She came to her own box then-a flower-decked stall in the rounded northwestern corner of the Hall, situated at the right hand of the Throne. The Hillwild girl was at her side, as worshipful a pawn as her father, who sat in the southwestern gallery reserved for the Throne's special guests.

The crowd at the far end of the Hall, seeing their miracle-worker, went into a frenzy of adulation, calling to her, beseeching her, waving flowers at her-roses, all. And the Cyne-the stupid, dim-sighted young Malcuim Cyne-sat and grinned like a Prentice at Farewelling, confident he had a prize in his grasp. Whatever did he think-that with a powerful Wicke at his side, he could overthrow the spiritual institutions of Caraid-land and subvert its religion? Did he fancy the Cwen Toireasa, whose father sat in the Privy Council, would simply disappear while he pursued a relationship with this Dark Sister?

Ealad-hach glanced furtively at the Cwen, seated to her lord's left. Her face was composed, as always-smooth as pale silk. There was no indication that she sensed what her husband was about. Poor wretch. Surely the Meri would not allow it. Surely all things would work to ultimate good.

He heard his name called and realized the adoring crowd had been silenced. He moved to the circular speaker's box at the center of the room and timorously began to present his testimony. He told the story straight out, chronologically, from the time he first became aware of Taminy. He spoke of her oddness, the little miracles, the runebags and his initial suspicions. He told of how he'd tested her at Nairne Cirke and of Aine-mac-Lorimer's accident and of his aislinn and of the eventual trial.

All the while, he looked to Osraed Ladhar for support and found it readily given. Heartened, he began to give the details of the inquiry at Halig-liath when the Cyne stopped him.

"Enough. Enough for now. You have recounted her miracles-we, here, have seen many of those also, have we not?"

The crowd of observers, and indeed, some of the representatives to the Hall cheered at that, and Ealad-hach could only stare at them mutely, his eyes hopping from one eager face to another.

Dear God, his testimony had only made her more a goddess. These people gazed down on that fragile, flower-like face of hers and saw an Eibhilin personage-a Gwenwyvar, a Gwyr, even (Spirit help them!) the Meri, Herself. And how could they not, when that was exactly how she appeared-hair curried to a veil of pale gold, heaven-blue dress contrasting flesh like flower petals.

He wanted to commit violence on her at that moment. He wanted to rush the royal platform and throttle life from the Lie. He wanted to shake her until she dropped her facade and appeared as she surely must be-hideous, stark and colorless. More than that, more-he wanted to beat the beautiful face to horrible, bloody, truthful submission.

His eyes swept the three corner galleries, searching for any face that showed something other than whole-hearted acceptance of the Lie. What they found, instead, was the face of the iron-gray woman, the woman who had panicked him so at Halig-liath. Opaque, shuttered, her sheeny metallic eyes were depthless. Before, he thought he had only mistaken her for a Wicke, now he knew her to be one. And he remembered the name that went with that aging, ageless face-Lufu Hageswode. The Gifted daughter of the Hillwild Renic, Bana-Meg, she had been brought by her mother to Creiddylad's environs that she might be of service to the Osraed there. At the age of fifteen, she had become Mam Lufu, "Mother Love," called "The Solace of the Poor." A saint, some said-a Wicke, the Osraed had decided.

All two centuries ago.

"Osraed Ealad-hach, are you ill?"

He woke his stunned being, whipped up his senses. "What, sire? Pardon. Pardon, sire. The noise. It ... it disorients me."

"I asked you, noble Osraed, to lay forth your charges."

"My-? But sire, I haven't finished with my evidence. You must hear-"

"We have heard enough."

"Sire, she claims-"

"Order, please!" Acting in his capacity as Durweard, Daimhin Feich stood and rapped his staff sharply on the polished wooden planks of the royal dais. "The Cyne has requested that you name your charges, Osraed."

Ealad-hach shook his head. Cold, frantic terror leapt to his throat. "Don't you see what's happening? Sire, we are surrounded by Wicke! In the gallery there," -he pointed- "I have seen yet another of them! A woman who-!" He cut off, realizing how absurd it would sound, and scrambled within to retrieve his dignity and control. They must not think him a wild-eyed fool. If they had not yet heard Taminy's claims, they would think his ridiculous.

"A woman who?" repeated the Durweard.

Ealad-hach glowered. "You would not believe me."

"Then, name your charges," Feich repeated.

"Very well, Durweard. I charge this young woman with practicing the Wicke Craft, with heresy, and with treason against the House Malcuim and the government of Caraid-land."

What had he expected? That they might applaud him? That they would hum and haw like ruminative wise men, then look calmly into his charges? He had not expected any of those things, yet neither had he expected a complete breakdown of order. That was what he got.

He withdrew amid a roar of hostility, thinking, So few. So few there are who see.

Osraed Eadmund was well-acquainted with fear. It seemed he renewed the acquaintance daily now, and he nodded at it again while Ealad-hach addressed the Assembly. Seated next to Bevol among the other Osraed representatives to the Hall, he had all but folded over in his chair when Ealad-hach turned to look at him-directly at him-and tried to catch his eye.

He felt no better now, as the elder Osraed removed himself from the speaker's dais. The public galleries were alive with hoots and cat-calls, giving the great chamber an almost festive atmosphere, but through it all, Eadmund could feel Ealad-hach's hatred of Taminy unfurling behind him in a smoky black wake. He found the hatred frightening, more so because he knew it was a shared thing, being fed by some of the very men who occupied the Osraed gallery with him. He was amazed at his own sensibilities; he could almost see the emotion as smudgy tendrils reaching towards Taminy's box. He wished he could Weave a shield around it.

The Cyne called up his witnesses. They told of miracles great and small-so many, so frequently in the last week, the listeners must have been tempted to think, "Well, of course, she performed miracles! What else would one expect her to do?"

Cyne Colfre himself gave testimony as well, describing the Episode of the Rosebud, which Ealad-hach had related somewhat lopsidedly as an attempt by Taminy to dupe the citizens of Nairne. And he related the events at Ochanshrine, making Eadmund break into a cold sweat and tremble like a newborn foal. He even called upon Abbod Ladhar to corroborate his story. The Abbod did so, but grudgingly.

Then, Eadmund heard Durweard Feich's voice making the ritual call to the Hall for fair judgment. The hearing was over. The young Osraed shifted in his seat, puzzled at the omission of Taminy's claims-claims he had heard as clear as Cirke-chimes at her inquiry, claims Ealad-hach had spelled out in stark clarity in his letter to the Abbod. He glanced sideways at Osraed Bevol and saw that the elder Counselor was already coming to his feet.

"Wait, lord!" Bevol called. "Should we not hear from the cailin herself? Should not Taminy be allowed to speak on her own behalf?"

The public approved this loudly and many Assembly members added their overwhelming and curious assent. The Cyne hesitated. Then, with a smile that could have melted metal hearts, he gestured for Taminy to stand and address the Assemblage.

In the public gallery, people crowded against the heavy wooden balustrade, holding their breath. Durweard Feich, Eadmund noted, did more than hold his breath. He gripped his staff so tightly his knuckles showed white. His eyes were on Taminy, who rose as bidden and gazed around the hall, her own eyes seeming to touch each face as they had done that day at Halig-liath.

She spoke then, in a voice that was clear and sure. "I am Taminy-a-Cuinn of whom it has been said, 'She is a Wicke.' I am not a Wicke. I was a Prentice at Halig-liath during the reign of-"

Durweard Feich and the Cyne both moved to snatch her attention. She glanced at them and smiled. Eadmund almost smiled with her.

"I was a Prentice at Halig-liath," she repeated. "My father was Osraed and the Council allowed my studies to please him, somewhat against their best judgment. I am grateful to them for that. I was later expelled from Halig-liath by the Osraed Council before I could complete my Prenticeship."

The audience hissed and grumbled at this; Cyne Colfre smiled and most of the Osraed around Eadmund cringed and made sour faces.

"I went on a forbidden Pilgrimage," Taminy continued, then paused, face lowered as if in reflection. When she raised her eyes again, tears sparkled there. "My father returned alone and told the Osraed Council I had drowned, because they could not be told the truth."

Durweard Feich came swiftly to his feet. "A sad tale, dear cailin. We now see how you have suffered at the hands of the Osraed. Their cruelty does not bear further hearing."

Taminy turned to him. "But I've not finished my Tell."

"Let her speak," said Bevol quietly.

"Yes!" The Ren Catahn stood among the royal guests. "Let her speak. Let us all hear what she has to say."

"Really," interrupted Cyne Colfre, "it's hardly necessary. We can see she's innocent."

"Can we?" shouted Minister Cadder. "Let her speak!"

It became a chant. A chant Eadmund found even on his own lips. "Let her speak! Let her speak!"

Durweard Feich pounded his staff for order, but order could not be had. Friend and foe alike roared for Taminy to continue. Feich gave up and sat down to glare balefully at his Cyne. The moment he sat, the crowd quieted.

In the relative silence, Cwen Toireasa, who had been only a bystander, looked from her mute husband to his grim Durweard and shook her head. She gestured at Taminy. "Go on, Taminy. You said it was thought you drowned. Since that was obviously a lie, let us now hear the truth."

Taminy looked out at the Assemblage-the curious and the eager and the fearful and the hateful and said, "I am Taminy-a-Cuinn, daughter of Osraed Coluim-a-Cuinn, Cirkemaster of Nairne during the reign of Cyne Thearl. It was said of me that I drowned a hundred years past. I drowned only in the Meri's glory. I entered the Sea of Light only to become one with it. I, Taminy-a-Cuinn, became and was these hundred years, the Vessel of the Emerald Meri. I have returned as Taminy-Osmaer-Divinely Glorious. That is my new name. That is my Station."

The room erupted. Not a body remained seated; not a soul remained calm. Taminy-Osmaer brought a roar from the throat of the Hall that had never before been heard. The Assembly of Caraid-land was reduced to a boiling rabble.

Amid that turbulent sea, the Ren Catahn made his way from the southwest corner of the Hall to where his daughter and Taminy stood. His face was dark with anger and fear. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword.

It was Osraed Bevol who quieted them. He came to the speaker's dais and, climbing upon it, waved the crowd to silence.

There was more than mere will in his gestures, Eadmund knew. He felt the fabric of the Runeweave, soft and silken. It sounded of pines playing the passing wind and smelled of summer meadows. The crowd let itself be lulled.

Then Bevol held up his hands and cried, "Have you nothing to say? Are you wordless, able to utter only animal sounds? Perhaps you are all bewicked, your mouths woven shut by this hideous creature?" He gestured at Taminy, who still stood in her box, her expression unchanged.

Osraed Ladhar rose ponderously to his feet and grasped the rail before him. "I will speak. Do you endorse this cailin and her claims, Osraed Bevol?"

"I do."

A murmur traversed the galleries.

"Then you are misled, Brother, for she makes a heretic of you."

There was some assent to that, but it had gained little momentum before Catahn Hillwild halted it. He took several long strides away from Taminy's box into the middle of the floor.

"The Hillwild," he said, "stand behind the Lady of the Crystal Rose, ready to serve her. We, too, endorse her and her claims."

Eadmund's entrails clutched painfully as a sweep of vertigo passed over him. The Crystal Rose! That was her emblem emblazoned in this early morning's sky. And hadn't he known it?

He vaguely heard the Osraed Lealbhallain and Fhada endorse Taminy, saw the two of them pale and sweating, step away from the press of bodies in the guest gallery. He felt his own body move, felt it rise to unsteady feet. What should he do?

"I don't understand her claims," protested the Eiric Selbyr, and from the Minister's northern gallery, the Cleirach Cadder cried, "What need to understand them? They are pure, lying evil!"

Arguing broke out then, as Eadmund tottered among his peers. Sides and exception were taken in loud voices and words eloquent and ineloquent. Dizzied by the swirl of dissension, Eadmund made his way to the rail of the western gallery.

"Please!" he choked, then cleared his throat. "Please!" Eyes turned to him, snarls died to growls. "Why must we do battle over this girl? The Covenant of the Meri is clear; we will not be left unguided in the face of evil. That same Covenant is equally clear on the nature of evil: Evil cannot undertake the causes of good."

"Do you say," asked Ladhar from beside him, "that she is good?"

"I say," said Eadmund, and was sure he must melt under Ladhar's gaze, "that she has Woven miracles in the presence of many, myself included. If these miracles produce good results, then their source must, itself, be good. If they produce ultimately evil results, then, and only then, can we condemn their source as evil. Have her miracles produced good results or ill?"

There was some shoving in the public gallery and a woman's voice cried, "Good! She is good!" A chorus of other voices joined in.

Ladhar roared. "Her miracles have brought disunity and uncertainty to the members of this Assembly, to the members of the Osraed Body, to this entire country. That is pure evil!"

"But are those the ends?" argued Eadmund. "Are those the ultimate results of her work? Can we say, now, that she will not cause us to consider our own works and strive harder to perfect them? If she is of God, she must prevail, and in fighting her, we wrong her and we wrong God. If she is not of God, she will soon destroy herself, for evil does, ultimately, destroy itself."

He made the mistake of glancing into the Abbod's face and his words failed him. "Please ... can't we just leave her alone and-and wait to see what happens?"

From the floor, Bevol leveled a finger at him. "Feeble! Lukewarm! You vacillate, brother! You hide behind your fears!"

Yes, I do! cried Eadmund's silent spirit. I do hide!

Bevol continued to rebuke him. "Such half-hearted rejection is unworthy of the Meri's Chosen. Look at her, man!" He smote his fist on the balustrade of the speaker's box with a loud crack that caused the entire chamber to jump. "Study her. Interrogate her. Test her, if you will. But by the God of the Meri, decide about her!" He came down from the dais and strode the floor, reproving each of the four Assembly galleries. "Dismantle everything she has said and done," he told them. "Sift through it. Tear it apart and put it back together again. Then, Pillars of the Hall-THEN-either reject her," -he swung to point an out-thrust finger at Taminy- "or accept her."

"Study her? Test her?" Caime Cadder launched himself out of the Ministers' gallery and onto the floor, advancing toward Bevol and Taminy. "Ludicrous! A waste of our time! Pillars of the Hall, listen to me-Bevol distracts you with rhetoric." He came face to face with Bevol before Taminy's box. "Distracts you from the one pertinent detail in which this girl is lacking." He turned to point a trembling finger into Taminy's face. "This girl bears no Kiss! The Meri has never touched her!"

The observation caused the room to erupt again, and Cadder used the frenzy to bring himself closer to Taminy. Before Bevol could interfere, the Cleirach grasped her arm and attempted to drag her from the box. "Look at her face! Look at it! There is no mark there! There is no Kiss! She lies! She lies!"

In the roar and rage of the crowd, Cadder's snarls were lost. He shook Taminy harder, setting off a frenzy of movement among her nearby supporters. But frenzy exploded into chaos when, from the girl's forehead, issued a flash of light-pale, emerald and too bright to look upon. Cadder shrieked and stumbled backward to the floor, rubbing his eyes frantically. The crowd cared little for him. Their eyes were on Taminy, who stood on her dais, the stellate mark on her brow shedding its Eibhilin gleam over all.

The chaos collapsed into a tingling, awful hush. No voice spoke; no body moved to creak a bench, scuff a heel, rustle a cloak. All watched as the light pulsed and dimmed but did not vanish. No newly chosen Osraed had ever had a Kiss so bright.

Eadmund looked at it with longing.

Bevol spoke. "It seems that Minister Cadder is wrong. There is no detail in which Taminy is lacking, no sign she cannot show you."

"Lies!" Cadder lifted himself from the floor, blinking tears from his light-scalded eyes. "I will not believe her to be divine!"

Bevol shook his head, then addressed the assemblage. "What sign would you like to see next, before deciding about Taminy-Osmaer? She could perform any task if it would make you believe her Tell. But what good does it do? One test after another she passes; one sign after another she shows, and still you balk. Show us this, show us that! And when you are shown, you cavil and ask to be shown something more. These shows of miracles are useless. If they are proof, they are proof only to those whose lives they touch. Do not test Taminy-Osmaer with miracles and shows of power. Do not question her ability to show you greater and greater marvels. Test her spirit. Question her purpose. That, venerable Pillars, is your test." He gave the Cyne curt bow and left the Hall through the western doors.

Colfre came shakily to his feet. "Well," he said. "Well ...We have seen ... great wonders. But-but Osraed Bevol is correct. You," he raised his eyes to the galleries, "must compose your questions. Whatever questions you deem fitting to ask ... this young woman." He turned to his Durweard then. "Daimhin, kindly dismiss the Assembly." He afforded Taminy one bemused glance before retiring from the throne.

"I thought you said she understood." Colfre did not wait for his Durweard to close the door to the salon.

"She said she understood." Feich's demeanor was cool and collected which thoroughly irritated his Cyne. "I believe she did understand."

"And merely forgot?"

Feich shook his head. "My lord, you saw what happened. She was silent until Bevol encouraged her. And she didn't ... display that ... sign until Cadder pressed her."

"Pressed her! The man attacked her! In my presence! Fanatical idiot." The Cyne paused to chew his lip. "It could work out for the best, though. Ealad-hach made the Osraed look ludicrous and Bevol, with his insulting sermonizing, simply added to that impression."

"Sire, I think you overlook an important point. We were not in control of that situation." He gestured in the general direction of the Assembly Hall.