Warily, I eased my drawn bowstring and reached out to take the blade. I had not forgotten that Erdene had held a dagger to my throat and threatened to cut out my tongue during our only previous conversation, nor that she was quick and strong.

But she only smiled sadly and let go of the hilt. “Tomorrow, then?”

I took a deep breath and nodded. “I’ll be camped along the river in the southern pastures. And if you’ve sworn falsely, I will kill you.”

With that, I unspun the twilight around her, leaving only myself cloaked in it.

Erdene blinked at the return of true darkness and my sudden absence. “Tomorrow,” she said to the seemingly empty air, an edge of defiance in her voice. “And you will see! I am no oath-breaker.”

I hoped it was true.

FORTY-SEVEN

Dawn came, breaking golden over the steppe.

It did not bring a Tatar princess with it.

I waited restlessly, torn between staying and going. I’d slept poorly, anxious that I’d made a bad decision once more, wishing I had pressed Erdene harder to tell me about this mysterious Falconer fellow.

Why, oh why, had I trusted her?

I was an idiot. Oh, I could cloak myself in the twilight when I saw the Khan’s hunting-party come searching for me, and like as not I’d get away; but they would know I was there. They would pursue me. And sooner or later, I would have to sleep-and my campsite and I would be vulnerable.

I thought wistfully of home. I’d not had time to learn all the myriad possibilities that the gift of the Maghuin Dhonn Herself possessed, but I remembered that when my mother had taken me to attend the vigil at Clunderry, where we remembered Morwen’s folly and Berlik’s cruel sacrifice, there had been a celebration in a glade afterward, and the entire glade had been wrapped in the glimmering twilight.

It must have been a ward of some sort, for no one was minding it, no one was concentrating on holding the cloak in place. No, they had been reveling in the aftermath of the grave vigil, drinking uisghe, feasting, playing music, and dancing-a rare party for my folk, who seldom gathered in numbers.

I wondered how it was done.

My mother hadn’t taught it to me. Mayhap it was a gift she didn’t possess, or mayhap she hadn’t thought it necessary. I didn’t know.

Trying to distract myself as the sun inched higher above the horizon, I breathed through the cycle of the Five Styles and pondered the matter. I drew the twilight deep into my lungs, and flung it out as far as I could, encompassing the whole of my campsite, my neatly laden packs and gear.

Pushing myself, I extended it farther, encompassing my grazing horses, doing their best to find fodder in the abandoned pasture. To be sure, I had grown stronger; but I had to hold it, mindful and conscious. The moment I let my awareness lapse, it faded.

So how did they keep it in place?

Remembering Master Lo’s teaching, I forced myself to stop thinking about it, to stop worrying at it. To let my thoughts arise one by one, one thought giving birth to another. Once again, I sat cross-legged and breathed the Five Styles, accepting what thoughts came.

I would figure it out, or I would not.

Erdene would betray me, or she would not.

I would find Bao, or I would not.

A sense of calm settled over me; and strangely, it was Aleksei’s voice that nudged at my thoughts. A memory of a passage from the endless scriptures he had read to me merged with an image in my mind, an image of a compass rose etched on a map, the four cardinal points clearly marked.

Aleksei’s voice persisted, hesitant and faltering, but persistent nonetheless. For the life of the flesh is in the blood, and I have given it to you on the altar…

A compass rose, four cardinal points.

A dragon-hilted dagger, lost and restored.

All these things converged in my thoughts. “Is it that simple?” I said aloud. I opened my eyes, startled and chagrined to realize I’d had them closed for so long. A quick glance assured me that the horizon was still empty. If Erdene had betrayed me, her father’s men were not coming yet-although neither was she.

I turned my hands palm upward on my knees, gazing at them. Gazing at the blue veins in my wrists. I breathed the Breath of Earth’s Pulse.

Mayhap it was that simple.

Well and so, there was one way to find out. Rising, I called in the horses, tethering them close. I paced around my camp in a circle, glancing at the sun and marking the cardinal points of the compass in my mind.

I needed anchors.

Where that thought came from, I could not say; but it arose unbidden in my mind, the image of the compass rose now linked with that of an anchor rising from the deep, dripping with saltwater and seaweed.

Stones in the river called to me.

“All right,” I murmured. “All right, then. Stone and sea and sky, and all that they encompass. The life of the flesh is in its blood. Let us see, shall we?”

The horses watched with pricked ears and curious eyes as I shucked my boots and waded into the river, hoisting my skirts. I selected four smooth, fist-sized stones, carrying them in the apron of my skirt as I waded back to shore.

I spared another glance toward the horizon.

Still empty.

Drawing the dragon-hilted dagger that my princess Snow Tiger had given me and Bao’s princess Erdene had restored to me, I set the sharp point against the ball of my left thumb and pushed, grimacing at the sting as it pierced my skin. A bead of blood welled and gathered there. I dabbed it on one of the river-stones. Another rose to take its place, another and another, until all the smooth stones were anointed.

I stuck my thumb in my mouth, contemplating them.

Anchors.

The word felt right, the stones felt right. Beneath the mildly curious gazes of my horses, I retraced the steps of my circle, placing one blood-smeared stone at each of the four cardinal points of the compass.

I retreated to the center, and summoned the twilight.

The anchor-stones flared to life, setting and holding the cloak of the twilight within their compass. Even when I released my conscious hold on it, it remained in place.

“Ha!” I felt a fierce grin split my face. “I am learning, Great One,” I said, bowing toward the west where the Maghuin Dhonn Herself resided. “I am Your child. Always and always, I am trying to do Your will, no matter how hard I find it. And always and always, I am grateful for Your gifts. I will try…”

I heard hoofbeats.

Glancing toward the east, I saw a rider approaching, a lone rider, small and sturdy in the saddle.

Erdene.

Late though she was, she hadn’t lied. She had come alone. I saw the familiar shape of the yew-wood bow my uncle Mabon had made for me slung over her shoulder, the battered canvas satchel I had carried for so long tied to her saddle. I watched her slow her mount, gazing about nervously as she neared my campsite.

I blew out my breath, deliberately banishing the twilight and extinguishing the anchor-points.

A sharp gasp escaped her. “Moirin!”

“Aye, my lady.”

“I’m late,” Erdene said simply, dismounting in the bright sunlight. “I’m sorry. And you’re… real.”

“So I am,” I agreed. “And you are no oath-breaker. I apologize for doubting you.”

She handed over my bow and quiver, and set about untying the satchel. “I cannot say I blame you.”

I ran my fingers over the well-worn wood of my bow, reveling in the smooth feel of it. “Tell me about this Falconer.”

“His kingdom lies in the Abode of the Gods.” Erdene tugged the satchel free and hauled it over to sit cross-legged opposite me.

I took the satchel and gave her an inquiring look. “Oh?”