Mace had been gone five days now, riding for Ganmiddich with a thousand men. Tomorrow a second thousand would leave with Grim Shank at their head.

Realizing she needed to attend the departing warriors, Raina made a quick decision about the stone. She would leave it in the far corner, uncovered, and in full sight. To slide it back in the pack and conceal it would only draw attention to it if it were found. This way it would just be a wayward chunk of stone. She doubted very much that any Scarpeman besides Stannig Beade would be capable of recognizing it as Hailstone. But a Hailsman or Hailswoman would know it, and that was perhaps enough.

The wedge-shaped piece of Hailstone fitted perfectly in the corner and to Raina it seemed as if it were drawing shadows around itself, for when she stepped back she could no longer see it clearly. It had become part of the foundation, a slightly irregular chunk in the wall. She had thought she might speak a prayer but now that it came to it she had none to offer. The Stone Gods either knew what she did, or didn't They either judged it right or wrong. No poorly worded prayer would change that.

Scooping up the shoulder pack and the safelamp, Raina crossed to the entry portal. The stone tile was easier to set in motion from inside for a small depression cut into the face provided traction for the fingers. Within seconds Raina was back in the foundation space, once again knee-deep in water. Freed from the weight of the stone she felt oddly light and miscalculated the force needed to walk. The water sloshed a lot and twice she nearly tipped over. Drunk she decided. Alcohol optional. Now she came to think of it though, a good strong dram of Anwyn's twenty-year malt would be just the thing. Her nerves deserved it.

Reaching the narrow gap between stone pillars that led up toward the living spaces, Raina let down her skirts. It wouldn't do for a chiefs wife to be seen baring her thighs. It wouldn't do for her to be seen down here at all, but once she reached the upper cellars where the dry cells were located she was in the clear. "Just checking on the butter stores for Anwyn" would do it, either that or "Longhead's still worried about flooding, and I thought I'd take a look at it for myself."

When she reached the stairs she sat, pulled off her boots and drained the water. Her toes were white and wrinkled. The boots were drenched and would need to be carefully stretched as they dried. Once they were back on her feet she ran up the stairs and along the landing, the safelamp swinging giddily in her hand. One more flight of stairs to go and she'd be aboveground in the land of the living.

"Woman."

She spun in the direction of the voice. Along the corridor all was shadow. The person who spoke did not carry a light.

Stannig Beade stepped into the halo created by Raina's lamp. As always she was surprised that he was a clan guide, for he had the shoulder breadth and muscle of a hatchetman. He was wearing his ceremonial cloak, the black boarskin burned ragged at the hem. His tattooed and needle-pocked cheeks trapped the lamplight and gave you nowhere to look save his eyes.

"Stannig." Raina was pleased with how strong her voice sounded. Resisting the urge to draw the shoulder pack behind her skirts she said, "If you will excuse me I have work to do in the stables. Good day." She turned her back on him and nearly got away, but he stopped her with a question.

"Did you fall?" He waited until she had turned back to face him before dropping his gaze to her sopping skirts.

She shrugged. "Work."

He let the silence spin out, breathing possessively, claiming the air between them. "I see." His hands twitched. Raina could see the stone dust wedged beneath his fingernails. "I have been looking for you. Someone said they had seen you slip belowground at noon." He paused, letting her know that it was now a long time after noon. "I had not thought to find you here."

"Yet still you looked." It was a mistake to challenge him and she wished she could take it back.

Again his hands twitched. "I believe you are unhappy with the removal of the Hailstone."

Merritt Ganlow. Raina could hardly fathom it She and Merritt had been friends for twenty years; their husbands had shared a tent the day they died. How could Merritt do this? How could she talk to this man about their private conversations?

Stannig Beade watched Raina compose herself, his expression fixed, his dark eyes gleaming with animal triumph.

Raina took a deep breath. Think, she told herself. Think. "I have some concerns, I will not hide that. To grind the stone to nothing and dump it in the lake seems… unceremonious."

Stannig Bead brought a hand to his face and tapped his chin. "Unceremonious," he repeated, giving the word a sharp little twist. "A chiefs wife concerned with matters of the gods… how… unusual."

Raina felt her face grow hot.

It appeared to be the outcome he was hoping for, as he nodded once, to himself. "Seems I have chosen the right person after all."

She would not give him the satisfaction of asking what he meant. Stomach sinking, skirts dripping water onto the floor, she waited.

Stannig Beade was unperturbed. Moving his powerful shoulders in a relaxed shrug, he said, "The ceremony to hallow the new Hailstone requires a person of high honor to light the Menhir Fire. Commonly it is custom for the clan chief to hold the torch, but as you are aware your husband is at war. I have given long thought to the matter of who should stand in for him, and spoken with many people in the clan. Time and time again a name came up. She is the one held in deepest respect. She is the one whose presence is most valued. She is the who will bring the highest honor to the ceremony." The clan guide of Scarpe and now Blackhail looked Raina straight in the eye. "I know you would not want to disappoint your clansmen and clanswomen, Raina Blackhail, so I will assume on Menhir Night you will stand at my side and aid me in presenting the new Hailstone to the gods."

He did not wait for her answer, just bowed a sharp dismissal and left her standing in the corridor alone.

She watched dust roused by his footsteps settle and knew she had been outmaneuvered by an expert. Stannig Beade would use her standing in this clan to strengthen his position and validate the new guidestone. She could hear her clansmen now:

"Well, I was against it, I admit But there's Raina at Beade's side and we all know she's not a woman to give her support lightly.."

"Aye. If the new stones good enough for Raina Blackhail it'll do for me."

Aware she was swaying slightly, Raina sent out a hand to brace herself against the wall. She could not refuse Stannig Beade, for she had heard the warning in his voice: Refuse and all will know it. You will fracture the clan and reveal your ambition … and what good will that do you on Mace's return?

If Mace ever did return. If he died in battle it would suit Beade well enough. The Scarpe guide was already beginning to act like a chief.

Raina gave a little cry of fright as the flame in her safelamp went out.