The body shifted in the darkness; the chair creaked. “Not yet. What did you do in the orchard?”

“I told you. I wanted to see about the apples.”

“Bah! I know about the apples. What else?”

“Nothing else.”

“Do not lie to me, Morgian. I know you too well.”

“Annubi, let me bring the light!”

“What else?”

Morgian paused. “I went to the caldron.”

“And?”

“And nothing,” Morgian sighed. “There was nothing.”

“Nothing but flames and smoke and vapor… and shapes. What shapes, Morgian?”

“I saw nothing today. There were no shapes.”

“You should have come to me, girl. I would have shown you what you were so eager to see. I would have let you touch the Lia Fail.”

“I prefer the caldron,” muttered Morgian sullenly.

“You know,” Annubi continued, “Charis had the touch. Once. As a girl she often used the stone-the seeing stone, she called it. Sometimes when she thought I did not know she would come to my room. I never troubled to hide it from her. She used it…” The seer lapsed into silence. Morgian moved in her chair and Annubi started. “You should trust me more, child.”

“I trust you, Annubi,” she said softly. “Are you hungry? I will go to the kitchens for food”

“No,” said Annubi. There was a rustling of clothing as the seer stood. “Tonight I will dine with the king. Come, Morgian, let us go down together.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Day by day the spring passed and summer came on. The green deepened on the hillside where sheep and cattle grazed; and in the low valleys the com sprouted and grew into stalks. All the marshland round about the Fisher King’s Tor rang with larksong and blackbird calls. Deer in new velvet ran through woods of beech and hawthorn; black-footed fox chased quail and pheasant through the brake; wild pigs furtively herded their squealing young along the thicket-bound trails; speckled trout leapt in the streams, and pike flashed in the reed-encircled lake.

Taliesin waited at the shrine of the Savior God for Charis to come to him.

While he waited he worked with the pilgrim priests rebuilding the shrine. Most of the shrine’s timbers had been replaced, as had the wicker wattle between the timbers which had then been redaubed with the mud-and-straw mixture and limed. Work was now proceeding on the roof, for which Taliesin and Dafyd were occupied-wading in the bogs, cutting last year’s dried reeds and stacking them in bundles.

The work was not overtaxing and allowed Taliesin to give his thoughts freedom to fly where they would, whether to ponder points of Dafyd’s philosophy or to compose the songs he sometimes sang aloud to the priests’ chorused acclaim. But always his mind turned to thoughts of his people as they took possession of their new lands. And each day, when Charis did not come, his hope dwindled, shrinking away gradually, like the silver dew drying up drop by shining drop in the heat of the day.

“In truth,” he told Dafyd one morning, “I did not think to wait this long. I am needed by my people. I told her I would wait, but… I can wait no longer.” He looked across to the palace on Tor, misty in the morning light, its walls and towers forming a dense and featureless silhouette against the white-gold sky. “She knows I am waiting. Why does she not come?”

“Perhaps it is as she said,” suggested the priest gently; he had marked Taliesin’s growing disquiet. “Or perhaps there is some other reason.”

“Morgian,” uttered Taliesin darkly.

“No. I meant perhaps she is prevented from coming.”

“I was wrong to trust her. I should have gone myself. Well, that is one error soon put right.” Taliesin stood abruptly.

Dafyd put out his hand and pulled the bard down again. “Sit easy, Taliesin. We do not know how the matter stands. Let me go to the Tor and see for myself how it is. I will soon discern the truth of the matter”

Taliesin hesitated. “We will together.”

“-and I will come back and tell you what I have discovered.”

Still Taliesin hesitated. “I do not mean to steal her for myself, you mad druid!”

Taliesin blushed. “Very well, I have waited this long-I can wait a little longer.”

Taliesin saddled his horse and the priest mounted up, saying, “I will return as soon as may be.”

Charis stood at her window beside the merlin’s perch, stroking the bird’s feathers when she saw a rider approaching the Tor over the causeway across the marshland, and her heart quickened. She watched the black horse until it was lost from sight, cantering up the winding track, and knew that Taliesin had come for her.

Avallach must not seem him! she thought, dashing from the room to meet him in the courtyard before he reached the palace. But it was not Taliesin astride the prancing black. “Dafyd,” she said running up. “How is it that you ride Taliesin’s horse? I told him I would send word. Why has he come back?”

“Lady, he has never left!” replied the priest in surprise.

“What do you mean? I sent the groom Ranen with the message. I told him”

Dafyd shook his head gently. “Perhaps you sent by Ranen, but it was Morgian who brought it.”

“Morgian again! What has she done?”

“She told Taliesin that you would never come. He could not accept that from her and waits at the shrine for word from you.”

“But I am made prisoner here,” she explained hurriedly. “Avallach has set himself against our union and will not let me leave. I thought to soften his heart, but” She looked pleadingly at the priest. “Is he much disheartened?”

“No,” Dafyd reassured her. “You know how he is.”

“Still, I must go to him at once.”

“How? If Avallach must be appeased, I might speak with him on your behalf.”

Charis shook her head. “He will not be persuaded; I know that now.”

“Your father loves you, Charis. I would see you reconciled.”

“Would love keep me captive?” She saw from the priest’s expression that she was right. “I thought not. He and Morgian have conspired against me in this; they have no care for me or my happiness.

“In time,” she continued, “Avallach may be reconciled, but it is not right that I should be kept here against my will.”

“I understand.”

“Will you help?”

“In any way I can, Charis, but openly and without deception.”

“That is all I ask,” she said. “Go to his chamber and speak with him-about anything at all-only give me a little time to gather my things.”

“You mean to leave now?”

“I know that I must go now or I never will,” she said. “When you are finished, go back to the shrine by the way you came. I will be waiting for you outside the gates. Have no fear-no one will see you leave with me.”

The priest nodded and went into the palace. Charis went directly to her room and took up a small myrtlewood chest, set it on her bed and opened it, thinking to begin filling it with her things. She stood looking at the empty chest. “No,” she thought, “if I take my things with me Avallach will Believe that I mean never to return. I must not destroy his hope or give him cause to hate me.”

She glanced across the room to the merlin sitting on its perch by the window. “Come, bright one; you will accompany me at least,” she said, wrapping the soft leather band around her arm. She lifted the hawk and hurried out.

Taliesin saw them coming from a distance and ran to meet them, splashing across the stream to grab Charis and pull her from her place behind the saddle. He hugged her and spun around with her in his arms, water splashing everywhere. And when he stopped spinning, he kissed her. She buried her face in the hollow of his throat. “Oh, Taliesin, I am so sorry. Morgian”

“I know,” he said, kissing her again. “But that is my own fault-still, it does not matter now. We are together!”

Charis pulled away. “I come here alone, Taliesin. If I go with you I go alone.”