As if reading Charis’ thoughts, Lile turned to her and said, “You are not alone now, Charis. I will help you all I can. Where do we start?”

“I have been thinking about that,” answered Charis, and they began walking back to the palace. “Clothing, tools, food-those are all important. But I think we start in my mother’s library. There are books there that should be saved.”

“I agree. Knowledge will serve us better where we are going” She broke off with a strange smile.

“What is it?”

“How can we begin preparing for the doom of our race if we have no idea where we are going?”

“West, I think,” replied Charis. “There are lands there much like these, I am told, and little inhabited. We will be able to make a life there much like the one we know here.”

“Or better,” said Lile, and Charis noticed the set of her jaw as she said it.

“Tell me,” said Charis. “Do you believe me-about Throm’s prophecy?”

“Of course,” replied Lile. “Should I not?”

“No one else does.”

“Then they deserve their fate,” muttered Lile darkly. Her expression was fleeting but unmistakably fierce. Cold hatred gleamed in the dark depths of Lile’s eyes.

Was this the beast that watched from the shadows? wondered Charis. Have I made a mistake telling her?

But Lile smiled and the beast, if it was there, withdrew to the shadows once more. “You ask why I Believe you? I will tell you. All my life I have known that this would happen. I have carried the knowledge within me” She raised a hand to touch her heart. “I did not dare hope that I would see it, but I knew it. I felt it. Even when I was very small, I looked out on the world and knew that I looked at a world that could not last. When you told me just now, I knew that it was true, for your words merely confirmed what I already guessed.”

“This will be the trial you asked for then,” said Charis. “Everything I value in life, I have placed in your hands.”

“No, not everything.” Lile touched her gently on the side. Charis winced. “Trust me to help you, Charis. I can heal your injury. You will need your full strength in the days to come. I can give it to you much sooner.”

Charis hesitated, then relented. “What you say is true. You have your way, Lile.”

“I will not fail you, Charis. Believe me.”

“I will try,” promised Charis. “Believe me.”

Charis’ trust was rewarded and Lile proved true to her word and to her skill, for the chirurgia was flawlessly successful and Charis recovered rapidly. A few days after the bandages were removed, Annubi found Charis sitting cross-legged among a pile of vellum scrolls, her chin in her palm, scanning studiously the unrolled document before her. He watched her for a moment and then entered the disheveled library.

She glanced up as he approached. “Oh, Annubi, what word? Something from Belyn?”

“No.” He shook his head.

“About the stars?”

“No, nothing yet.”

“What then?”

“About you, Charis.”

“About me?”

“You told Lile about the cataclysm.”

“Yes, I did. Why?”

The seer sighed, dragged a chair across the littered floor, and collapsed onto it.

“Why?” insisted Charis. “Have I done something wrong?”

He shook his head wearily and passed a hand over his eyes. “I cannot see anymore.” This admission came so casually that at first Charis did not realize the import of his words.

“Why was it wrong? I thought it best to” She stopped. Annubi sat as if his chest had collapsed; his shoulders slumped and his long fingers twitched in his lap. “Annubi, what has happened?”

“I cannot see anymore,” he said, spitting each bitter word. “The Lia Fail is dark to me. There is no light anymore.”

“You are overtired,” offered Charis, setting aside the manuscript. “I have pushed you too hard-asked too much. You will rest and it will come back.”

“No,” he groaned. “I know it will not.” He paused and then lifted his shoulders in a gesture of hopelessness. “But that is not why I came.”

“You said I should not have told Lile. Why? What has she done?”

“I found her in my room-with the Lia Fail. I was angry. I shoved her… I wanted… to kill her…” He shook his head in disBelief. “I did this. I, Annubi! I have never lifted a hand against another living being in all my life.”

“What did she do?”

“She laughed at me,” he muttered, his eyes squeezed shut. “She laughed and told me I had lost.”

“Lost the sight?”

“Lost you.”

Charis’ stomach tightened. “What then?”

“She left. I could hear her laughing in the corridor.” He put his hands to his head as if to stop the sound.

“Oh, Annubi, I am sorry. I would never have told her if I had known.” Charis pitied her old friend, but even as her heart went out to him in his misery she could not help asking, “Is there any way you could possibly be mistaken?”

“Mistaken!” The king’s advisor reared up; the chair clattered backwards. “She has won you! Curse the day I ever saw her!”

“Annubi, please, I only meant that perhaps there might be some other explanation.”

“I have lost the sight and my mind as well, eh?”

“No, of course not.”

He stiffened, his fists clenched at his side. “She has won, Charis. First your father and now you.” He turned and stormed from the room.

Charis sat where she was, unmoved. I must confront her, she thought. I must go to her at once and… and what? What? Tell her Annubi has lost the sight and thinks she has won? Even if it is true, it would be just the sort of admission she would be looking for. No, I cannot let on that I know about this. I cannot let her know… but what do I know? What has Annubi told me really? There might still be some other explanation. Perhaps it is as Lile said-he resents her and twists her words to discredit her. Perhaps there is some other reason.

In any case, she thought, I said I would trust her. I cannot go to her now without dishonoring my own word. Poor Annubi, he will just have to suffer a little longer. I cannot help him, and there are more important matters at hand.

She returned to her work, sorting out the valuable and irreplaceable manuscripts from the thousands in her mother’s collection and placing them in the watertight wooden casket.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

For Taliesin the last of summer was pure enchantment. He rose with the sun to greet glorious golden days that passed with regal, unhurried serenity. When he could spare time away from the work of the great hall, Elphin took Tal-iesin with him into the forest to hunt, down to the estuary to fish or dig for shellfish, or simply to sit on the rocky shingle and watch the clouds and waves.

They rode together for hours, and Elphin described the monotonous work of riding the Wall, or talked of the necessity of keeping the Picti and Irish at arm’s length and of the brief, hot clashes that occasionally ensued. He taught Taliesin about the Roman way of fighting and, more importantly, of governing the land. He recounted the stories his warriors told around the fire at night when they were far from home. He told Taliesin about men and their desires and ambitions; he told his son about his hopes for his people, the reasons for the decisions he had made.

Taliesin listened to it all and hid every word in his heart, for he knew the gift his father was trying to give him.

“You must be strong, Taliesin,” his father told him one day. They were riding through the woods, boar spears in hand, while up the trail the hounds sought out the animal’s spoor. “Strong as the cold iron in your hand.”

“Hafgan says the same thing. Strength and wisdom are the king’s double-edged sword.”

“And he is right A king must be strong and wise for his people. But I fear the time is coming when wisdom will fail and strength alone must suffice.”