"How were you brought across?"

"My story isn't very important."

"It is to me," Carina sat down near the fire and welcomed Lisette to sit with her.

"I was the youngest daughter of a minor noble on the outskirts of Palace City. My father made an arranged marriage for me to the son of a wealthy merchant. But my husband cared more about my dowry." Her eyes grew dark with the memories. "He didn't need to be drunk to beat me, and his attentions were rough. One night I came back late from the market. He was in a rage, and accused me of taking a lover, though I'd never been with any man but him. He raped me, beat me senseless, and then he threw me out in the snow to die." Lisette was silent again for a few moments.

"Laisren found me. Later he confessed that he'd been watching me from a distance for a long time. He brought me across and he took me to his home and helped me make the passage. Then, when I slept, Laisren returned and killed my husband for what he had done to me. No one ever found the body, and no one missed him." Lisette looked down, and her long hair fell around her face. "That was almost two hundred years ago. Laisren and I have been together since then, soulbound in the Dark Gift. Now do you see why I asked if you were a mind healer? It would be a great gift if you could ease the pain of old memories. Not take them completely, because they make us who we are. But make them distant, heal the wounds. Even after centuries, some memories are as fresh and raw as if it were yesterday."

"Sister Taru told me that mindhealing comes with time for many healers. Even though my gift is strong, I'm not yet a mind healer. But if I become one, I promise that I'll serve both vayash moru and mortals. You have my word."

"Thank you, m'lady."

There was a knock at the door from the shared parlor just before it opened, and Jon-marc peered into the room. "Ready for dinner?" He was also dressed in black.

"Lisette was just telling me about Winter-stide in Dark Haven."

"Good. Then you can help me remember what I'm supposed to do." He held out an arm for Carina. They descended the great main stairs into the throng of celebrants below. In the candlelight, Carina glimpsed a glint of light mail beneath his shirt, a precaution after the previous season.

"Wait until you see the ballroom. Even without Tris, there are enough ghosts here to put Haunts to shame. Seems most of our guests— living and undead—brought along an ancestor or two for company."

"So where were you?"

"Gabriel's been talking me through what I'm supposed to do. On the first night of Winterstide, it's customary for the Lord of the manor to exchange a gift of gold coins with the merchant guild, and a sheaf of wheat with the farmers. Good luck for the new year. Earlier today, I took five men and a team of horses to chop down a large oak and drag it out of the woods. You'll see it in the courtyard. They've started a bonfire at one end of it. Each night we'll push more of the log in until it's all burned—that's supposed to be a good sign. At sundown, Gabriel took me out to the barrow where they bury the lords of the manor. I guess sometimes the spirits feel inclined to give advice, but they didn't seem to have anything to say tonight."

Outside, a fierce wind blew. In response, the crowd raised their tankards of ale and wassail and gave a cheer, saluting Nameless and the wild host. The cheer became a toast as Jon-marc and Carina entered the room arm in arm. A feast of roasted goat and goose was spread on the largest table, along with rum pudding and brandied fruits, yams and leeks and pies with baked apples and raisins. The smell of mulled cider and spiced wine joined the scent of burning evergreen as pine boughs crackled on top of the logs in the hearth, sending sparks into the air.

In a place of honor at the head of the table was the goat's head, an offering to the Lady. The children at the feast brought small figures made of straw, people and animals and star shapes, and placed them in homage around the goat's head. An elderly woman, one of the matrons of the village, made her way to place an offering bowl of porridge, thick with nuts and berries, in tribute to the spirits. Around the great room, wreaths of yew and holly were adorned with winter berries. A large evergreen branch in one corner was hung with straw talismans in the shape of the Lady's mark. Eight glass globes with small candles, one for each of the Lady's eight faces, were suspended from its twigs.

"I've never seen such a feast!" Carina exclaimed, as Gabriel and Laisren joined them. In the center of the room a spot had been cleared for dancing, and the musicians played a lively reel. Carina recognized Yestin and Eiria among the dancers who wheeled and twirled to the music.

"You might have, had you been in Margolan or Principality a few hundred years ago," Gabriel said, bowing low in greeting and kissing the back of Carina's hand. "Those of us who've outlived our times can take comfort in remembering the old ways at least once a year. Though it's vexing that the mead has lost its taste for me."

"That's why there's fresh goat's blood and plenty of it. I hope you're in a party mood," Laisren said to Carina. Lisette stood beside him, and it was clear that they were a couple. "In Dark Haven, Winterstide is eight days, not a fortnight as they celebrate at the palace. Each night is for one of the Aspects. By the end, the mortals are drunk and the rest of us are sated enough to need a week to sleep it off!"

Yestin and Eiria joined them, flushed with the dancing. "Ah, but in Eastmark, the vyrkin aren't forgotten," Yestin said, slipping his arm around Eiria. Eiria seemed to lean heavily on Yestin, as if she did not feel well. "On the fourth night, the night of the Dark Lady, the spirits of the vyrkin come to pay tribute to the king of Eastmark. All vyrkin, living and dead, meet with the king around a great fire, and the seers of our kind give the king a prophecy for the coming year. One of the Dark Lady's prophetesses and one of our seers in human form dance together, a ritual that tells how the Dark Lady and the Stawar God we're joined. I've heard tell that the king brings with him two head of cattle, so there's meat enough for all!"

Carina laughed. "Isencroft isn't nearly so colorful. With Chenne as its patron, Winterstide is all jousts and bonfires, and a special pyre for the heroes and honored dead. There are all kinds of contests and sporting events, and the winners are honored at a great banquet with the king. I never did figure out why we feast for twelve nights instead of eight."

Gabriel answered her. "A very old tradition. Eight for the faces of the Lady and four more for Her consorts: the gods of the stawar, the wolf, the bear and the eagle."

Despite the roaring fire a draft moved through the room, and Carina knew that the kindred dead were near. Some were able to make themselves seen without the aid of a Summoner, but the others who lacked such power moved unseen through the room, joining in the dance or clustering by the fire.

Another gust of wind rattled the manor windows and shrieked across the rooftop, met with a hearty cheer by the celebrants within. Carina shivered and Jonmarc drew her against him, wrapping his arms around her. Across the room, the musicians struck up a lively tune.

"A dance, m'lady?" Jonmarc asked with a smile, making an exaggerated bow and clicking the heels of his boots together. Carina let him lead her to the dance floor. Yestin and Eiria joined them, as did Laisren and Lisette, while Gabriel withdrew to the corner of the room to confer with Riqua. They danced until the bells tolled the eleventh hour and Carina dropped gratefully into a chair gasping for breath.

"Enough! It's warm as summer in here with that fire."

Jonmarc handed Carina a cup of wassail, and looked up as Gabriel began to move from the far side of the room with a nod in his direction. "Catch your breath while I take care of some official business. Then we'll see about another dance."