As Lugh sent the Raven with Padrec, send me Your sign. I would do Your will in this new thing. And now there is one other matter.

Jesu, do not think me ungrateful after all Your gifts, if I speak to You of forgiveness, which is much of your teaching. Padrec has told of Judas and how he betrayed You. Do not think me ignorant: I am a gern and must know the way of the heart. Cru betrayed us, and we have all forgiven him, even Padrec whom he most wronged. Cru and I are as finger and thumb, made to touch, and I would have him home. If I can forgive my Judas, it is only fair and reasonable for You to forgive Yours. Look you, Cru struck out of pain because he could not understand a love too large to fit just him. Might not Judas have done as much? Standing there with the knife in his hand, Cru was repen-tant before Padrec's blood flowed. Poor Judas, then, with the mean silver in his hand, and

did he not feel much like Cru? What man hanged Judas but himself?

Remember the lost lamb and the rejoicing when it was found. Would do You no harm to think on it, Jesu, nor grudge that the thought comes from a woman. You and Father-God are too unbending in the matter of women. It is the only fault I find with you.

Beyond the moonlit circle of stones, Bruidda waited by her pony, chosen out of respect by the other gerns to hear Dorelei's decision and give what counsel the headstrong girl would accept. For all her magic, Dorelei didn't listen well. Bruidda watched her in the circle and pondered which was the greater cruelty: to be too old for the able use of wisdom, or young with too much power, like an overfed child that sickened on plenty even as it cried for more.

Dorelei's hand moved as if she were sowing seed, scattering the offered stones. She had waited for the full moon, since it would be unwise to make any important decision on the wane when Mother was no better disposed than any other woman just before the flow of her blood. Evil alone could be worked in the dark of the moon, and this was to be a work for good.

la! Mother, hold Gawse in your bosom and guide her spirit to Tir-Nan-Og. She is young forever now. Take her my greeting.

See my offering and know you are not forgotten in this new time. If the men go forth for Jesu, it will not be until our wealth is born and the new lambs dropped. If the Roman Ambrose cannot see that spring is a time for increase, then Jesu must do without Prydn. As always, when Lugh came to you in summer, our men came to us. We quickened and will bear in spring as our flocks, and our men will be there to help, to see life come forth and know it comes from you. Ambrose finds

this hard to understand. To him it is woman's business alone, but he is only tallfolk.

Mother, I would do this new thing, not only for Jesu but for that I or my daughter is the one promised by the black fawn to raise Prydn to greatness, despite what Bruidda read in the signs. Such signs have been unclear before, and Bruidda has old bitterness like cataracts to cloud her sight. Let me be wise and strong before her, as Gawse was.

And for Cruaddan, first husband, let Lugh ride his arrows. Let your breast whisper to his foot as he walks and turn it home again. I would say this to no other woman, not even Neniane. I wronged Cm before he ever struck at Padrec. There are more sins than those second husband speaks of. I love Padrec, but there is a place in my heart like a barrow.

Dorelei saw the figure by the pony, the gold of the tore flashing cold with moonlight, the ruby pendant and bracelets that shimmered when Bruidda moved.

"Dorelei Mabh, thy sisters would speak through me."

Dorelei might have squatted with the other woman, but her belly made it hard now to sink into the position of rest. She remained standing before her sister gern. Neither of them hurried to speak. Bruidda would meditate first on Mother's mooneye to add wisdom to her words. Eventually Bruidda asked, "Thee will rade for Jesu?"

"If a send no sign against it. Be in my heart."

"And in our men. Thy Drust be like Raven now, like a god."

And so Salmon fhain grew in presence. Dorelei kept silent, making the older woman reach out.

"Sister, let us be plain," Bruidda said. "This new fever be a man-thing. A see the power thee gives Padrec Raven and be like Lugh breaking free of Mother."

"Will go when I say."

"Be patient and hear, Dorelei. Real power be always patient." Bruidda rubbed at the scars on her arms. "Ro-

man-men have much of patience and more of wile."

"A's wisdom be small beside Prydn."

"As bee's sting, yet may thee feel it. And our men fall over themselves to fight a tallfolk war."

'Tor Jesu. Dost nae see the power we have now?"

Bruidda chose her words carefully. "Do speak of power. Thee hast it now, even that which should be carried by thy sisters. Remember in this power that Mother's world has many tallfolk and few Prydn. What little Prydn did get from them, did shrewdly bargain for.''

"Ai, Bruidda, speak thy mind." Despite her courteous intentions, Dorelei was wearied with the weight of the child in her that made riding difficult now and her walk like a silly goose in a pen. She yearned to lie on her side with Padrec's arms and voice to lull her to sleep.

"Tir-Nan-Og be nae here, child, and the Green Time will nae come again."

The woman wasted her time. "Mother told thee this?"

In the darkness she missed the subtle softening of Bruidda's mouth. "Nae, bairn. The cold in my bones a-winter. But hear thy sisters: thee scatters Rainbow-gift like sand among tallfolk. Cannae always be generous and wise in one day. If thee send our men with Ambrose, get a price in return. A brow price, Dorelei. For the days of thy wealth."

That was wisdom. Dorelei thought much on it. Bruidda and her sister gerns, backward in some ways, were still women of experience, pondering consequences while the young men dashed about on their ponies and gabbled of nothing but the adventure, even in bed, which was a place and time for better things. But tallfolk had been known to give short weight in bargaining. Dorelei lay awake with her back curved into the warmth of Pad-rec and pressed his hand to her stomach. "Husband?"

He nuzzled the nape of her neck. "Mm?"

"This rade: we can give a to Jesu and ask only a's blessing."

"Truly."

1 'But from Ambrose and the tallfolk prince, we must have a bargain."

"Was in my mind too, and wise. Marchudd will pay. A has money and cattle. What will thee ask?"

The child in Dorelei stirred many new instincts. Things once trivial or totally alien became important. Money and cattle were not the coin of these promptings. Dorelei was a little awed by the reach of her thoughts.

Roman-men have land without reckoning, from Wall to Middle Sea. If Dronnarron will not come again, we could make our own for the days of our children. Then they could stand at a locked gate and say who entered and who did not.

Frightening even to think it, so big. None among Prydn had done it, not even Mabh. But iron-magic was once a locked gate that opened before her like Jericho. They would have a place. . . .

I couldn't say [Ambrosius wrote to Marchudd) whether one bears a Faerie child or simply drops it like a sheep, but we must wait for both if we want the Prydn archers, which means spring at the earliest. That was my estimate in any case, since VI Legio will not be ready to march before then. . . . S. Patricius has presented his wife's price for their men. Not gold or cattle, but land within Parisi holding and granted in perpetuity by treaty or patent. You must deal with this as you will, but they are quite serious. Land for service.

... as if she were Mother herself, earth itself heaving in its deep recesses to loose this force into the world. Dorelei bit hard on the cloth and pushed when Neniane told her to. Poor Padrec looked white. For all his magic, he wasn't used to this greater wonder. His kind made much of the end of life but waited outside at the beginning.

The pains were so close together they seemed one. Padrec's fingertips were dark red from her grip. She must bear live wealth. Neniane and Guenloie had already brought their daughters to fhain, the good milk spilled from their breasts. She must do this. She must push. Yet it was like pulling on a giant bowstring of earth. Pulling like Cru, drawing the arrow to the head, aiming life at a world not left to tallfolk alone.

"Now, sister. Do have a's head free. Now."

Cru .. .

She loosed the arrow.

Guenloie took the bitten cloth from her mouth and swabbed her face as Neniane deftly handled the aftermath of birth. She cut the birthstring and laid it by the fire to dry. Guenloie had willowbark tea ready to rout any lingering pain and clean water to wash Dore-lei's body. The birthstring must be blessed by Padrec. This was the strongest magic for the child in the first perilous year of its life. Padrec was barely listening or coherent. Yes ... of course, he would bless it, anything. He saw only the exhausted face on the pillow, the lips that barely opened to call him.

"Padrec..."

He took the cooling cloth and pressed it to her cheeks. "Be alive and whole, sweet."

"First daughter?"

"A Prydn man."

"Oh ... did thee sicken?"

"A little. Be strange but a wonder as well. Here." He coaxed more tea to her a sip at a time. "A wonder. Why do women hide such miracles from men, such strength?"

She passed a limp hand over his cheek. "What man be brave as my husband? Thee sees now how quick life comes."

"Quick? Seemed hours. Here, drink more."

Wan herself, she tried to smile. "Thee looks pale."

"Nae, but... there was a man, a priest like me. I dedicated myself to him once. He called the organs of

life the center of all evil. "Ecce UndeV he said. 'That's the evil spot/ And I believed him."

"Dost seem a troubled man."

"Yes. Here, drink more while's hot."

"Nae."

"Come. Drink it." He put his lips to her sweaty cheek. "Let me bully you this once. Come, now."