moments, the only sound in the small, candlelit room high
on Hrofceaster’s massive flank, was the faint rustle of fabric, the flutter of
flame. Taminy watched the row of faces rapt in concentration. She knew they
were seeking to clarify the multi-sensory image, calling up whatever duans they
thought might aid them, clutching their crystals tightly.
Too tightly.
“Relax,” she murmured. “Sing the thought through the stone,
don’t try to push it through with your bare hands. The crystal responds to the
aidan, not brute strength.”
Along the row of meditative waljan, fingers loosened
self-consciously.
“Good. Now, breathe. Send the aislinn out with the air . . .
and focus.”
In relaxed hands, the crystals glowed softly or intensely as
the nature of the owner dictated. Then, in the center of the row, a stone took
quick fire. Above the flare of light, Aine-mac-Lorimer’s face displayed a
triumphant smile. Then she caught up the slate that lay on the braid rug before
her crossed legs and scribbled hasty words. One by one, the others in the row
echoed her as their crystals flared and pulsed—Gwynet, Iseabal, Eyslk, Phelan
Backstere.
When the last scratch had been made on the last slate,
Taminy called the light-globes in the room to full flood. Then she turned her
thoughts to the next room where five more waljan, in Desary Hillwild’s charge,
sat in similar contemplation.
In a moment, the chamber door opened and Desary appeared,
trailing Wyvis and Rennie Lusach, Cluanie Backstere and Airleas. They hurried
to find themselves places on the large braid rug, clutching their slates. All
eyes turned to Taminy.
“Aine,” she said, “you were the first to finish. Give tell.”
Aine’s face flushed with pleasure. She whipped a lock of
bright hair behind her ear and glanced at her slate. “Well, the aislinn I got
was about the Osmaer Crystal. I saw the Crystal on its pedestal in a dark,
circular room—a room like a shallow bowl. And I heard rainfall and a Wardweave
being sung and I smelled incense and roses. The aislinnseemed to say that the Stone needed protection.” She glanced aside
at Taminy. “I don’t understand that part. But then I touched Rennie Lusach and
sent the aislinn to him. And he sent back . . .” Here, she glanced at the slate,
now reposing in her lap. “A small host of mounted men coming through . . . a
bowl? And marching under a banner of red with a black . . . glob of some sort on
it.”
“It’s a rock!” wailed Rennie and his sister, Wyvis, whinnied
laughter.
Taminy hushed them. “And the meat of the message?”
“That one of the Houses marches on Hrofceaster.” Aine
blinked, hazel eyes fearful. “Is that so, Taminy?”
Taminy smiled and spread her hands. “Can someone else shed
light on this dire aislinn?”
Iseabal-a-Nairnecirke spoke up. “The message to send was
right . . . or at least, it was the same one I got. Of course, the Stone needs protection, Aine. Cusps always seem to put it
in dire jeopardy of being taken off by folks—like Buchan Claeg during the reign
of Kieran the Superstitious.”
“Well, you’d more chance to study history than I, Isha,
being an Osraed’s daughter. A Lorimer’s girl doesn’t get those opportunities.”
Taminy halted the argument with a thought. Both girls jumped
and looked up, guiltily. Taminy nodded at Iseabal who cleared her throat and
went on.
“Airleas sent to me. His message was that Iobert Claeg was
leading his men through the Cauldron pass bringing news and more pilgrims to
Hrofceaster. It was clear as day, Taminy.” She gave Airleas an appreciative
glance. “I saw the Claeg banner snapping on its standard and the color of the
Claeg’s eyes and I swear I could count the whiskers in his beard. I smelled wet
wind and stone . . . and pine.”
One by one, the others reported as well, with varying
degrees of success; Gwynet and Eyslk had done well—Phelan, not so well.
Meanwhile, Taminy and Desary listened
on Hrofceaster’s massive flank, was the faint rustle of fabric, the flutter of
flame. Taminy watched the row of faces rapt in concentration. She knew they
were seeking to clarify the multi-sensory image, calling up whatever duans they
thought might aid them, clutching their crystals tightly.
Too tightly.
“Relax,” she murmured. “Sing the thought through the stone,
don’t try to push it through with your bare hands. The crystal responds to the
aidan, not brute strength.”
Along the row of meditative waljan, fingers loosened
self-consciously.
“Good. Now, breathe. Send the aislinn out with the air . . .
and focus.”
In relaxed hands, the crystals glowed softly or intensely as
the nature of the owner dictated. Then, in the center of the row, a stone took
quick fire. Above the flare of light, Aine-mac-Lorimer’s face displayed a
triumphant smile. Then she caught up the slate that lay on the braid rug before
her crossed legs and scribbled hasty words. One by one, the others in the row
echoed her as their crystals flared and pulsed—Gwynet, Iseabal, Eyslk, Phelan
Backstere.
When the last scratch had been made on the last slate,
Taminy called the light-globes in the room to full flood. Then she turned her
thoughts to the next room where five more waljan, in Desary Hillwild’s charge,
sat in similar contemplation.
In a moment, the chamber door opened and Desary appeared,
trailing Wyvis and Rennie Lusach, Cluanie Backstere and Airleas. They hurried
to find themselves places on the large braid rug, clutching their slates. All
eyes turned to Taminy.
“Aine,” she said, “you were the first to finish. Give tell.”
Aine’s face flushed with pleasure. She whipped a lock of
bright hair behind her ear and glanced at her slate. “Well, the aislinn I got
was about the Osmaer Crystal. I saw the Crystal on its pedestal in a dark,
circular room—a room like a shallow bowl. And I heard rainfall and a Wardweave
being sung and I smelled incense and roses. The aislinnseemed to say that the Stone needed protection.” She glanced aside
at Taminy. “I don’t understand that part. But then I touched Rennie Lusach and
sent the aislinn to him. And he sent back . . .” Here, she glanced at the slate,
now reposing in her lap. “A small host of mounted men coming through . . . a
bowl? And marching under a banner of red with a black . . . glob of some sort on
it.”
“It’s a rock!” wailed Rennie and his sister, Wyvis, whinnied
laughter.
Taminy hushed them. “And the meat of the message?”
“That one of the Houses marches on Hrofceaster.” Aine
blinked, hazel eyes fearful. “Is that so, Taminy?”
Taminy smiled and spread her hands. “Can someone else shed
light on this dire aislinn?”
Iseabal-a-Nairnecirke spoke up. “The message to send was
right . . . or at least, it was the same one I got. Of course, the Stone needs protection, Aine. Cusps always seem to put it
in dire jeopardy of being taken off by folks—like Buchan Claeg during the reign
of Kieran the Superstitious.”
“Well, you’d more chance to study history than I, Isha,
being an Osraed’s daughter. A Lorimer’s girl doesn’t get those opportunities.”
Taminy halted the argument with a thought. Both girls jumped
and looked up, guiltily. Taminy nodded at Iseabal who cleared her throat and
went on.
“Airleas sent to me. His message was that Iobert Claeg was
leading his men through the Cauldron pass bringing news and more pilgrims to
Hrofceaster. It was clear as day, Taminy.” She gave Airleas an appreciative
glance. “I saw the Claeg banner snapping on its standard and the color of the
Claeg’s eyes and I swear I could count the whiskers in his beard. I smelled wet
wind and stone . . . and pine.”
One by one, the others reported as well, with varying
degrees of success; Gwynet and Eyslk had done well—Phelan, not so well.
Meanwhile, Taminy and Desary listened
Similar Books
