The House Of Gaian by Anne Bishop Page A

minute, saying nothing. Finally, she said, “We are not all the same, Breanna.
    We do not all have the same skills, the same abilities, the same strength. For some, the power we can draw from our branches of the Great Mother is no more than a trickle. For others, it is a small brook, or a deep stream, or a strong river. I am a deep stream, but you and Jenny ... you are rivers, fast and strong. So, yes, you are different from our kin from the east—but you are not so different from many who live in the Mother’s Hills. Power runs deep there, and it runs strong.”
    Thinking of Jenny, Breanna asked, “If Jenny and I are rivers, are there any witches who are the sea?”
    Nuala hesitated. “If there are witches that strong, they would be very dangerous if provoked.” She made a visible effort to push that thought aside. “Enough talk with me. Go on now and find out what’s troubling Falco.”
    “The threat I made frightened him. That’s what’s troubling Falco.”
    “That is not the only thing.”
    “What else could be troubling him?”
    Breanna squirmed as Nuala turned and gave her That Look.
    “That,” Nuala said, “is what you need to find out.”
    He was still sitting on the bench under the tree, looking lost and lonely.
    As she walked toward him, Breanna wondered just how much he had given up in order to give whatever help and protection he could against the Inquisitors. She knew he’d been shunned by the Clan whose territory was anchored to Old Willowsbrook, but had he just forfeited his family as well?
    When she sat down beside him, Falco said, “Liam returned. He said he needed to soak his hands in water.”
    Breanna sighed. “He needs more work in learning to ground the power.”
    “The women in the washhouse were glad to see him.”
    She let out a huff of laughter. “I’m sure they were. They’ll have plenty of hot water for laundry without having to stoke fires and sweat. Still, it will be easier on him when he learns to ground his power in a more traditional way.”
    Falco smiled, but the smile faded quickly.
    “What troubles you, Falco?” Breanna asked. “Do you miss your home?”
    He shook his head. “It isn’t a happy place. Hasn’t been since...” He sighed. “Dianna resents having to live at Brightwood to anchor the magic.”
    “Dianna?”
    “Lucian’s sister.”
    “I see,” Breanna said. But she didn’t see, didn’t understand. “She’s from that Clan?”
    Falco nodded. “There’s something about her that allows her to anchor the magic in the Old Place to keep the shining road open—as long as enough Fae stay in the Old Place with her.”
    “So that Clan doesn’t really need a witch.”
    He made a frustrated sound. “She’s the Lady of the Moon, Breanna. The Lady of the Moon. The Huntress. She wants to live in Tir Alainn. She doesn‘t want to be burdened with staying in the human world.”
    “But she’s doing this for her family.”
    He studied her, an odd expression on his face. “If it were your family, and you had to give up something special in order for the rest to have it, you would do it, wouldn’t you?”
    “Of course,” Breanna said, puzzled. “They’re family. I’m not saying it would be easy, or that there wouldn’t be times when I would wish it could be otherwise, but, yes, I would do it.”
    “That’s what makes you different from the Fae. One of the things, anyway.”
    “Falco—”
    He shot to his feet, paced a few steps away from her, then returned to the bench. “I don’t understand your ways.” Frustration shimmered in his voice. “If this was a Clan, I would know what was expected of me, but I don’t understand your ways.”
    “What don’t you understand?”
    “I don’t know if you expect me ... if your female kin expect me ...” He slumped back down on the bench. “I don’t like Jean. I don’t want to bed Jean.”
    Breanna felt her jaw start to drop. “Whoever said you had to?”
    “Since I’m visiting your ... family