“The mud has gone and my bones no longer ache so much.” He smiled at her. “Besides, there is something I would show you.” He refused to say more, leading her deep into the hills as her sturdy pony obediently followed the tail of Cynan’s mount. They rounded the bend to find themselves in a small cup of flat land. Most of it was taken up by . . .
“The place of the Old Ones you told me about?”
“Even so, my child.” He dismounted laboriously. “Sit here on the grass and listen.” He waited until Eleeri was settled comfortably. “My people worship Gunnora. She is the Lady of fruit, grain, and fertility. Lady of love and laughter. In her name we celebrate the change of a girl into womanhood. The amber pieces you showed me are of great worth. They contain seeds and could be sold as amulets of her symbol. I think they did not come to you by accident. Guard them well. Do not show them to others, but if you can, pray to Gunnora at need.”
Eleeri considered that. It sounded as if this Gunnora was the same as the Corn Woman, goddess to many Indian tribes. She would feel no sense of wrong in praying to Corn Woman under another name.
“I can do that, and I’ll cherish the amber. What else?”
“In Escore and on your journey there will be danger. Not only from beasts and man, but also from creatures of evil. They could imperil more than your body. I would ask of those who built this place if they will grant you guards.”
The girl blinked. Was he going to ask for ghost guard dogs or magic swords?
Cynan saw her confusion. “You have seen me place the small pebbles I carry about the doors. Those are guards, in a way. While they lie in any entrance, nothing which is of the Dark can enter. Men who are wicked, that is another thing,” he added as both remembered the bandits.
“Is this Gunnora’s shrine, then?”
He shrugged. “For all the time my family has lived here, we have prayed to her. The Old Ones built this place, but if it was Hers when it was laid down, we do not know.”
Eleeri studied it. It was simple, of a spare elegant design. Merely a pavement laid out in a star made from many hues of marble. Around the edge on each star point stood a tall white pillar. Yet it breathed a tremendous feeling of peace. Of a harbor safely attained. She was drawn again, rising without hesitation to approach the edge.
“What do I do?”
“Think about your need to be guarded from evil. Then step forward to stand in the star center if you can.”
She obeyed. At first it was difficult. Cynan had told her of many creatures who fought against the Light. But she’d seen none. It was hard to create them in her mind, along with a request for protection against them. It became easier the longer she tried.
Holding them in her mind’s eye, she walked forward.
Behind her, walls of mist lifted between the pillars so that she vanished from Cynan’s sight. He relaxed. That which dwelled here had accepted her as Daughter to the Light. It might refuse her request, but she was safe.
Within the mist walls, Eleeri stepped to the star center. There she bowed her head in a polite acknowledgment. Warmth gathered around her. So, there was something here. She would ask for help.
She did so, to receive in turn a wordless question. How much would she value this favor? After that it seemed that her mind would burst, as into it flowed a montage of evils. She saw Gray Ones run mad, killing, rending with tooth and talon all who crossed their paths. She saw odd-looking small creatures covered with a long coarse hair like roots, who burrowed to bring a slow smothering death to those who fell into their traps. Pools of evil showed as blighted blotches on the land. Into them she saw those unguarded stray and be consumed, body and soul together.
She shuddered. “What do you want?” Fear grew as the images all but overwhelmed her.
You! Slay Cynan and I will give you power over anything you desire.
“NO!” Eleeri stepped back in anger. “You’re supposed to be Light.”
He is dying.
“His life is his own.”
There was the sensation of being gathered into strong, loving arms.
Well said, child. The guards you ask shall be given. Before her a figure grew: a woman taller than Eleeri, with shimmering hair. It flowed golden down the straight back of the figure, caressing the woman’s green gown, tendrils straying outward. Without volition Eleeri knelt. Her hands were caught in long fingers as she was lifted up again. Then Eleeri’s hands were turned over. Into them the woman dropped four small smooth stones.
“Cynan will show you how they may be used. Good fortune ride with you, Eleeri of another people.” She began to fade as the girl fumbled with the pouch about her throat.
“Wait, oh, please wait.”
The woman’s shape firmed again. “What is it, child?”
“A gift for a gift.” Purple and blue fire flashed in Eleeri’s hands. She held out the gems left to her by Far Traveler. Somehow it seemed right that she should offer them. The woman stooped. The green and gold seemed to deepen as she took into her hands the bright pebbles. Mist swirled, brightening in the woman’s colors as she faded once more.
“A gift for a gift indeed, child. You who bear my guards also bear my symbols. Call on me with them in darkest times. I shall not forget you. Light bless your path.” She was gone, and Eleeri felt almost bereft. Slowly, cradling her four stones, she walked from the pavement.
Cynan was waiting. He said nothing, seeing the stones and the strange look on the girl’s face. Silently he led her back to the patient ponies. That night he taught her the stones’ warding. He found it interesting how swiftly she learned. It had been a matter for gossip once. Did those who came through gates have a gift given by the passage? Or were only those with the gift drawn to gates? It was said that Simon Tregarth had had little of the power in his own land, but a far greater portion in this. Could it be that beyond the gates the power was damped, to bloom more powerfully once the gate was passed? A thought to consider over long nights.
It took a week for Eleeri to learn all Cynan could teach her of the four stones. By then she, too, was beginning to wonder about her power. Always she could remember her horse-gift. There had never been a time she did not possess that. But since her arrival in Karsten, it seemed the gift was growing, and expanding into other areas. Cynan had shared his own questions, so that she, too, suspected many in her own world might have latent abilities. Still she did not wish to hold power. From what her friend said, it made of one too good a target. Still, the four ward stones had replaced the gems in the pouch at her throat. She suspected they would be weapons to her hand once she began her travels again.
But before that she had something she wished to do. Many things, in fact. She must hunt the yearling buck, culling out the smaller and weaker. They would be meat for Cynan. The old man had been trying to hide his growing weakness. He talked of her departure as soon as the last of the mountain snows were gone and the trails well dried. She knew why well enough, but it was his choice. If she was not there when he finally died, she could remember him as he had been to her: a strong friend and a teacher.
She hunted well. Then, closer to leave-taking, she made up her mind. The next day she would ride to the graves of his kin. She would scythe the grass short above the graves, place flowers. In her hunting she had found a brightly flowering bush with sweet-scented blooms. Now she raised one carefully. Back at the graves she gathered stone to stack along the earth that bordered where Cynan might wish to lie. She replanted the bright shrub in a mound of earth and leaf mold, next door to the grave of his wife. If he chose to lie there, it would be a fine marker for him who would have no other.
A month later, they rode down to the sea. There they gathered as much of the salt as they could scrape from the rocks. One by one they filled rock hollows above the reach of the waves. Over the next week the water would evaporate, leaving more of the priceless crystals.