Linnet glanced across at Beau, then returned her gaze to the wold below. 'It's rather like my mum says.'
'Your mum?'
'Aye, she speaks of the great web of life, and how if you pluck a strand here, it causes movement there, some strands more important than others, for if you pluck one of those, it causes the whole web to shake violently… and if you break a strand, a part of the web will collapse, and the more important the strand, the greater the ruin it causes. And so, like your stones and ripples, perhaps events are like plucking the strands, causing the web to shudder.'
'Huah!' exclaimed Beau. 'Stones in water or shaking the web-they aren't all that much different.'
They sat without speaking for a while, and then Beau added, 'Y' know, Linnet, I think Modru hopes to sit in the center of the web like some great bloated spider and control all.'
'Modru on Mithgar,' said Linnet, 'but Gyphon over all.'
The moon fell near to setting, and a cluster of shadow came scrambling up the slope.
'Our relief is here,' said Beau, and moments later a Pysk and fox came unto their side.
Speaking the few words of Fey they had been taught by Rynna-[Ogru go. Many Spawn no move.]-Beau and Linnet left the Fox Rider and fox on ward, and made their way down the slant to where the ponies were tethered.
A month passed and then another, and during this time Rynna taught the Fey language to the Warrows. When all became well enough versed in the tongue of Pysks, the Fox Riders themselves began to add words to the Warrows' store.
Summer came and went, and as autumn drew nigh, Tip and Rynna and Melli with Lark, along with Beau and Linnet, rode north to Bircehyll to be with the Dylvana on Autumnday, for Tip and Beau would step out the Elven rite again.
They found Bircehyll sparsely inhabited, for most of the Dylvana were off to war-up in the Crestan Pass and within the peaks of the Grimwall nigh. Even among those yet in Darda Erynian-now with the harvest in-many had rejoined the others patrolling the woodland eaves. Hence there were but twenty or so Dylvana at the Elvenholt proper, along with two Lian: a golden-haired Dara named Riatha, and her golden-haired brother Talar, both with eyes so pale grey as to seem a shade of silver-Talar the Elf who had survived the destruction of Atala; yet none spoke of that calamity but celebrated Autumnday instead.
All throughout the day and eve Dylvana came to hold wee Lark, she hardly bigger than a Pysk, yet no Pysk was this but a Warrowchild dammsel instead, and totally beguiling.
After the feasting, singing in procession, Elves and War-rows wound through the woods to come to a bowl- shaped vale the Dylvana called Sur Kolare-Whisper Hollow-a grassy slope facing a high stone concave wall. It was a natural amphitheater, and all sat on the sward facing toward the wall, where the performers stood on a stagelike mound cupped by the stone. There was music and singing and sagas told and odes spoken, and Tip and Rynna marvelled at the wall and noted the shape of its curve, for even the slightest whisper could be heard… especially when the performer faced completely away and spoke to the stone itself. Here Tip played his silver-stringed lute and Rynna her pennywhistle, and turn by turn they sang, to the delight of all.
Finally that eve and again singing in procession, all wound through the woods and to the crest of the hill above the Elven dwellings, where the clusters of silver birch trees thereon were sparse and widely spaced. And the Dylvana asked the two Lian-Riatha and Talar, jaian and jarin, sister and brother-to take the place of honor and lead the Elven rite of Autumnday.
And there 'neath the swelling half-moon, singing, chanting, and pacing slowly pacing, they began a ritual timeless by mortal gauge. And enveloped by moonlight and melody and harmony and descant and counterpoint, with feet soft on the sward, the Elves trod solemnly, gravely… yet their hearts were full of joy.
Step… pause… shift… pause… turn… pause… step.
Slowly, slowly, move and pause. Voices rising. Voices falling. Gliding notes from the dawn of the world itself. Harmony. Euphony. Step… pause… step. Riatha turning. Talar turning, Dylvana turning in unison. Darai passing. Alori pausing. Counterpoint. Descant. Step… pause… step…
And down among the shifting Dylvana and treading at Talar's side, Tip and Beau were lost in the ritual, Tip singing, Beau pacing-step… pause… step-just as Rynna and Linnet and Melli paced alongside golden Riatha, she of the argent eyes.
And out on the fringes and among the silver birch stood a tall figure of leaves and twigs and vines, Lark asleep in its arms, Prym singing along with the rite, a rustle of leaves in the wind.
In early October two Pysks-Nia and Kell-came riding their foxes through the autumnal forest, leaves golden and red and russet and brown. The cool summer past, frost had come early, and chill was in the air. Into the vale they rode, into the ward camp, where they sought out and spoke with Tynvyr for a time. Finally, Tynvyr came to Rynna and Tip-perton and said, [The Stone you found in Darda Stor among the shattered Eio Wa Suk in the broken dell, it is ancient beyond counting, and sorely does it grieve from an ancient hurt as well.]
[What happened?] asked Tip, speaking Fey.
Tynvyr shook her head. [Though yet alive it is damaged and no longer knows what befell the aggregate, and only the sorrow remains.]
[Damaged?]
[Aye. As you have seen, it had nearly been uprooted.]
Rynna looked at Tipperton. [It was tilted.] She turned to Tynvyr. [Would that do it? Tilting I mean? Damage but not slay?]
Tynvyr's eyes filled with tears. [This I do know: when one falls or is moved a distance from its source, it no longer speaks.]
Rynna turned to Tip again. [When this war is done, Tipperton, we will ask the Baeron and others to set it upright again. Mayhap that will restore it to its source and repair the damage done.]
Tipperton sighed and nodded and gazed out on the autumn woods. [Can it speak with other Stones?]
[Nia and Kell say not. It was all they could do to reach past its grief and find the Stone within. Its voice is given to soft mourning, and not to speaking afar. Mayhap, afflicted as it is, it can no longer do such.]
October faded, the leaves turning brown, yet nought else nigh Eryn Ford seemed to change-Warrows and Fox Riders keeping station, watching the maggot-folk, guiding a traveller or two past the Spawn now and again. But in the first days of November [The Rupt are on the move!] came the cry. Both Tynvyr and Rynna looked up to see Picyn come racing into the camp. Tynvyr stood and jammed two fingers into her mouth and blew, and although Rynna couldn't hear it, she knew a shrill whistle pierced the air. Picyn called out to his fox and it turned for the damman's hut, where Rynna and Tynvyr had been conferring. Up the slope raced Picyn, his fox to skid to a halt before the bower. Breathlessly he leapt down and repeated, [The Rupt are on the move!]
[How many and which way?] snapped Tynvyr.
[All, and north, and they have a dark-haired, pale-skinned man with them: a Human.]
[A surrogate,] hissed Rynna.
[And some Ghuls on Helsteeds have ridden ahead,] added Picyn, [or mayhap raced ahead is a better way to put it.]
Rynna frowned. [For those two segments to be marching north and with a surrogate, and for Ghuls to be riding ahead and swiftly, something momentous is likely afoot.] She turned to Tynvyr. [Fetch as many as you can, and send word by Eio Wa Suk for others to foregather in the woodland along their route.]
At Tynvyr's nod, Picyn leapt astride his fox and started to turn, but Rynna cried, [Wait!] Picyn turned back. [Tip-perton, what does he do?]
[He trails north, Lady Rynna, wide on their eastern flank, Nix too.]
Rynna's hand flew to her mouth. [Oh my!] But then she looked at the Fox Rider. [Thank you, Picyn. Now go, go, time is of the essence.]
Rynna once again turned to Tynvyr and said, [Raise the camp. We must hie.]
Tynvyr called her fox and mounted and rode swiftly away, rousing those in their huts 'round the perimeter of the dell.
'Aunt Melli!' cried Rynna, dashing into the bower.
