"You!" Thalar exclaimed in surprise.
Gabria, too, was startled and watched the woman as she paced forward in the light of the lamps and torches to face the priest.
"I believe I know more of the goddess's ways than you do, Thalar. A man who fol ows the god of battle and death cannot begin to comprehend the power of life and birth. It is my belief that Gabria has the favor of Amara. Her survival and her success against overwhelming odds are indications to me that the goddess is watching over her daughter. If this is the case, then Cantrel 's arguments for magic are more than the artful words of a skilled bard." She paused as Cantrell chuckled.
"I suggested sending Gabria to the temple, “she continued, "to learn the truth of the goddess's wil .
If the sorceress is blessed with Amara's grace, then she will live and thrive to return to us. If she is not, the mother goddess wil punish her as no mortal can imagine." For a long moment the Khulinin stared at Gabria. No one moved or said a word. At last, Lord Athlone raised his hand.
"So be it. Lady Gabria's sentence begins at moonrise tonight.
She may return to the clan in six months, marked by the rise of the ful moon." He turned on his heel and strode to the chieftain's quarters in the back of the hal . The tapestry fel closed behind him, signaling the end of the getyne.
Thalar snorted in disgust and stamped to the entrance. As the guards pul ed the doors open for him a cold gust of wind swirled into the hall. The chilly air seemed to rouse the crowd from their astonishment. In ones and twos they averted their eyes from Gabria and left the hall until only the sorceress and Cantrell remained.
The young woman took a deep breath and stepped away from the fire. She sank down on the dais steps. "We have been back in the treld but ten days and already they are getting rid of me,” she said with bitter sadness.
The old bard did not answer her immediately. Instead he gently strummed the strings of his harp.
Cantrel had lost his sight the previous summer, when Lord Medb had slashed his face in a fit of rage during an ill-fated clan gathering. The bard had fled the sorcerer's camp and found sanctuary with the Khulinin. Since then, Cantrel 's ancient harp had rarely left his hands. His eyes were gone, but the music of his harp and his songs had kept his life full.
He played his instrument now, letting the notes flow into the new ballad he was creating about Gabria. The clans loved heroic tales, and it would not hurt to remind them of the courage in Gabria's deeds. For a while he simply played to her, knowing the music would say more than his voice. He brought the tune to an end with a strong flourish and listened as the notes passed into silence.
Cantrell stood and laid his harp carefully by his stool. "I am pleased you will not be far away. We will be waiting for you to come home."
"Home,” Gabria repeated sadly. "I am a sorceress. The only home I had is now a ruin. I doubt I'll ever be al owed to find another." She climbed to her feet and looked miserably at the door through which Athlone had disappeared. She hadn't even been given a chance to say good-bye to him.
Cantrell felt for her arm. He pulled her close and held her tight. "You will survive this, child. And more to come. Be ready."
Gabria smiled into his blind face. "Is this one of your prophecies, Bard?"
"No. It is something I feel---like the coming of night. It will be moonrise soon. You had better go."
Gabria picked up her golden clan cloak from the steps, threw it around her shoulders, and walked toward the big double doors. Behind her, the bard resumed his seat and ran his fingers along his harp.
The soft music followed her toward the doors. Just as she was about to leave, a familiar voice called to her. Gabria turned and saw Athlone hurrying to her with a bundle in his hands. The emotions of the past few hours swelled within her, and she ran to meet him before the fears and angers could tear apart her flimsy control. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck.
The chieftain hugged her fiercely. "I could not let you go without a word."
As he held her is his arms, she looked up and said forlornly, "Six months is a long time to be away."
She dropped her eyes again. "I have never been alone for so long."
"I don't like it either,” Athlone replied, "but the law must be upheld or we wil never have peace."
He looked down into her deep green eyes. "Besides, you wil not be total y alone. Nara will be with you, and while I cannot visit, I'll watch and guard you as much as I can."
His face suddenly lit with laughter and he added, "The goddess must look after you, too. I have already paid the bride price. Will you marry me when you come back?"
She looked away. "You may change your mind in six months."
Athlone cupped her chin in his hand and gently turned her head to look at him. "I'd sooner change my clan. I will be waiting for you. In the meantime, take this,” He thrust a bundle in her hands, then kissed her deeply. "And take my love." A final hug and he was gone, striding back to his quarters.
The sorceress watched him go, her heart heavy. Final y she stepped past the entrance and looked down through the deepening twilight at the wintering camp of the Khulinin. The chieftain's hal was built into the side of a large, treeless hill
