Liath started up, suddenly aware that she had been staring into the fire like a madwoman. “How did you find me?”
“The spell Bernard concealed you with has worn away strand by strand since his death, just as this hut and indeed the great network of roads and towns and way houses built under the rule of the Dariyan empresses have all worn away with the passage of time and with none to care for them each day or month as is necessary. Until then, you were hidden from me.”
“After Da died, I would sometimes hear a voice calling my name, but there was never anyone there. Was that you?”
“At times in remembered sorrow I spoke your name. You may have heard me. The link between us runs deeply, and could never be fully severed.”
“But if Da knew you might be looking for us, why did he hide us? He thought you were dead!”
“If he thought I was dead, then he could not believe I was looking for you.”
“But what about the creature that killed Da? What about the daimone I saw, and the demons that chased me on the road?”
The magelight sharpened, as if it reflected Anne’s thoughts. A moth fluttered in through the door and danced along the ceiling, trying to get close to the light. “You must tell me precisely and in detail about each of these incidents.”
She told of the voice of bells, Da’s death, and the white feather. Of her encounter on the Osterwaldweg with the daimone and the glasslike feather it had left behind on the road, and of how she had sat so still that it had walked past her without seeing her. Of the creatures that dusk had spun out of the shadows, who had pursued her down the road beside the Bretwald and how she had hidden in a stone circle.
“How did you escape them?”
Words caught in her throat like stones. Finally she said: “I saw an owl.” She could not lose her habit of caution. She did not mention the gold feather given to her by the Aoi sorcerer.
The stone circle, and the owl. That was all.
Anne watched her without expression. “An owl is a common creature to see in the night. Such creatures as you describe would not be halted by mere stone.”
“T—they didn’t see me,” she stammered. “They passed me by.” The horror of it struck her, and her next words came out harshly enough, because they at least were not half-truths. “The were other travelers on the road. They stripped them down to the bone but left their clothing and gear untouched. I’d never heard of such a thing before. I didn’t know such creatures even existed, or what they’re called.”
“The minions of the Enemy walk on this earth in many guises,” replied Anne with her usual calm. “But there are certain signs, and portents…. Certain disturbances touch the fabric of the universe, of God’s creation, and when that happens, gateways appear like rents in a cloth. Creatures who were on confined in other planes of existence can cross through.” Now her forehead furrowed, and she frowned the kind of unforgiving frown that the Lady might turn on an apostate. “Or be called.”
“I thought daimones were called down from the spheres above the moon.”
“They can be. Each sphere is home to unique kinds of daimones. Those in the lowest sphere are weakest while in each ascending sphere, they grow in power and aspect. Yet, in addition, there are other bridges, other lands that exist close by ours, even other ways of existing in the universe that we do not fully understand.”
“You know so much.” The easy way Anne spoke of the matters seized her twofold: awe at her knowledge, and violent curiosity because she wanted to understand the natural world herself, from the rocks and stones all the way to the highest sphere.
“Much knowledge has been lost. It is like this land we travel through now. We make our way on roads paved long ago by the ancient Dariyans, whose merchants and soldiers and administrators traveled widely and swiftly. How far we have fallen!”
“But they were heathens.”
“That is why they fell. However, we are all tainted. It cannot be otherwise as long as we live on this earth, here where the hand of the Enemy lies most heavily. Nevertheless, they had great knowledge that is now lost to us, just as we have let their great works and buildings and roadways fall into disrepair and ruin.”
From the mosaic floor, a partridge’s eye gleamed up at Liath, a brightly-polished agate. Its beak was missing, although the rest of the bird lay intact surrounded by a depiction of grass and sedge. The realism of the scene enchanted her. She could practically hear the birds rustling through the thicket, seeking seeds and insects. Wind sighed over the roof, and she glanced up to examine the two beams that still spanned the chamber.
