Prophet of Moonshae - Douglas Niles [44]
"But it may be a trap!" shouted Knaff. "You could be sending your man to his death!"
"I will make no command. The warlord I name shall be free to accept or decline. If he accepts, he shall know the risk, though I venture it would take more than a simple ambush to place the noose of death around his neck."
"Who? Name the man!" The questions, the cries came pouring forth from the mass of northmen.
Brandon knew the answer, and he stood as his father's old eyes came to rest-with tenderness and pride, the young man thought-on the face of his son.
"Brandon Olafsson, Prince of Gnarhelm, will you accept my commission as ambassador and journey in peace to the palace in Callidyrr, there to call upon the High King in such manner as we have discussed?"
The young warrior's pulse pounded, and his face flushed with pride. "I will hasten to do as you command, sire. If the Ffolk be honorable, I shall return in peace." He paused, bowing, before he continued with the words that he knew that warriors among his people wanted him to speak.
"But if there be treachery among them, I shall make them regret their betrayal tenfold, a hundredfold, even if it means that I must shed the blood of the High King himself!"
The king sat back in his fur-lined chair, an expression of satisfaction on his gray-bearded face. Brandon's own mind soared, inflamed and encouraged by the accolades ringing from the throats of his countrymen.
* * * * *
Alicia stirred restlessly beneath the heavy bearskin that served as her bedroll. Finally she abandoned all thought of sleep, rising to pace about their small camp. She, Keane, and Tavish had made a sleeping place in a flat clearing among the boulders a hundred feet from the shore of the dead Moonwell.
Now, as the moth is drawn to the light, she felt herself compelled to approach that once-sacred water.
Why had she wished so strongly to sleep here tonight? The question nagged at her, for she had no idea as to the answer-and yet it had been a very compelling desire indeed. Her two companions had seemed to sense this, for both of them seemed more relaxed and comfortable here than they had been when surrounded by the hospitality of Blackstone's hearth and table.
She looked at the water, wondering if she saw a trace of its phosphorescent glow. Her mother had told her that, in Robyn's youth, all of the Moonwells had glowed in darkness with a soft white light widely taken as proof of the benign presence of the goddess. It saddened her now to look at this brackish pond, clearly outlined before her in its circular frame of the boulder-lined shore.
But why could she see it at all? The night was inky dark around her. Heavy overcast covered the clouds, totally obscuring the moon that somehow she knew waned into its third quarter. That, too, seemed odd. She hadn't seen the moon in weeks, perhaps months, yet within her mind, she had a very clear picture of the exact stage of its phase.
Alicia approached the pond, her feet stepping surely past unseen rocks, until she found a large boulder near the water's edge that would serve as a comfortable seat. She looked upon the Moonwell with a sense of wonder. It did glow, very softly.
Lost in meditation, she didn't hear movement behind her. Suddenly she gasped in alarm.
"I didn't mean to startle you," Keane said, almost whispering, "but the night is so still I didn't wish to break the silence."
Alicia moved, making room for him on the rock. "Can you see it?" she asked, indicating the well.
"Yes."
"Is it a miracle?" she asked wonderingly.
Keane laughed, very softly. "There are things in the earth-ores, and minerals-that will emit such a glow when they are properly mixed. The effect has been known to occur in nature. That, I believe, is what we see here."
"An accident of nature? Or perhaps the workings of the goddess."
"Would that it