Susan Squires Danelaw

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had me. Still, I did what I must." She raised her chin as though there was some reason to be defiant. "I
did it to save the Gift."
Even though the Gift had not been saved. Not entirely. Not yet.
"What happened to your mother?" Britta asked, her voice a whisper in the glowing dark.
Tears welled in Pony's eyes. She had never said it aloud. She only said it now on the desperate chance
that this woman could help her, that she was lying about not being able to call the visions. Had she not
called the earth to shake and bring down a faesten? "My mother& drifted away from living until& " Pony
swallowed. "When I was ten, she put stones in her gyrdle and walked into a lake." The old depression
dragged at her.
Britta took an audible breath. Then she said, "I know what it is to feel abandoned." She reached for
Pony's hand again. There it was, that feeling that Britta, whom Pony had known for only hours, cared
more for her than her mother ever had. "Perhaps that is why it is difficult for you to love the one you
choose to get you with child?" Her suggestion was gentle.
"No," Pony shook her head. "That is just the way. But& I don't want to drift away from life like my
mother. Should I use the Gift to further Alfred's cause? Would that bind me to living? It means leaving the
Vale of the White Horse, and I can't imagine doing that. Though of course I did, when the Viking took
me. And then it was all spoiled. I couldn't go back. I got confused."
Britta sat up, smiled. "Confused over a Viking?" She chuckled. "That I understand."
"It was not the Viking." Pony shook her head. "Well, it was, since I& I don't know what came over me.
It was after I was breeding, too. I hope it did not harm the babe. It was only that it was Samhain night."
Britta shook her head. "It did not harm your child." She smiled. "So you have come to me to be sure
what to do about your Gift, about the Viking and Alfred."
Pony nodded, her eyes full. Tell me my future. You know. I can see it in your eyes.
"It is odd, since I have no sureness myself. I don't know whether I am witch or saint, and Alfred
notwithstanding, neither does anyone else. The magic or the grace call it what you will comes as it
chooses, and says things I don't wish to hear. Sometimes I heal, but more often those who come are
disappointed and revile me. They call me an imposter. Karn wants to protect me from that. But there is
no protection to be had in this world. That is one of the few things I do know." She leaned forward,
examining Pony's face. "I think we are required in this life to engage the world. What that means in its
particulars for you, I cannot say, I think that you must listen to the world, embrace its direction."
"Listening is the one thing I can do." Pony was relieved.
Britta smiled. "But you don't listen to all the world. There are other things you shut out. Like carnivores.
You hear only prey animals, those who run to live."
Devastation lodged like rocks in Pony's lungs. "I think that may be changing."
Britta raised her brows.
Pony swallowed. "I heard& a carnivore some time ago. A hawk. I know it is some strange perversion of
the Gift. It has not happened again, thank the Mothers." But hadn't it? Hadn't she heard carnivores
whispering in the background when she reached out to Dun Mare?
Britta searched Pony's face. "Perhaps it should happen again. We must listen even to the things that
frighten us, Epona." The woman's voice was soaked in some emotion Pony couldn't fathom, and she
turned her intensity to the glowing coals. "We must embrace everything, even those parts of our gifts that
are confusing. If we close one eye, we may think we see our path more clearly. Most people go through
life like that: with half vision. But it is left to a few, gift or curse, to open both eyes, to hear with both ears,
to understand with a full heart. When you open yourself, you realize the need for confusion."
Pony was confused. "I& I am not sure I know your meaning."
Britta leaned forward, her face fierce under her flaming hair. "My gift was frightening. I wanted to control
it. I wanted to know everything. But such power cannot be controlled. I don't know anything for sure.
But now I understand that." The witch cocked her head. "Karn confused me at first, too," she added.
"What I felt for him frightened me. Yet in the end, he was the reason for all I did. When I listened to my
heart, I felt the tug of the world and the direction it wanted to go."
"But it is my heart that is most uncertain," Pony protested. "I am feeling tugged in so many directions that
I can only stand and shake."
Britta leaned forward to stir the fire with a stick and smiled. Suddenly she froze. Sparks flickered upward
in the dark around her. Her eyes were big, unblinking, luminescent.
"Britta?" Fear flashed along Pony's spine. The witch was as still as stone.
Britta shuddered and gasped, as if she had not breathed for many minutes. Horror crossed her eyes. She
covered her mouth with one hand and her breast heaved.
"What is it?" Pony cried, looking into the fire. Nothing but coals glowed in the firebox.
Britta turned and examined her, her eyes roving slowly over Pony's face. "I was wrong," she whispered.
"It will happen more slowly than I thought." A half-chuckle sounded desperate, not relieved. "Alfred will
be so disappointed. And you& you! I should have known the instant you said you worshiped the Great
Mother. She will have her way, oldest of the earth's incarnations." She began to laugh, deep in her throat, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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