alone, Mother be praised.‖ She knelt down at the chest where she kept her clothes and rummaged
about for a moment, finally lifting the enchanted bowl from its hiding place. ―Ah,‖ she said
softly, rubbing her fingers gently around its rim, ―finally we have time, you and I.‖
Faraday had found no opportunity to use the bowl since Jervois Landing. Either
Borneheld had been too close for comfort, a meeting with Axis too important, or she had felt too
depressed to try to reach the Mother. But Faraday felt in the marrow of her bones that if she
didn‘t use the bowl soon she might never do so again.
She waved Yr over to the bed. ―Sit down, Yr. I won‘t need your help.‖ Faraday wore a
loose gown she could slip out of easily and had water standing ready in a pitcher close by. She
unpinned her hair, then shrugged out of the gown, tossing it to Yr. She was thinner and paler
than she had been before her marriage to Borneheld; her anxiety about Axis suppressed her
appetite and Borneheld often kept her awake long into the night.
Faraday looked briefly at Yr; today the Sentinel‘s eyes and mind were unreadable. Lately
Faraday had been learning, to Yr‘s discomfort, how to read the woman‘s mind the way that Yr
read hers.
She occasionally learned some surprising things from Yr‘s unguarded thoughts. Faraday
suppressed a smile; Yr‘s tastes and talents could wait to be discussed and explored another day.
She placed the bowl on the floor at her feet and then slowly poured water from the
pitcher into it. Then she squatted down, cut her thumb and suspended the drop of blood over the
water.
―May this blood serve to renew my bond with the Mother,‖ she intoned softly, her eyes
almost unfocused in their concentration. ―May it serve to remind me of my pledge of faith and
service to the Mother, and may it serve to bring me closer to the Mother.‖
She tilted her hand and the drop of red blood rolled into the water. ―Mother, with this my
blood may you wake for me this day,‖ she said, as the water in the bowl flared emerald and
strength and power flowed through her. She picked the bowl up gently in her hands and slowly
stood. Once straight she extended the bowl out before her. The emerald glow suffused the room.
―Mother,‖ Faraday said clearly, her voice joyous, then she closed her eyes, let the power
flare and race through her body, and stepped through the Gate.
Suddenly she vanished from the room, the bowl suspended in the air, the light pounding
from it with the strength and rhythm of a gigantic heart. Yr‘s mouth fell open and she half stood.
This was not supposed to happen! By the Prophecy, what was going on here? She slowly walked over to the bowl, careful not to touch it. If the emerald light still throbbed then the connection
must not yet be broken.
Faraday walked through the light, feeling its power throb through her, feeling its love
enfold her. For a while she laughed and skipped her way, she felt so alive, so free, but eventually
she settled down to a more sedate walk. Perhaps the Mother did not appreciate such irreverent
activities. But who could not help feeling joyous this close to the Mother?
The light began to change about her, resolving into shapes and shadows, and her feet
stepped onto the grassy paths that led to the Sacred Grove. She was so happy she hummed a silly
little melody which rippled through her head. The trees formed about her and above the stars
whirled in their god-driven interstellar dance. Faraday felt very contented, very happy. She never
wanted to leave this place. Exultation filled her.
She stepped into the Sacred Grove. Soft whispers of wind cradled her body as she walked
across. Power drifted through her. Shapes shifted and slipped through the deep shadows behind
the trees. There was no fear, no loathing in this place, only peace and happiness. At the far side
of the Grove a Sacred Horned One appeared. He was the silver pelt that had greeted her and
given her the bowl on the night Raum had brought her here. He greeted her again, his hands on
her shoulders, his soft furred cheek against hers.
―Tree Friend. We have waited long for you to come back to us.‖
Faraday‘s face dropped and tears sprang to her eyes. ―Forgive me, Sacred One,‖ she
whispered. ―But it has been so difficult.‖
The Horned One gently nuzzled his damp nose into her hair. ―I know, child. We have
been with you and we know what you do to serve the Mother and to serve the Prophecy.‖
He turned her slightly to one side. ―Faraday. On this visit the Mother would see you too.
See? She waits. Go with love and peace, child.‖ And suddenly he was gone.
Faraday looked to where he had indicated. Another path stretched out of the Grove.
Strange, it had not been there previously. It stretched for many paces into the surrounding forest
and at the end Faraday received an impression of light and warmth, of love and comfort, and the
dim figure of a woman who stood at the very end of the path. ―Mother,‖ she whispered in awe.
As she walked down the path the light at its end got stronger, more compelling. Finally it
became so blinding she had to close her eyes. Heat struck her face as though she were standing
under the strong sun of a southern land.
―Daughter,‖ a woman‘s voice said, and warm strong hands grasped hers. ―Come into my
garden.‖ The impression of searing light and heat suddenly faded and Faraday opened her eyes.
Before her stood a pleasant-faced woman in late middle-age, her dark-brown hair greying
and coiled loosely about her head. She had cheerful blue eyes and a friendly smile with slightly
crooked ivory teeth. She wore a soft pale blue robe, belted about her waist with a rainbow striped
band. Behind her stretched the most beautiful garden Faraday had ever seen. Smooth paths led
between flower beds containing flowers of every shape and hue imaginable. Tall trees shaded the
flower beds from the sun that shone overhead. Water tinkled from an unseen stream, and insects
and birds buzzed and sang about the flowers and trees. Seats were placed invitingly under trees
and across green lawns. It was a garden which invited company and friendship.
―Mother,‖ Faraday smiled.
―Faraday,‖ she replied. ―The Horned Ones may call you Tree Friend, and other men may
call you wife and lover, but I will call you Daughter.‖
―Ah,‖ Faraday‘s eyes filled with tears. ―Thank you, Mother.‖
―Come, child.‖ The Mother linked Her arm with Faraday‘s and led her slowly down one
of the paths. ―I would talk with you a while.‖ Yet despite Her words, for a long time they did
nothing but walk, Faraday entranced by the beauty and the peacefulness of the garden. Every so
often she would turn to smile at the Mother who squeezed her arm affectionately in reply.
―Look, Daughter, a pool. Shall we bathe?‖ Faraday looked at the charming pool hidden
among rocks and ferns and laughed delightedly. She slipped into the water as the Mother folded
Her gown carefully and left it on a rock. When the Mother joined her in the water She brought
with Her fragrant soap. Slowly She washed Faraday, Her fingers soothing and gentle as they
traced over Faraday‘s body. Faraday closed her eyes and leaned back into the Mother‘s arms in
the water, letting both water and the Mother‘s hands support her as she floated.
―Mother,‖ she whispered, unable to believe the sensations that the Mother‘s hands caused
her, ―that feels so good!‖
The Mother smiled and lifted Her hands to massage the girl‘s scalp, soaping her hair and
rubbing Her fingers softly yet firmly across the girl‘s temples. ―You have known only the
awkward touch of your husband, Daughter. I have the hands of love.‖
For a long time Faraday lay there in the water, letting the Mother minister to her, letting
the Mother‘s love sweep through her. ―Mother,‖ she said finally, when she thought she could
bear no more. ―I must beg a favour of you.‖
―My Daughter?‖
―I do not want to bear Borneheld a child. I do not think I could tolerate it.‖
The Mother bent and kissed Faraday‘s brow. ―You will bear only children given and
received in love, Daughter.‖
For a long time Faraday lay in the water under the Mother‘s touch, then, finally,
regretfully, sat up in the water. ―Ah, thank you Mother.‖
The Mother grinned cheerfully at her. ―Have I made you feel better, Daughter?‖
Faraday grinned back. ―Much better, Mother.‖
―Then, let us continue our walk.‖ When Faraday re-emerged from the pool she found
another robe folded neatly on the rock besides the Mother‘s blue gown. It was a beautiful gown