knew exactly what she meant to do.
*****
They were upon him, the smaller male and the young
female, with daggers that would bite deeper than his fangs
could. The wolf, who knew nothing about rage or
vengeance or any purpose other than survival, heaved up
from the one sprawled helpless beneath him, abandoned
the enticing scent of blood and meat for immediate
survival.
On the wings of pain, like wings of fire, the wolf won
its freedom at the price of another agonizing bound over
the broken wall. It left blood on the stones of the hillside,
all along the path into the forest, and it carried away with
it the noose still clinging round its neck.
*****
Guarinn had made a bright, high campfire in the center
of the ruin, but Roulant didn’t think it was doing much to
warm or comfort Una. Nor did it seem to help Una that
Roulant held her tightly in his arms – he wondered if she
would ever stop weeping. Somewhere to the north the
wolf howled, a long and lonely cry. Una shuddered, and
Roulant held her closer.
“Una,” he said, turning away from the reminder of
failure. “Why did you follow me here?”
She sat straighter, her fists clenched on her knees, her
eyes still wet but no longer pouring tears. “I’ve known for
two years that you went out into the forest on the Night.
And I’ve known . . .”
She looked at Guarinn sitting hunched over the fire.
The dwarf turned a little away, seemingly disinterested in
whatever they discussed. Roulant, who knew him,
understood that he was offering privacy.
“You’ve known what?” he asked, gently.
“That something’s come between us. Something – a
secret. Roulant, I’ve been afraid, and I had to know why
you went into the forest on the Night, when no one else –
”
“Someone else,” Guarinn amended. “Thorne and me.
And now that you’re here, I suppose you think you should
know the secret you’ve spied out?”
Una bristled, and Roulant shook his head. “Guarinn,
she’s here and that gives her a right to know what she
saw.”
“Not as far as I’m concerned.”
“Maybe not,” Roulant said. “But she has rights where
I’m concerned. I should have honored them before now.”
Guarinn eyed them both, quietly judging. “All right,
then. Listen well, Una, and I’ll give you the answer you’ve
come looking for.
“This ruin you see around us used to be Thorne’s
house,” he said. “A quiet place and peaceful. No more
though. It’s only a pile of stone now, a cairn to mark the
place where three dooms were doled out this night thirty
years ago. Three dooms, twined one round the other to
make a single fate.”
The wind blew, tangling the smoke and flame of the
small campfire. Roulant wrapped his arms around Una
again and held her close for warmth.
“Girl,” the dwarf said. “Your hiding place tonight was
once a bridal chamber. It never saw the joy it was fitted
out for . . .”
*****
“Thorne asked but two guests to come witness and
celebrate his marriage. One of them was me, and I was
glad to stand with him as he pledged his wedding vows.
The other was Tam Potter, and his was a double joy that
night, for he was Thorne’s friend and the bride’s cousin.
She was from away south, and I don’t think her closest kin
liked the idea of her wedding a mage. But Tam was fair
pleased, and so he was the kinsman who bestowed her
hand.
“Mariel, the girl’s name; and she was pretty enough,
but no rare beauty. Yet that night she glowed brightly, put
the stars to shame; for so girls will do when they are soon
to have what they want and need. She needed Thorne
Shape-shifter and had flouted most of her kin to have him.
No less did Thorne need her.
“The first night of autumn, it was, and the bright stars
shone down on us as we stood outside the cottage. Old
legends have it that wedding vows taken in the twined
light of the red moon and the silver will make a marriage