“Lady?” came a tremulous voice from the door.
“Moira?” The voice was so strained it was hard to recognize. “Merry met indeed.”
“Merry met.” Then a pause.
“Lady, I need help and I did not know where else to turn,” Moira said miserably.
” . . . and there you have it, Lady. I could not stand it, so I went away.”
Moira and her hostess sat on a log bench outside the rebuilt keep of Heart’s Ease. The night was mild and the moon near full above them. Both had cloaks, but they were only sitting on them rather than wrapping up in them. The moonlight picked out the glistening tear streaks down Moira’s cheeks.
“Lady, I do not know what to do. There is no living with him and I’m miserable without him.”
Shiara could not see the tears, but she heard them in Moira’s voice.
“Do you love him?” she asked gently.
Moira sniffed. “You know I do, Lady. And I know he loves me. But that doesn’t solve everything.”
“It never does,” Shiara said with a sigh.
Moira hesitated and Shiara heard her skirt rustle against her cloak as she turned toward her.
“Lady did you and Cormac . . .”
Shiara paused at the mention of her dead lover and quest companion, killed in the same accident that took her sight and magic. ” . . . ever fight?” Shiara finished the question. “Oh, aye. Often and fiercely. He would stamp and bellow and bang his fist and I would scream like a fishwife and throw things. Crockery mostly.” She smiled at the memory.
“That is not part of the legends, is it? Still, it is true. I think a necessary part of loving someone—loving them enough to share your life with them—is being able to have it out with them when needs be.”
She put her hand on Moira’s shoulder. “You are strong willed, both of you, and neither is easy. I would be surprised if you did not fight.”
“But it doesn’t seem to settle anything,” Moira said despairingly. “We argue and nothing gets any better.”
“Now that is another matter,” Shiara said.
Shiara turned her sightless eyes to her guest. “I do not know that I am the person to advise you. I had little experience in such matters.”
“You and Cormac were as famous for your love as for your deeds.” She saw the look that crossed Shiara’s face. “I’m sorry, Lady, I did not mean to pain you.”
“Little enough pain in remembering the times you were happy, child.” She shook herself.
“Since you want my advice,” she went on practically, “the first thing I suggest is that you start with yourself.”
“I have done all I can, Lady.”
“Forgive me, that is not quite what I meant. From what you say, it sounds as if you have submerged yourself in the Sparrow and his work. You have told me much of him and his problems, but near nothing about you and what you do. It seems that as Wiz has risen in the World you have come down.”
“It is no small thing to be the wife of a member of the Council of the North and the mightiest wizard in the land,” Moira said.
“Aye, but that is reflected glory. What do you do yourself?” Shiara asked gently.
Moira stiffened.
“It is no small thing to be hedge witch of a village and have everyone look up to you,” Shiara went on. “You are someone in your own right and you do important work. At the Capital you have no such work and your place is less clear, is it not?”
“There is something in that,” she admitted grudgingly.
“One of the reasons Cormac and I were so in love was that we both had important work. Neither of us was identified by what the other did.”
Moira considered that. “So you are saying I should change?”
“It is easier and more certain to change yourself than to change another person.”
“And Wiz?”
“He must change too, in his own way.” Shiara frowned. “This may not work. You cannot do all the changing, nor will he change simply because you nag at him. You must both strive, and hard, to succeed.”