I shivered again, blinking back tears—and my new deeper vision shocked into me against my will. I had been fighting it, not looking deep into her eyes, not wanting to know, for now I could see the truth of her: the desperate fear, the courage it had taken to dare this meeting, the resolve that held her to her course in the face of such pain, risking all in the name of hope.

"That's it, and all the truth of it," she said. "I found out about eight years ago that I need not have left you. The Farseer didn't work the way I thought it did." She managed a wry smile. "Berys was just being enthusiastic. By then, though, I feared—well, this." She shrugged, her hands turned palms up and open in surrender. "Should have faced this the moment I learned the truth, shouldn't I? Got it wrong again. That's no great surprise."

She stood there, waiting. When I said nothing—how could I speak in the face of this revelation, with twenty-four years of thoughts and feelings still fighting to get out?—she nodded, and those broad shoulders slumped even as her chin rose. "As you will, Daughter," she said, and turned to go.

I was ready to curse my new sight, for I could see pain scoring her soul like terrible weals from a whip. Odd, I thought. That's how I feel.

Well yes, idiot. That's the point, isn't it?

"Mother?" I whispered after her.

She stopped and turned back to me slowly, hardly daring to believe what she had heard.

"Mother, please, I—oh, Hells, don't bloody leave again!" I cried. She was back in a moment, and we finally dared an embrace.

What ever happened to the strength of lonely despair? I asked myself mockingly, even as I felt my mother's arms around me for the first time, even as I clung to her. I thought that was what made us strong?

No, I corrected myself. That was what helped us survive. Knowing that love had not deserted us, even when we couldn't feel it—-Jamie and Varien, our babes unborn, now perhaps Maran/Mother—that's what has always made us strong.

We did not hold each other for long, and we both knew as we drew apart that this was only the beginning, but—I cannot speak for her, but I felt something very small, very deep inside me, change. As if a wound deep within had stopped bleeding at last; as if a loose brick deep in a well had been mended and the clear water could begin to find its true level.

We were not given long to consider our meeting, for at that moment Jamie and Rella came striding up to us.

'Thank Shia you two have finally stopped shouting," growled Rella. "I'm sorry, but there is no more time for this. We need your help now, Maran."

She grabbed each of us by an arm and drew us away, past where Rikard and his students were laying out the body of poor Donal. There was quite a crowd of the townsfolk starting to gather.

Varien appeared again at my side. I took great comfort from his presence, though I still felt—detached from myself. Everything seemed so unreal.

Rella was busy explaining to Maran about the corrupt Healers, and why she and Jamie needed the Farseer. "Can you find him?" she demanded. "I never have understood the limits of that thing."

"Oh, I can find him, certain sure," said Maran, frowning. She seemed to be having as much trouble as I was, trying to wrench her mind back to the matter at hand. "The dragons aren't going to like the smell of me doing it, though."

"I feel certain that Shikrar will forgive its use in so worthy a case," said Varien, a crooked smile on his face.

Maran shrugged off her pack and carefully withdrew the Farseer. I remember thinking it had no business looking so normal. Just a big glass ball. "There is a difficulty, however. I may well not recognise what I'm seeing." She turned to Rella. "This is where you get to work for your information, my friend. I gave up wandering twenty years ago."

My mother—how strange, to say that!—my mother knelt down, putting the smoky glass globe on the ground before her knees, and we all gathered round. Will had wandered over to see what we were doing. Jamie and Rella were nearest, as they had travelled most.

I think I was expecting some kind of ritual. Far from it. She put her hands on either side of it and said clearly, "Show me Berys," and instantly an image formed in the globe. It was him, sure enough, in an airy, well-lit room, asleep in the middle of the day on a luxurious bed. I thought of sleeping on the stone bench in my bare cell and wished him seven kinds of ill.

"It could be anywhere," said Jamie, fidgeting in bis frustration, trying to see around the edges of the image. "Can you—does the thing move?"

"What do you mean?"

"Getting a look out that window would be a good start," said Rella, shivering. I looked up. The morning was starting to cloud over and a nasty cold wind was gleefully searching out every loose seam and unmended tear in my old clothing.

"I'll try," said Maran doubtfully, turning back to the Farseer. I noticed she had to be touching it for it to work. "Show me the view out of the window there."

I blinked. Berys was gone, and in his place there rose up high, snowcapped mountains, ridge upon ridge stretching away into the distance, the bright sun gleaming full on the white peaks. Away below and to the left was a large placid lake, the far shore lost in a haze. In the center of the lake a small hillock, an island ringed with trees, boasted a high and ancient oak in its centre. That wooden monarch stood tall and leafless yet, only a haze of green about it showing that spring was well under way.

Jamie cursed, roundly and creatively. It helped a little, but not enough. "He's in the East Mountain Kingdom," he spat. "Hells' teeth! And damn me if I don't even know the place. It's only bloody Castle bloody Gundar! Where else? Marik's ancestral home." He rose to his feet and stamped about, beating his frustration upon the ground as he paced. "Curse it! If I'd had half a brain I'd have guessed they'd go there, but how in the name of the Lady did they get that far away that fast?"

"Demonlines, of course," said Vilkas quietly, and I wasn't the only one who jumped. He, Will, and Aral had joined us silently, while we were absolutely focussed on the Farseer. Vilkas sounded grim. "Berys must have set this one up a long time ago. You need to travel the distance in the real world to set the things up in the first place. He must have been planning this for years."

Jamie gazed up at Vilkas, his eyes alight again for a moment. "Just remember, lad, I'm first in line." He swore. "If we manage to get to him in our lifetimes. It's on the other side of Kolmar, hundreds of long leagues from here. How in all the Hells are we going to get there this side of winter?"

"I'd have thought that part was reasonably obvious," said Varien dryly. I shared a glance with him and smiled. Varien raised his chin in the direction of the mournful little group around Donal's remains, and there stood Shikrar, all the lovely size of him, his great wings folded neatly over his back.

"Oh," said Jamie. Then I swear, for the first time in my life, I saw him blush. "I really am an idiot," he murmured, grinning.

"Shikrar cannot carry us all, of course," began Varien.

"Truly," interrupted Vilkas. "It seems clear who must go. Jamie and I..."

"We are therefore fortunate," continued Varien more loudly, "that there are a hundred and eighty-six others nearby from whom we may request assistance. I would not ask it of the Aiala, though some of the Dhrenagan may wish to be of assistance." He grinned. "It will give them something to do."

Will, who was watching Salera and paying more attention than the rest of us, said, "That crowd's getting bloody noisy for mourners."

We turned as one. There were quite a few raised voices. I exchanged a glance with Varien and we hurried over to where Shikrar stood.