She closed her eyes and panted to regain her breath. The laughter in the air died. She sat up. Others were standing motionless nearby, staring into the darkness. Charis climbed to her feet.

A looming, dark shape waited just beyond the periphery of the light. As Charis watched, the shape moved, advanced slowly toward them. The silent dancers backed away. The mysterious shape drew closer to the light and the mass of darkness resolved itself into the arms and legs, head and torso of a man.

He did not advance further but stood just at the edge of the light, looking at them. From a place just a little above his shoulder Charis saw a cold glimmer of yellow light, a frozen shimmer, like the wink of a cat’s eye in the dark.

Charis felt an icy sensation of recognition. She knew who stood there watching them. The stranger made no further move toward them, but Charis could feel his unseen stare. Then he turned and walked away as silently as he had come.

Some of the older boys snickered and called after him- rude taunts and insults-but the man had vanished in the darkness. The others quickly formed another serpentine, but Charis did not feel like dancing anymore and returned to her place at the table, where she sat for the remainder of the evening despite Liban’s repeated urging to join in the fun.

The moon had long ago risen and now rode a balmy night breeze, spilling its silver light over the land. When the guests had had enough of food and celebration, the carriages were summoned and people began making their way back to the palace.

Charis, half-asleep, was bundled into the royal carriage where she curled into a corner and closed her eyes.

“Look!”

The voice was sharp in her ears; Charis stirred.

“There… another!” someone else said.

Charis opened her eyes and raised her head. All around her people were peering into the heavens; so Charis too raised her eyes to the night-dark sky. The heavens glimmered with the light of so many stars that it seemed as if a tremendous celestial fire burned in the firmament of the gods, shining through myriads of tiny chips in the skybowl.

As she watched, keen-eyed in the darkness, a star slashed across the heavens to plunge into the sea beyond the palace. Instantly another fell, and another. She turned to her mother and was about to speak when she saw a light flash on her mother’s face and all cried out at once.

Charis glanced back and saw the sky flamed in a brilliant blaze, hundreds of stars plummeting to earth, arcing through the night like a glittering fall of fire from on high. Down and down they came, striking through the night like burning brands thrown into dark Oceanus.

“Will it ever stop?” wondered Charis, her eyes bright with the light of falling stars. “Oh, look at them, Mother! All the stars of heaven must be falling! It is a sign.”

“A sign,” murmured Briseis. “Yes, a very great sign.”

As suddenly as it began, the starshower was over. An unnatural stillness settled over the land-as if the whole world waited to see what would happen next. But nothing did happen. Mute spectators turned to one another as if to say, Did you see it too? Did it really happen or did I imagine it?

Slowly the nightsounds crept into the air again, and the people started back to the palace once more. But the queen stood gazing at the sky for a long time before taking her place in the carriage with others in the party. Charis shivered and rubbed her arms with her hands, feeling the breath of a chill touch her bones.

The carriages rolled over the starlit meadow to Seithenin’s palace. When they arrived, guests alighted and filed slowly into the hall, many talking in hushed but animated tones about what they had seen. Briseis turned to see Annubi standing alone, gazing into the sky. “I will join you in a moment,” she told the others and returned to where he stood. “What did you see, Annubi?” she asked when they were alone together.

The seer lowered his eyes to look at her and she saw sadness veil his vision like a mist in his eyes. “I saw stars fall from the sky on a cloudless night. I saw fire rake the furrows of Oceanus’ waves.”

“Do not speak to me in Mage’s riddles,” said Briseis softly. “Tell me plainly, what did you see?”

“My queen,” replied Annubi, “I am no Mage or I would see more plainly. As it is, I see only what is permitted me, no more.”

“Annubi,” Briseis chided gently, “I know better. Tell me what you saw.”

He turned to stare at the sky once more. “I saw the light of life extinguished in the deep.”

The queen thought about this for a moment and then asked, “Whose life?”

“Whose indeed?” He gazed into the star-filled night. “I cannot say.”

“But surely”

“You asked what I saw,” Annubi snapped, “and I have told you.” He turned brusquely and started away. “More I cannot say.”

Briseis watched him go and then rejoined the others inside.

Annubi walked the terraced gardens alone, lost to the world of the senses as his feet wandered the shadowy pathways of the future which had been so fleetingly revealed in the glittering light of the starfall.

Elphin and his companions forded the river and fol-lowed the wooded track along the southern bank, until they came at last to the gently sloping headland which overlooked the Aberdyvi, and upon whose flat crown lay the hillfort of Elphin’s father. They passed pens with ruddy pigs and dun-colored cattle that lifted their heads to watch them as they climbed the rock-strewn track past thatch-and-twig outbuildings to the ditch-encircled caer.

In Caer Dyvi the riders were greeted with the tight-lipped stares of the clansmen, none of whom appeared especially glad to see Elphin or were greatly cheered by the sight of two strange women with him or their meager flock of bleating sheep.

Nevertheless, by the time the riders reached the large dwelling in the center of the caer, they had attracted a sizable” following of curious kinsmen. Gwyddno emerged from the house with Medhir, who carried the babe Taliesin in her arms. “Greetings, Elphin!” called Gwyddno. “You have returned successful, I see.”

“More than successful, Father,” answered Elphin. “I went in search of a nurse and have returned with a wife.” He slid from the saddle and helped Rhonwyn dismount to the murmured surprise of the onlookers.

“A wife!” cried Medhir. “Is this so?”

“It is,” answered Eithne. Medhir saw her kinswoman climbing down from the red mare.

“Eithne!” Medhir, cradling the infant, ran to her cousin. “The sight of you warms my heart. Welcome!”

The two women embraced, and Eithne looked down at the sleeping child. “This must be the babe Elphin has found.”

“The same, to be sure.” Medhir lifted the infant’s wraps so Eithne could see.

“Oh, such a beautiful, beautiful child! Elphin said the little one was comely, but he did not say it was this fair. Why, if there is an equal I have never seen it.”

“The same might be said for your daughter,” replied Medhir, gazing with approval at the young woman beside her son. “Little Rhonwyn, it is this long since I have seen you. Ah, but the girl is a woman now-look at you, all grown, and a beauty.” She embraced the blushing Rhonwyn while Elphin stood beaming. “Welcome to you.”

Taliesin stirred and cried out. Medhir handed the infant to Rhonwyn, saying, “It is all one can do to keep the child fed. He is hungry all the time.”

Rhonwyn parted the coverlet and gazed at the infant. Surprised by the sunlight, the babe stopped crying and, seeing the face above him, gurgled softly and smiled. “Look at that!” said Gwyddno. “She has but to hold the babe and he quiets. That is a mother’s own touch.”

“He is beautiful,” said Rhonwyn, who had not taken her eyes from the child.

“But what of this marriage?” asked Gwyddno, regarding his son happily. “This is unexpected.”