Had the old mews always led there?

He had never discovered any other place fromYnefel. He had run amongst the Shadows in Ynefel and not known to fear them— at least not the little ones that came out and went back again in the trickery of candlelight. The stone faces within the walls of Ynefel . . . they were Shadows, themselves, of a sort, that seemed to change and shift on uneasy nights.

And were they destroyed when he drove out Hasufin? Or did they still stand?

"The mews leads to Ynefel, and leads from," he said to Uwen. "And it's a cold spot in this hall. It's the cold spots I like least. Shadows there always are, but the cold ones are never happy."

"What isthat place?" Uwen asked. "We saw the light, things flutterin' and movin', leastwise we thought we saw. We agreed we might ha' seen.—And I could see you, almost, but for the life o' me, all I touched was solid stone."

"Could you see that much?" Tristen asked, surprised and all attention, now.

"I don't know ye could quite call it seein'," Uwen said. "It wasn't like I was lookin' with me eyes."

"You saw into the gray place. Into the haunt. If it opens to you, don't go in, no matter what. Stand on solid ground, and call to me if you find reason to take alarm."

"Take alarm, lad!" Uwen laughed. "I was cold scairt!"

"Did yousee it?" Tristen asked the other guards, Lusin and Syllan, Tawwys and Aran. "What did you see?"

"Like the cap'n," Lusin said. "Not at first, but the longer we stood there, we all saw a blue light, cold-like. It weren't fire and it didn't burn. And ye come walking toward us like a movin' bright light, and ye had this owl wi' ye."

"Which hadn't any place it come from, that any of us could see," Tawwys said. "He scares the lot of us, perchin' outside your door, starin' while we're on watch."

"Does he? I'd thought he was in the stables."

"He comes an' goes," Tawwys said, and Aran:

"An' he ain't friendly. He bit Syllan's finger."

"I offered 'im a tidbit," Syllan said, "but 'e weren't grateful."

"He's not," Tristen said, and considered the wounds Owl'had dealt him, with the stain on his fingertips. "I fear he'll eat the pigeons. But I can't wish him away."

"Why not?" Uwen asked.

"For one thing, I don't think it would do any good and for another I don't think I ought to. He lived in the loft when I was at Ynefel. When I lost my way in Marna Wood he guided me. And on Lewen field he flew ahead of me. He's always there when I don't know where to go."

"Then he has a use," Uwen said.

"He seems to. At least when he flies I'm not lost. He's here now, and I don't see my way through, but he's here." He had not thought of Owl's presence as a comfort, but he began to think that way. "Someday he'll fly, and I'll know it's time to follow him."

"Don't ye talk of goin' after that bird!" Uwen said. "Or of followin' 'im. I don't trust 'im, not a bit. An' if he goes to Ynefel or worse, don't ye dare go wi'out me. There's roads. We can take 'em, the lot of us."

He was silent. He dared not promise that. He looked at Uwen's honest, worried face. "I can't promise you," he said, and looked away again with a shake of his head, as honest with Uwen in return.

CHAPTER 4

There seemed no courteous way to write the letter that circumstances required. Two pieces of paper, three, four, and five Tristen used, and cast each attempt away into the fire of the hearth near his desk. He had every confidence in Tassand and his servant staff, but he found the letters too painful to have lying about, and he would not leave them a moment on his desk—or send them to his friend.

Orien Aswydd came with her sister Tarien. Tarien is with child, which is yours, and a wizard…

… Orien and Tarien Aswydd fled Anwyfar when men attacked it. Tarien has your child, a son, and he has the wizard-gift…

With the Aswydds in residence a few stone walls away it was folly to carry difficult consultation to the gray space, and he feared he was growing so distraught with the letters he had become easy to overhear. He felt alone, abandoned by his friend, by his advisor. He had somehow to say a thing which he knew would bring pain to two he loved, and which might, in the wrong hands, bring bloodshed and war, and he could not find the words to take away the sting of that unanticipated revelation.

Tarien Aswydd came here for refuge and will bear a child in perhaps a month, which…

The sixth attempt went into the fire. He rested his head against his hands, checked his fingers belatedly for ink—they were clean— and at that one practical thought knew that his later attempts at gentle advisement were worse, not better.

At that point he left his desk in his apartment, gathered only Lusin and Syllan to guard him, and went to Emuin's tower.

He rapped, pushed the latch, and discovered the old man, far from having lain sleepless during his hours of flailing about the edges of the gray space, had fallen sound asleep in his chair. Young Paisi was curled by the fire like a young hound, and their supper dishes stood empty on a table cluttered with charts.

He eased the door shut. The latch went down, and stung, doing so.

Emuin's head came up. Eyes blinked, as if trying to resolve what they saw.

"Well, well," Emuin said. "Is there trouble? Or more trouble?"

"Forgive me. I need words, master Emuin."

Two blinks more. "Words for Cefwyn?"

"Yes, sir."

"Oh, try follyand prodigious fool."

"You don't mean that, sir."

At this point Paisi waked, looking exhausted and startled at once.

"Oh, I mean it," Emuin said, ignoring the boy. "I said it then, damn his stubborn ways, and I say it again."

"But I can't. Do I say to him… Tarien Aswydd has your child, a son? That's what I've written."

"That's fair enough. That should inform a thoughtful young man he's been a fool. That's the essence of the report, isn't it? Maybe he'll hear it from you."

"He listens to you."

"Not in this."

"Ninévrisë will be upset with him, won't she?"

"Oh, I imagine she'll be somewhat upset. She's a lady capable of setting aside her heart's feeling to serve her common sense, but this will test the limit, I rather think."

There had been a time he had not understood Emuin's humors, or his ironies. Now they cut keenly, but he knew that they shielded a worried and fond heart.

"What will she do when she knows?"

"All of that is Cefwyn's to deal with," Emuin said brusquely, not yours. You're not the keeper of his conscience, nor am I. Just deliver him what he needs to know, and let him find the way through this maze. It's enough we have the lady in keeping and she's not making pilgrimage to Guelemara this winter. At very leastwe'll deal with the birth. I don't know what more we can do with the plain, unpleasant truth."

"Am I not to be his friend? Wasn't that your advice? And Wouldn't a friend give him something more than just… the plain truth, on a paper? Shouldn't I have something else to say? Shouldn't I be wise enough to have advice?"

Emuin's frown eased, and the fierce scowl revised itself into a more pensive, wounded look.

"Or can't youadvise him, sir?" Tristen leaned both hands on the table, on the welter of charts and dishes. "You came here with me, and you left him to fend for himself. Idrys is clever, and Her Grace is wise, and Annas is kind, but youaren't there, and I think he'd truly wish you were with him when he reads this letter. He needs your advice. He needs it most of all."