Holder of Lightning

Jenna touched the cloch as the Creneach gestured again to her, its voice a liquid sibilance almost like a bird’s call. As she did so, she felt that same presence of a clochmion, focused in all of the Creneach before her-not hung about them like jewelry, the way she carried Lamh Shabhala, but inside. A part of their being.

Glancing back once at Seancoim, she went forward slowly, stopping an arm's length from the creature. Now that she was close, she could see umber eyes that reflected light back at her as it stared up toward her, as a cat's eyes might. The skin was unnaturally smooth, flecked with color like polished granite, and muscles bulged in arms, the torso, and legs. The unclothed being in front of her seemed to possess no gender at all; like its two companions, there was only a smoothness where she would have expected to see genitalia. The Creneach had no nose; instead, twin fissures ran between the eyes, each curling outward and under the deep eye sock-ets. The nasal openings flexed as the creature inhaled deeply in Jenna's direction, still venting its warbling noises. It leaned closer to Jenna, its head level with the cloch hanging on its chain. It snuffled and a trill of musical notes came from its mouth. A long tongue flicked out, a flash purple. Before Jenna could react, the creature licked at Lamh Shabhala the long, thin tip snaking between the silver wire of its cage before retracting. The creature smacked its lips, its eyes half closed as if considering the taste as Jenna's hand went belatedly to the cloch. She closed her hand around it, stepping back. The Creneach gave a final smack and turned to its companions; they conversed loudly in their own language for a moment.

Jenna opened Lamh Shabhala, and in the cloch-hearing, words mingled with the warbling voice as the Creneach swiveled to face her again. "Soft-flesh bears the All-Heart. She returns to us. Soft-flesh will follow." It beck-oned as the trio turned and started to waddle away between the rocks.

"Wait!" Jenna called to it, wondering if it could understand her through the clochmion inside it as Thraisha had understood her. "Who are you? What do you want?"

It looked at her. "You may call me Treorai, for I've come to escort you," it said, then continued to walk away.

Jenna glanced at Seancoim. He was already shuffling to follow them, his staff clattering against the rocks. She released the cloch, not wanting the Creneach to overhear her. "You're going to follow them?" she asked. "Seancoim, we don't know them or what they might intend to do."

"They seem to know where they're going," he

He smiled at her. Denmark cackled on his shoulder.

Jenna grimaced, but she followed.

Chapter 51: The Tale of All-Heart

TREORAI and its companions led them on a winding, upward path between two peaks. After a long climb, Terrain turned abruptly, de-scending by a set of steep and narrow stone steps into a barely-visible cleft. They followed the stairs down, then walked another mile or so be-fore again turning through a jagged fissure into a short passage and out into a small valley. The moon had risen by then, and Jenna could see a few other Creneach there as well as the black openings of caverns set in the overhanging, furrowed cliffs that lined the hidden spot. There were no more than fifteen of the creatures; in the cloch-vision, Jenna could sense that each of them held within it a clochmion. . and that there was one spot of greater brightness: a Cloch Mor.

She had stopped at the entrance, though Seancoim continued on. Terrain gestured for her to come forward. "Soft-flesh, bring the All-Heart," it said, the words sounding in her head while her ears heard the musical trill of its voice. Jenna hesitated, but Seancoim was standing there also, with the Creneach around him and seemingly unconcerned. Denmark flew over to Jenna, circled her once with a harsh caw, then flew back to Seancoim. She took a hesitant step forward as the Creneach gathered around her like a crowd of strangely-sculpted children. They sniffed and their tongues flicked out to touch her right hand, curled protectively around Lamh Shabhala. The touch of them was strange: cool and smooth, yet strangely hard-like fired and glazed pottery that was impossibly pli-able. She could hear the whispers as they huddled close, their voices crowding inside her head.

". . the All-Heart. ."

". . ahh, the taste. ."

"… it comes back to us…"

"… bring the Littlest to see…"

Jenna saw one of the Creneach push forward as the others made way It carried a small form in its arms: an infant Creneach, the tiny body smooth and marbled with color, its arms waving as each Creneach they passed touched it with its tongue.

There was a brilliance in the cloch-vision: the Cloch Mor was within the child.