Midwinter

The violin was silenced and a chorus of singers appeared, chanting a complex aria of love and faith.

"She attempted to raise me in her belief, but my father would have none of it. He feared that Mother's religious predilection would interfere with his popularity at court, and it did. His influence began to wane as stories spread of her evangelism at our country estates."

A hazy vision appeared, Silverdun's mother dressed in court finery, on her knees in a country town square, washing the feet of beggars. Then, Silverdun in his cell at Crete Sulace on his own knees, praying.

"During my last year at the Academy, my father was thrown by his horse and killed. I was the only son, and I was forced to return home to attend to my father's estate and appoint an overseer, for I was still too young to manage everything."

Another sensation, this one of touch, cool hands on Silverdun's shoulders and hair, the sweet, light touch of a mother's love.

"My mother came to me after the funeral and asked me to give all of our family's possessions to the church. I was overwhelmed by my father's death. I thought perhaps I heard Aba's voice in my head telling me it was the correct thing."

Raieve felt Silverdun's anger flow in his veins. "I was now Lord Silverdun and it was my choice to make. Unfortunately, however, my father had two brothers, neither of whom saw me as anything more than an obstacle between themselves and the Lordship. When they heard of my mother's plan, they ran to their friends at court. Some constables and court officials were bribed; a member of the polity gave a judge some friendly advice. I don't know exactly how they did it, but they had me convicted of treason, for what I'm not exactly sure. Only my title saved my life. With me out of the way, they could run the lands as they wished."

The flow of mental images came to a stop. Silverdun breathed deeply. "For years I pretended that I did not care. Lately, though, as I peer at my reflection in my tiny looking glass, I realize that I have allowed my uncles' hatred to make me ugly. Perhaps my mother was simple for believing what she believed. Or perhaps I really did hear the voice of Aba that day. Either way, if I make it out of here alive I'm going to see to it that the Arcadians have my family lands, if for no other reason than to chill the hearts of those thieving bastards." He smiled ruefully. "That is not the story I meant to tell, but I am glad I told it. I am honored."

Raieve pulled herself out of his mind, reeling from the overload of sensations. His thoughts were rapid and overwhelming, full of colors and details, sights and sounds. Her own thoughts were simple and direct by comparison. She took a few deep breaths within her own skin, trying to fight the sensations of the icthula for a moment of clear thought. She found herself unable to ward off the sensory glut and for a moment began to panic, nearly vomiting into the fire.

It was her turn next. She spoke carefully, trying to appear if not calm, then at least sane. "I am Raieve, daughter of Raelin. I am a daughter of the Heavy Sky Clan of Avalon. Our clan is one of the few remaining matriarchal clans on the steppes. I've been called a mongrel and half-breed all my life and shamed for it. I've done everything I can to prove myself a pure-hearted Avalona, if not pure in blood. Was it my mother's fault that an Unseelie soldier wrested her innocence from her when she was merely a girl? Was she any less of a woman for that? Am I?"

She realized she was getting carried away, the force of the icthula dragging her emotions upward and outward, like a cloud of anger. She told the rest of her story through gritted teeth, of the Unseelie invasion and the chaos of their withdrawal. She told of her failed voyage to the Seelie Kingdom to recruit men and purchase supplies for her clan's bid for peace. And she told of her murder of the Seelie official and her arrest.

When she was finished, she heard Satterly whisper, "This is supposed to make us feel better?" She almost laughed.

It was Gray Mave's turn next. She sent out her awareness and nestled around him, searching for a path inward to his mind's core. She found her way in through his eyes and as soon as she was inside, she could tell something was very wrong.

Inside Mave's mind there was a single word repeating over and over, like the sound of a windmill or waterwheel. The word was "Why?" It tumbled through every thought. "Why, why, why, why, why?"

As he leaned forward to begin his story, he clutched at his chest. Raieve could feel the burning soreness of the wound, the deep hot ache of it. The buggane's sword had been poisoned. Gray Mave was dying and he knew it. "I deserve this," he thought to himself.