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.Stale air rushed out of the opening, causing the torchlight to gutter and dance.But after a moment it stilled, and flame bloomed afresh."Safe," he murmured, and took the torch back from Shona."Stay close behind me, meijhana.If the stairs are damp, they can be dangerous."Shona's tone was dry."Aye.I'd not be knowing aught of such a thing, island-born as I am.""I meant because of your skirts.You're not knowing much about them." Aidan cast her a bright glance, then started down the shallow stairs, thrusting the torch before him.The staircase was cut directly out of solid stone, pitched steep and narrow.He had been told the stairs numbered one hundred and two; for the first time in his life, he counted."Gods," Shona breathed "how deep do we go?"Her voice echoed oddly from behind."Not so deep," he answered."Not so deep as the Womb itself."Shona said nothing else until they reached the bottom.The ending was abrupt and without warning, in a small closet, until, Aidan found the proper keystone and pressed.A portion of the wall grated on edge, turning; blackness gaped before them.Torchlight spilled into the vault, caressing veins of gold and the smooth ivory silk of polished marble.From out of the shadows lir leaped, breaking free of marble bonds, tearing wings and beaks and claws out of stone.Wolf, bear, mountain cat; hawk, falcon, eagle.And countless other lir, twisted this way and that, as if once they had lived to walk the earth or ride the skies."Gods—" Shona breathed."Lir," Aidan responded."Look at all of them…" Shona leaned forward, edging toward the vault."Can we go in?""Aye.Beware the oubliette."She looked.In the center of the vault, half-shrouded in distorted torchlight, spread the nothingness of the Womb.A flawlessly rounded hole, rimmed with rune-scribed marble, dropping straight down into the depths of the earth itself.The oubliette was three paces equidistant from the four lir-worked walls.She was in awe, but not fear.Shona took two steps inside the vault, then turned back.He saw comprehension in her eyes, and a vast, abiding acknowledgment.She was, as he was, Cheysuli, child of the gods, born of the earth and the wind and the sky; born to pride and power and magic.Shona smiled.She put out her hand, and he took it.Two steps and he was beside her, within the vault housing the Womb; together they gazed on the fir, marveling at the artistry that made them so alive, so vibrant within the stone.Even the ceiling was worked with lir of all shapes and sizes, struggling to burst free.In the distorting torchlight, all of them seemed to lean toward the open door, as if longing to exit the vault.As if they could, given leave.Given the power to do so.Aidan shivered.Shona laughed softly and squeezed his hand."Aye.I feel it, too.D'ye see? Each of them means to go."He felt curiously distant."One day, each of them will.""What?"He shook himself."What?""What you said, Aidan.'One day, each of them will.' " Shona stared at him."What were you meaning by that?""I said that?""Just now." She frowned."Have you forgotten already?"He shivered again, glancing around."It is this place.I feel it in my bones.A cold, deep darkness…" He peered over the edge of the oubliette without moving so much as a toe."There is a story that one of our kinsmen threw himself into the Womb."She was properly horrified."Down there?""Aye.Carillon.""But—Carillon was Mujhar." Shona's tone was puzzled."If he threw himself into the Womb, how did he become Mujhar? Did he not die?""Not then.Supposedly he became Mujhar because he threw himself into the Womb." Aidan frowned, peering around the vault."They say at one time it was how a true Mujhar was judged worthy.He went in a child and came out a man; went in a prince, came out a king.He was born of the Jehan." Aidan looked at her, marking her expression."It is one of the stories, Shona.I doubt there is truth to it.""My mother never told me that.""Aye, well…" He shrugged."There are hundreds of stories about our ancestors, meijhana—and doubtless one day there will be as many about us."Shona arched a brow."And children to tell them to?"He grinned."One day."She touched the knotted girdle."Sooner than that, I'm thinking."He opened his mouth to question her, but the kivarna flared up even as she laughed.While he could not sense the presence of the child, he knew the truth without a doubt.Shona's emotions were to easy to read."Gods," he blurted, "when?"She smoothed a hand over the girdle, rattling its weight of gems.In the torchlight, colors flashed."Did you truly not guess?""No." He looked."Not even now.Are you certain?""Oh, aye." She made a face."To me, I'm showing—see how the gown barely fits? And how short the girdle is tied?" She sighed, twisting her mouth."I meant to hide it, so I could tell you closer to my lying-in… but Aileen and Deirdre saw it too soon.They sent the midwife to me." She grinned."Three months, my lord… and we'll have us a wee bairn of our own.""Three months—"She nodded."I'm so tall and wide, the babe is spread all over.If I were a smaller woman, there'd be more bairn here." She put a hand to her belly.He was not thinking of that."But that would mean…" He paused, counting back."That would mean we were still in Erinn."Shona nodded."And, by the days, 'twas that first night together." She laughed."You're a potent one, I'm thinking."Aidan frowned."I thought it was the Homanan food.""So, you did notice!" She scowled fiercely, though without much sincerety."Too polite to mention you thought I was getting fat?"He colored."There are more flattering things to discuss.""Aye, well…" Shona grinned."Does it matter? 'Tis a bairn, not too much Homanan food—will it be a lad, d'ye think?""How am I to know?" Aidan slid the torch into a bracket by the door and turned to pull her close."And does it matter? If not, there will time for us to make a lad.""Six or seven," she agreed, and then blurted out a garbled sound of shock."Aidan—look—"He swung from her, alerted by the very real alarm in her tone, and saw the shadow stretching down into the door.And then the man who wore it, stepping into guttering torchlight to stare blindly at them both.Silvering black hair was long and unkempt, tangling on his shoulders; leathers were stained and tattered, fitting his frame too loosely; bare arms were naked of lir-gold.But the marks of armbands remained, graven into flesh.As much as the loss of them—and his lir—were graven into his spirit.Teirnan of the a'saii was well and truly mad.Foreboding swept in.Aidan touched the hilt of his knife."What do you want?"Teirnan stood framed in the doorway.His tone was an odd amalgam of detachment and intensity."What I have always wanted."He felt rather than heard Shona's movement behind him.Instinctively he put out a shielding hand, thinking of the unborn child."How did you get in?"Teirnan's smile was a travesty."Such a thing to ask a Cheysuli."Aidan swallowed back increasing trepidation
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