The sun, almost at full height, struck Sherath warmly on his shoulders through the jacket. But not quite warmly enough to dispel the cold that ate into his bones. He sat on Moondust's back, content to be merely a passenger.

Tarke glanced across at him, using Awareness very lightly.

– I can feel it, Tarke, he said, smiling. Very subtle, but still there.

– That took more out of you than you're prepared to admit, Sherath.

– How can I deny it – to you? You keep wandering into my mind.

– If it hadn't taken so much out of you, you would be shutting me out.

– Never.

– No? Who do you think you're kidding? She smiled. Sherath, you're burning yourself out.

– I had to use it all. We would never have got through without it. I had no idea he would fight quite so hard, even asleep.

– I'm glad Piet and Karinna were there. It helped to have someone who knew him so well.

– In spite of everything, I couldn't find it in me to hate him, Tarke. Okay, he's spent all his adult life being mistrustful and hateful...

– And violent, Tarke added.

– I wonder if that woman he killed was also half-Elven. If that was why he lost control.

– He didn't only kill her, Sherath. It was what went before that was hurting him so much.

– And yet he loved her, in his own way. And has never felt the loss – never allowed himself to.

– Poor Bern. He has all that yet to come.

– Yes. I wish we could have helped more than we did. When he wakes up he's going to realise what it was that he lost.

– You can't solve everyone's problems for them. I know you'd like to – but there are things that people have to do for themselves. And if I had let you solve that problem for him as well, Sherath, you would have been in danger of outrunning your own strength. We can't afford to have you burnt out for three days or more. I know you're incredibly strong, but you haven't yet got half the strength that you will have. You have all the Awareness of what you should be able to do as an enabled adult; and all the wish to do it. But with all the will in the world, you are not yet what you will be. One leaf is not enough. She grinned at him. I can see enough of you to know what you will be. Can you?

Sherath laughed. – I will be asleep soon. That is all I know. Piet was sorry to lose the unicorns, wasn't he?

– Yes. I suppose that herd they have has continued to breed unicorns because they knew that there was so much Elvish blood in those people. Even if the people didn't. The first unicorn probably came there with Karinna's ancestors. Piet's line is a much more recent addition.

– There are at least two unicorn foals that will be born next year; I felt their Presence. And there will be more. Sherath looked over to Tarke and smiled. It's good to have unicorns back, Tarke. We have been so long without them.

Beneath him, Moondust whickered softly ....it is also good to have Elves back, Sherath. We have missed you, too. His thought was echoed by the filly.

"YES!" Sherath shouted. "Yes, ye gods, yes! Tarke?"

"Yes, I Hear them. Oh, Sherath.... what is happening?"

"Things," said Sherath. "Things are starting to happen." He leaned down and hugged Moondust round the neck. – Moondust, I love you, he said.

– Likewise, Sherath, came the answer. And always will. There is no end to what we – Elves and Unicorns – can do, together. It is given by Dominn; to safeguard the worlds. Elves and unicorns, together, linked, can hold the Evil One at bay. With Dominn's help. It is why we were created as we are.

– Moondust, said Tarke, hesitantly.

– Yes, Little Sister?

– If Dominn is all-powerful why is there an Evil One?

– Because Dominn gives everything, Little Sister. Even freedom of choice. Dominn does not permit slavery, even in the name of Good. The Evil One might enslave you; Dominn would never. The difference is in love. The Evil One feels no love for you as Dominn does. Those who follow Dominn do so by choice, not by force. Do you understand?

– I think so.

– I understand, said Sherath. That kind of love. The love that is strong enough to let go, because of the love; not in spite of it. That will give freedom to that which you love even if it means losing that which you love. Anything else is not love. Love is not selfish.

– No, said Moondust. Love does not say "You belong to me." Love says "You belong to you."

– Love may guide, said Moonwind. Love may coax; love may reason; love may teach; love may reprimand in guidance, but never harshly; love may not punish to gain possession; love does not possess. The wish to possess something or someone is not love. Love is not jealous. Love gives. It may ask – it does not demand. Love does not hate. Love bears all things, forgives all things, sees all things, accepts you for what you are – not for what it wants you to be. Love has no desire for ownership. Love wants you to be you – be yourself: be wholly yourself – it does not wish you to be part of that which says it loves.

***

Farinka lay in the grass, letting the warmth of the sunshine wash over her. Louka sat nearby, chewing absentmindedly on a stalk of grass, and looking at the small group of packbeasts which grazed the far side of the meadow. They were curious, glancing up occasionally to watch the three beasts which stayed close to the tents.

"I wonder why our beasts don't go and join them," mused Louka.

"Perhaps their stallion hasn't issued an invite," suggested Farinka.

"Or perhaps our unicorns told them not to," offered Nemeth, coming over to join them. "They're being very co-operative. More so than I would have expected."

"This is true," said Farinka, looking over at him. "I didn't ask Moondust to, though."

"You didn't have to," said Nemeth. "He has no wish to make our lives more difficult than they need to be."

"In that case, why didn't he help out with catching them that first time after they were gelded?" asked Louka.

"Because he was there?" suggested Nemeth. "Because he could step in at any time when it looked as though someone might get hurt? Which he did, when it came to it. Because we, too, needed to learn that not everything is that easy? But if he's not there to help, he may have issued a blanket order for good behaviour. Possible?" he asked Farinka.

"Possible. Nice thinking, Nemeth."

Nemeth grinned. "I've never been unable to think straight," he answered.

"Yet," said Farinka, grinning back at him. "There's always a first time. And remember I told you so, when it happens."

– And I suppose you know so much about that, eh? he asked on a very tight wavelength.

– A damn' sight more than you do, sunshine. You don't know you're born, Nemeth. Wait till it hits you.

He laughed. – That'll be the day. I am always in control of my own brain.

– Bullshit. You don't know what you're talking about. I do.

– So show me?

– You don't have what it takes to be able to understand, Nemeth. Not yet. You'll find out – and it may not be me who shows you.

– It might.

– All things are possible.

– I could always listen to your dreams, Domina. Even Sherath can be unwary in guarding some of his thoughts.

– You and your brother are too bloody in tune with each other for my comfort, Nemeth.

– We always have been. Nobody knows me as Sherath does. And vice versa. Although I wonder about Tarke, sometimes....

– With regard to knowledge of you, or of him?

– Both. She is very ... perceptive. Her Awareness is powerfully acute. It is part of what makes her such a good Counsellor. And she has an amazing capacity to guard her own thoughts. And talk of the devil, here they come.

He stood up again.

– We are back. The Power behind Moondust's Voice hit them all, and the strong soft warmth of Moonwind's was like the sunshine. The ricochet effects of the combined Children's Awareness of the unicorns reverberated around, almost crackling in the air as the recognition hit them.

– Oh, you are back! Nemeth's thought went winging across to Moonwind as the filly raced towards him, her hooves tearing up ribbons of turf as she skidded to a halt close to him, reaching for him with her muzzle and pulling him close to her. Really back. He extended the Awareness through to Tarke, who slid from the filly's back, breathless, to land with her arms round his shoulders. Moonwind lipped at Tarke's hair, enfolding her in a three-way mindlink before letting them both go. How did it happen? Nemeth asked, looking into Moonwind's eyes.

– It was like waking up out of a dream, she answered.

– Yes, echoed Moondust, surrounded by Children stroking him. He nuzzled carefully at those within reach of his nose. Little ones, leave room for Sherath to get down. He is tired. The Children retreated just far enough to let Sherath slide from the unicorn's back before closing in to include him in a multi-Child hug. Sherath's eyes, laughing, met Farinka's over their heads.

– Domina. He let the Awareness wash over her.

– Sherath. It went well?

– Yes. Hard, but it went well.

– Sherath, there's a herd of wild packbeasts here ... could we get some of them? To trade?

He laughed. – Yes, Domina. Tomorrow, okay? I didn't sleep last night. I need to rest. Stay with me? he added quietly, his eyes echoing the question. I'd appreciate the company, even asleep. He freed himself from the smaller Children gently. "Little ones, I love you too. But give me room to breathe, yes?"

***

Bern limped over to the packbeast meadow, weary and dispirited. Behind him, the others sat by the hearth. Piet watched him go.

– Is he all right? asked Jaimeh.

– I hope so. He just needs some time to himself, Piet answered. Give him time. It's probably all he needs, now.

Bern's black mare watched him approach, and left the group to walk over to him, whickering softly through her nostrils. He came over to her, and rubbed her forehead, smoothing tangles out of her forelock gently with his big rough hands. She lipped gently at his jacket, searching for titbits. He gave her a handful of oats, and stood beside her, scratching gently at her withers.

– Oh, Blackie, he whispered. What have I done? What have I been?

The mare snorted softly, turning her head to rub it against him.

Bern turned to face her, folding his arms on her back and leaning on her. He dropped his head onto his folded arms, and wept, silently.

Blackie's foal stirred restlessly within her, Aware of Bern's distress. He felt the Presence of the hidden colt. Not totally alone, he thought to himself. Hello, little fellow.

***

The line of beasts wound its way down the trail towards the plateau below which Dakesht lay sprawled in the autumn drizzle. Moondust led the way, with as much dignity as usual in spite of the unwieldy pack of tent-hides which he had consented to carry. Behind him came Sunshine, Flax and Agouti – each with a burden of two of the smallest Children – then the four new beasts, gelded, docile and laden with packs, and Moonwind bringing up the rear, unburdened, placing her feet delicately between the pebbles which littered the trail. Nemeth walked beside her, occasionally resting a hand on her withers, and keeping his feet out of her way. Moonwind shook the drizzle from her forelock, spraying Nemeth's face.

– Sorry, she said softly.

– That's okay. You can't make me much wetter than I am. This drizzle gets into everything, he added.

– But hopefully not into the packs, said Tarke, walking just in front. Round tents are heavy enough to manage even when they're not soaked.

– True.

– The packs are okay, said Sherath, jogging back down the line to walk beside her. Don't worry so, Tarke, he added, smiling at her and putting an arm round her shoulders.

– Where are we stopping? called Jevann. His question was echoed by some of the little ones.

– On the plateau, Nemeth replied. I think we've all had enough for today. Everyone's wet and tired, and hungry and cold. We'll have to build a small fire in one of the tents. We'd never get one alight outside, and we need to eat something hot. And preferably spicy, he added in a mental undertone, with a smile.

– Can do, said Louka. We can stock up with as many spices as you like in Dakesht, Nemeth. There's a yellow-sailed ship on her way in now. She'll be loaded with spices.

– I noticed, he said with a grin.

– There's a lot of your mother in you, Brother, remarked Sherath, turning to look at him.

– Half, actually, retorted Nemeth with a grin. But I know what you mean. The ground should be a little drier under those trees, if there's room there for us, he added.

It took longer than usual to set up camp. Fingers were cold and a little numb, the tent poles and ropes were slippery with rain. Sherath made a small pile of dry kindling from one of the packs in the centre of the larger tent, under the pole-hole.

"It won't let all the smoke out," he said, looking up at it. "But we've survived worse." What other wood was collected was damp at best, and steadfastly refused to catch fire. The others went out and left Sherath to his own devices. Eventually he lost his temper with it, standing in the tent and glaring at it. He felt the anger bubble through him.

"Well, burn, curse you!" he half shouted. The Command behind his word took even him by surprise.

The pine log went off like a gunshot, showering the tent and Sherath with wood fragments. He picked himself up off the floor, laughing, as Nemeth looked in through the hide flap.

"Problem?" asked Nemeth with a grin.

"It was only a little explosion," said Sherath, looking up and wiping laugh-tears from his eyes.

"Very effective," said Nemeth, looking at the blazing fire. "If a little dramatic. Is it safe to come in now, or do we have to stand out here all evening?"

"Come on in," said Sherath, sitting down by the fire and feeding it with lumps of wood.

"You will give us adequate warning if you have any other explosions planned, won't you?" asked Louka, grinning and shaking water out of her hair.

Sherath rested his folded arms across his knees and looked up at her, still laughing. "Didn't mean it," he said. She ruffled his hair affectionately.

"Never mind. It worked, that's the main thing. At least we can cook, now."

***

"Are you going to have the giggles all evening?" Tarke asked Sherath. The younger children had retreated to the other tent for the night, leaving just eight of them round the fireside.

Sherath looked over at her, his eyes alight with laughter.

"Sorry. The Control's not what it could be. I'm just tired."

"And the cider's getting to your brain," added Nemeth, grinning.

"Who, me? Never. It's just that it must have looked so bloody idiotic."

"It did," said Nemeth. "Not often these days I see you with your cool shaken. I'd almost forgotten what you used to be like. Have some more cider?"

"Do you think that's wise?" asked Sherath.

"Unwind a bit," said Tarke. "You've been wound up for far too long. You can get as pissed as a rat if you like – nobody here's going to mind. We might even join you, you never know."

Jekavi pulled a set of reed pipes – ... Pan pipes ... thought Farinka – from his pocket, and began to play softly; tune against counter-tune. Nemeth picked up the rhythm with his hands on a lump of deadwood drying out by the fire; Louka, Jevann and Sienne filled in with a wordless very close harmony. Tarke looked over at Sherath, catching his eye. – All yours, she suggested. Sherath leaned back against Farinka, using her lap as a pillow, and shut his eyes, then began to sing quietly in a velvetty baritone.

Remember where the barley grows,

And where the dusty tracks run through

Where deep the quiet water flows

Beneath the willows glimmering;

Above, a sky of steely blue,

Aside, a breeze that gently blows

The golden grain to silver hue

In waves of summer-shimmering

Nemeth's voice joined Sherath's, almost imperceptibly at first.

By night the quiet ways I tread

And walk through darkness softly wrought

With moonlight for its silver thread

That in the dusk lies glistening,

And on the gossamer is caught,

And through the grass is softly spread;

I tread in twilit-flowing thought

That in the dark is listening

Tarke joined in with an almost whispered descant, flute-like.

Through the twilight falling dusky,

Where the scent of sun lies musky,

Hear the dog-fox barking, husky,

Through the darkness following;

Padding softly, running lightly

Under trees whose leaves catch nightly

Silver moonshine glowing whitely,

Golden sunlight borrowing

Remember where the river bends

Between its winding banks of rye,

Where dreaming holds me, summer sends

Me far in questing reverie;

The summer in whose arms I lie

Will hold me there till summer ends

And still be with me as I fly

On silent wings of fantasy

The music faded slowly out to nothing. Outside the tent, an owl called with a sudden kee-wick!, breaking the spell.

"Young Tawny," whispered Sherath, opening his eyes.

"That was beautiful," said Farinka.

"Joint effort," said Nemeth quietly, looking across at her. "The words are Sherath's, the music is mine. The harmonies belong to whomever is singing them. Have some more cider, Domina." He filled her mug, the amber fluid steaming gently and smelling of ginger and cinnamon. "Mind you, with his name, you'd expect Sherath to create good words."

"Why's that?" asked Farinka.

"The name 'Sherath' comes from one of this world's older languages. Not used now, except in names. As does your own name. 'Sherath' means both poetry and strength; as 'Farinka' means both beauty and justice," said Nemeth.

Farinka smiled. "So what does 'Nemeth' mean?" she asked.

Tarke laughed. "'The Destiny which Repays'," she said. "A sort of inevitable vengeance. But we do try to keep him out of trouble," she added with a grin.

"Thank you, Tarke," said Nemeth. "I love you too."

– I've always known it, she answered.

"How about the rest of you?" asked Farinka.

"Not all the names really mean anything – though most of them have some sort of abstract concept attached," said Sherath, rolling over onto his side and refilling his mug sleepily. "Tarke means both knowledge and wisdom – which are not the same as each other. Sienne means brightness or light. Louka means 'she who loves'." He smiled over at her. "Jevann and Jekavi both stem from the same root word, Jevk, meaning craftsman." He turned to face Farinka. "Was Farinka always your name?" he asked.