Belladonna

"Best to stop now, darling, while I still have a few brains left in my head"? How could he understand so much and still understand so little?
    But he understood the land, understood what he was seeing — and not seeing. It had sobered both of them after they'd gathered up their things and continued the ride.
    No word was spoken, but they both reined in as soon as they came within sight of Lighthaven's buildings.
    "Well," Michael said. "It could have been worse. There's fresh water and fish in the streams. There's woodland, so there's game for food and wood for the fires. And there are meadows and pastureland and the acreage that's been farmed."
    "The land is sound and can sustain itself," Glorianna agreed. "Can the people?" She noted his reluctance to look at her and had her answer. Unfortunately, it matched her own opinion of the people who tended this Place of Light. "They hobbled themselves, Michael. The Places of Light tend to be separated from the world around them because, long ago, the Guardians who took up the task of nurturing the Light decided that a simple life helped the heart and mind remain at peace. But the people who live in those places usually are not without resources ... or knowledge. They may live simple lives, but there is nothing simple about their skills. If isolated, they could survive."
    "Until they died out." Now he looked at her. "I don't know how it is in the other Places of Light, but I'm not blind to the look and feel of this place, Glorianna. Lighthaven belongs to the Ladiesof Light. Men may come up from Atwater and the surrounding farms to do manual labor — of all sorts —" he added in a mutter, remembering the hungry, speculative looks he'd gotten from some of the younger Sisters while was saddling the horses. "But they don't live here. And I'm thinking we're not going to find anyone outside this community on this land. Not a cottage, not a farm. No one."
    "My concern is more immediate," she said. "How many of these women have ever nocked an arrow to a bow and gone out to hunt their dinner? How many have chopped down a tree or even chopped wood? How many have thrown a line in the water to catch fish? How many have tilled the land before they planted a kitchen garden? What about feed for the animals? Oats?
    Hay?"
    He swore softly and scrubbed his fingers through his hair. "Well, can't you — no, I guess it would be Lee, wouldn't it —
    can't he put in one of those bridges?"
    "To go where?" She waited to see if he understood the question, but there was only confusion.
    Reminding herself that, until a few days ago, his view of the world had been fairly linear, and a straight road between two places actually would have taken him between one place and the other, she dismounted and gave the horse a long rein so it could graze while she gave the man her full attention.
    He hesitated, as if trying to figure out the reason for her action, then did the same. "Borders and boundaries." She fisted her hands and held them out, pressed together. "When two similar landscapes belong to the same Landscaper, they can be fitted together as a border — a place where people can cross over without using a bridge."
    "Like the Den butting up against the part of Elandar where the waterhorses dwell?" Michael asked.
    "Yes, like that. The waterhorses are demons and live in a dark landscape. The Den is a dark landscape inhabited by humans and demons. Both are mine, and they resonate with each other."
    He brushed a finger over her fists, pausing at the line made where they were pressed together. "It's a wonder, isn't it, that two places physically so far apart can be reached just by stepping over a line."
    She separated her fists, leaving a fist-sized gap between them. "Boundaries are formed between the pieces of the world that belong to different Landscapers and also between places that belong to the same Landscaper but don't resonate with each other in a way that forms a border. Those require bridges in order for people to cross over from one to the other. Even then, a stationary bridge can be created only between two landscapes that want to be connected. The hearts in both of those places have to want something that forms a link. Do you understand, Michael?"
    "I think so." He frowned at her fists, then tapped one. "Lighthaven." Tapped the other. "The rest of the White Isle. Two ...
    landscapes ... now. Two Landscapers."
    "Yes," she said softly.
    "So ..." He tapped a finger on one fist, then formed an