The Pillars Of The World

 

     
     

     
     
     
    THE TREES WHISPER OF DANGER
    T he youngest in a long line of witches, Ari senses things are changing—for the worse. For generations, her kin have tended the Old Places, keeping the land safe and fertile. But with the Summer Moon, the mood of her neighbors has soured. And Ari is no longer safe.
    T he Fae have long ignored what occurs in the mortal world, passing through on their shadowy roads only long enough to amuse themselves. But the roads are slowly disappearing, leaving the Fae Clans isolated and alone.
    W here harmony between the spiritual and the natural has always reigned, a dissonant chord now rings in the ears of both Fae and mortal. And when murmurs of a witch-hunt hum through the town, some begin to wonder if the different omens are notes in the same tune.
    And all they have to guide them is a passing reference to something called the Pillars of the World....
    THE PILLARS OF THE WORLD
    Anne Bishop
    A ROC BOOK
    roc
    Published by New American Library, a division of Penguin Putnam Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA.
    Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R ORL, England
    Penguin Books Australia Ltd, Ringwood, Victoria, Australia
    Penguin Books Canada Ltd, 10 Alcorn Avenue, Toronto, Ontario. Canada M4V 3B2
    Penguin Books (N.Z.) Ltd, 182-190 Wairau Road, Auckland 10, New Zealand Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices Harmondsworth, Middlesex, England First published by Roc, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Putnam Inc.
    First Printing, October 2001
    10 987654321
    Copyright © Anne Bishop, 2001 All rights reserved
    Cover art by Paul Youll Cover design by Ray Lundgren
    REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA
    Printed in the United States of America
    Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
    PUBLISHER’S NOTE
    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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    If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
    and Lynn Flewelling
     
    and
    in memory of
    Alan Mietlowski
    ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
    My thanks to Blair Boone for being an encouraging first reader; to Mari Anderson for giving voice to “
    Love’s Jewels”; to Deb Coates, Linda Antonnsen, Mindy Klasky, Doranna Durgin, Vonda Mclntire, Deborah Wheeler, Julie Czerneda, and Jennifer Roberson for information and observations about things equine and canine; to Nadine Fallacaro for reviewing things medical; to Kandra for her continued time and energy on the Web site; to Michelle Zymowski, Rick Kohler, Cortney Heitzman, and Hal Leader for their help with the map; and to Pat and Bill Feidner for being there.

 

     
     

Chapter One

 

     
     

     
    Another road was closing. It would take a little time, but not that long. For a few more days, that road through the Veil that separated Tir Alainn from the human world would shine, as it had for as long as the Fae could remember. Then the Veil would thicken and the road would disappear, and any of the Fae Lords or Ladies who tried to travel that road out of Tir Alainn wouldn’t come home again.
    And once the road closed, the part of Tir Alainn that was connected to that road would disappear as well—another piece of what had been the Fae’s most glorious act of magic mysteriously devoured.
    We do not ask what becomes of the Fae who lived in those lost pieces , Dianna thought as she stared at the garden beyond the open window. We do not ask if they are somehow surviving in their Clan houses, cut off from the rest of us, or if they’ve become lost souls who will never reach the Summerland when