The Pillars Of The World

while. She felt sure of that.
    “The day my grandmother died,” Ari said, struggling to find a way to say just enough, “she went for a walk, up to her favorite hill. Before she left, she said, ‘The Pillars of the World have been forgotten. It is time they also forgot.’ ”
    “Did she say anything more?” Aiden demanded.
    Ari shook her head, not daring to look at him in case he could sense the lie. “We— We went looking for her when the afternoon waned and she still hadn’t come back. We found her on the hill. She had fallen asleep . . . and died.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “So am I. I miss her.” She stood up. “You’ll have to excuse me, Aiden. I want to get the garden watered before the sun is too high.”
    “Yes, of course.” He whistled to his horse. “Thank you for your time.”
    When he was mounted, she said, “Blessings of the day to you, Aiden.”
    She wondered why he looked so relieved to hear her say that.
    “And to you, Mistress Ari.”
    “Why don’t you save yourself some time on the journey back and simply go across the meadow,” Ari said. “That’s the way Lucian went when he left, so I assume it’s the shortest way back to Tir Alainn.”
    His only response was to turn his horse and ride away.
    Ari watched him until he disappeared into the woods. Then she returned to the chore of watering the garden. There was a great deal to do in the coming weeks—and more to do once the harvest began.
    She hoped she hadn’t told Aiden too much. But if anyone could put together the whole from bits and pieces, it was the Bard. She strongly suspected that what he didn’t know, he would be able to guess.
    She didn’t have a reason for not telling him all of it, only an instinctive hesitation.
    The Pillars of the World have been forgotten. It is time they also forgot. It is time they tasted the richness of feelings instead of living on the scraps of affection thrown to them by people who no longer even remember why they throw the scraps.
    That sounds like a sad way to live. Who are the Pillars of the World, Gran?
    We are.
    Yap yap yap.
    Ari turned in time to see Merle bound away from the creek bank and head straight toward Neall, who was crouching to greet the pup.
     
    “Be careful,” Ari called. “His paws are—”
    Merle bounded one step too far. His paws hit the target.
    “—muddy,” Ari finished.
    Wincing a little, Neall stood up. “He’s already gotten bigger.” He looked down at Merle. “You’re going to have to learn not to jump like that. You’re getting too big.”
    Merle’s entire rump wagged in greeting as he looked up at Neall.
    “Are you all right?” Ari asked. “Should I try to wash the mud off?”
    “Let it harden first,” Neall said. He blushed. “The mud. Let the mud harden.” He closed his eyes and muttered, “Mother’s mercy.”
    Ari burst out laughing.
    Neall gave her an exasperated look. “You think this is funny?”
    “I’m sorry, Neall, but you’ve got two paw prints—”
    “I know where they are,” he said dryly.
    “Yes, of course you do.” She focused on a tree to avoid looking at the paw prints. He was embarrassed.
    She found that sweet. She could see herself teasing him about it months from now.
    “Ari . . .”
    When she looked at him, concern drove away the amusement. He looked like a man who expected to be hurt.
    “Do you have time to talk?” Neall asked quietly.
    “Yes.” She held out her hand, surprised by the way his trembled when he took it. Strange to feel like she was the one who was suddenly older, stronger, wiser. But she had the answers; he only had the questions.
    “I’m no longer staying at Baron Felston’s house,” Neall said abruptly. “I was asked to leave.” He made a sound that was both bitter and amused. “Thrown out, if you want the truth.”
    “Why?”
    He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. If it hadn’t been this, it would have been something else. It’s a relief to be away from them.”
    “This happened this morning?”
    “Last night. I’m staying with Ahern for the time being.”
    “It didn’t occur to you to stay here?” She tried to pull her hand from his. His fingers tightened, refusing to let go.
    “Yes, it occurred to me. Mother’s mercy, of course it occurred to me. But it wouldn’t have been fair.”
    He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “Ari, I’ve tried to wait, I’ve tried to be patient. But now I need to know. I’ll be leaving soon. Will I be going