The Pillars Of The World

she’d thought Morag had come to gather her.
    “Yes, this is Merle.” Ari looked at the dark horse and huffed. “What is it about horses that color that they enjoy teasing puppies?”
    Morag’s hand froze against the dark horse’s cheek. “Horses that color?”
    “Dark, like yours. Neall’s gelding does the same thing. He thinks it’s funny. The gelding, that is.” Ari frowned. “Neall probably thinks it’s funny, too, but he’s smart enough not to say so.”
    Morag stared at Ari. “Neall. The man you’re going to marry. He rides a dark horse?”
    “Well, his gelding is the same color as your horse, so I guess it could be called a dark horse,” Ari said.
    She looked puzzled. “He bought it from Ahern, and Ahern told me the gelding was sired by a dark horse.
    One of his special horses.”
    One of Ahern’s special horses? Oh, yes, they were special. So who—and what—was this Neall that Ahern would sell him an animal sired by a dark horse?
    “There’s still plenty of light left,” Ari said. “Did you want to ride over to Ahern’s?”
    Morag stepped out of the kitchen. She didn’t want to ride anywhere at the moment, didn’t want to pass the borders of this place. She focused on the wounded mare, and her eyes widened in surprise.
    “She looks a little better.”
    “Yes,” Ari said thoughtfully. “I think, in her own way, she’s been undoing the harm done to her so that she can heal.” She pointed to a spot in the meadow that, to Morag’s eyes, looked no different than the rest. “I’ve watched her today. She’s stayed near that spot where I did the Solstice dance. And as she’s grazing, she keeps moving widdershins to undo what has been done.”
    “She can’t undo what the nighthunters’ bites did just by moving in a certain direction,” Morag protested.
    “If it were that simple, she would have done it before.” Even as she said it, she knew why the mare hadn’
    t done it before. “It’s not that she knows. She’s just instinctively following something that’s here.”
    Ari looked uncomfortable. Rubbing her cheek against Merle’s head and giving him one last pat, she set him down. He sat on her foot and stared at Morag. “Yes, I think so. My family has done a lot of dances in that meadow over the years. Even when it’s quiet, the magic is strong there.”
    “If you’re willing, I’d like to let the horses stay here tonight.”
    “Of course.” Ari paused. “Is there something you would like to do? I have some stew cooking. It should be ready soon.”
    “I’d like to answer your question about your mother and grandmother.” Morag looked at the dark horse and added a bit plaintively, “Do we have to ride?”
    Ari chuckled. “No. It’s a pleasant walk. This way.”
    When they reached the edge of the meadow, Morag looked back. The dark horse trotted up to her. The sun stallion was watching her, as if uncertain if he should round up his mares and follow.
    Morag sighed. “We’re just going for a walk,” she said, raising her voice enough for the sun stallion to hear. “You can all stay in the meadow. You too,” she added quietly.
    The dark horse shook his head. He knew why she was taking this walk.
    Merle yapped once at the dark horse, then trotted ahead of Ari to see what interesting messages his nose might pick up.
    Ari led the little procession to a pond. A large oak tree grew near it.
    “My mother used to sit under that oak tree and watch the pond,” Ari said. “Her body is there.”
    Morag looked at the tree and all the surrounding land. She shook her head. “She isn’t here. I didn’t show her the road to the Shadowed Veil, but one of the others who are Death’s Servants must have done so.”
    There was something about Ari’s sigh of relief that Morag found disturbing. “How did your mother die?”
    Ari stared at the pond. “Lung sickness. We have a small ice cellar to keep food cold and fresh. I had a chill that day. She told me to stay home and keep warm, and she went out to cut the ice by herself. She fell into the pond, and—” Ari stopped. Closed her eyes. “She didn’t fall in. Water was her branch of the Mother. When she commanded, water obeyed. She could walk across that pond when there was only a skin of ice and come to no harm.”
    Morag felt something wash through her. Something dangerous and feral. “Do you know who pushed her in? That is what happened, isn’t it? Someone wanted the witches gone from this place and