The Pillars Of The World

master, the Evil One, so that he will come and indulge in carnal acts with them. They use their love charms on chaste young women of good name and family, causing them to become so overcome with lust that they fornicate with men, without the honorable bond of marriage. They are the vessels of dark magic.” He paused. “And they control the Small Folk, who are soulless creatures full of mischief magic. Creatures that must be cleansed from the land so that honest men can take the land’s bounty without coming to harm. Do you want to hear more?”
    “No,” Dianna said, feeling a winter wind brush past her face even though spring would soon give way to summer. But what she wanted and what duty required were two different things. “Do you think these . . .
    wiccanfae . . . are the reason the roads are closing? Could they be using their magic to keep us out of the human world?”
    “It is fact that the shining roads close in the human world before we lose a piece of Tir Alainn.”
    Dianna saw something shift in his eyes. “What happened at those taverns?”
    “Just as the Muse can still a tongue or open an inner door inside a person that allows the words to flow, so I can give the gift of music—or take it away.”
    Dianna hesitated. Even for the Lady of the Moon— a title that made her the most influential female among the Fae—it was the better part of wisdom not to antagonize the Bard. Provoked, he wouldn’t hesitate to shape a song that would diminish a person into a fool. “If the witches are our enemies, why stop the minstrels’ songs?”
    “I cannot stop what already exists, but I can stop any more from being created.”
    She placed a hand on his arm, felt the tight muscles. “Why stop them?” she asked, wondering how much he hadn’t told her.
    “One doesn’t need to drink from a cup to know that it contains a poison,” Aiden said harshly. “There’s something wrong with those songs. Music that hasn’t flowed through the heart on its journey to the hands offers little and can take much.” He smiled bitterly. “And those who play those songs have sold their hearts for a bag of gold coins.”
    “Minstrels have to eat,” Dianna said cautiously.
    “There is warm gold and cold gold, and I know which has been taken by the end of the first turn. These minstrels play songs that create an ugliness in the hearts of those who hear them. And they’ve put new words to old tunes—tunes we created—that once spoke gently of magic and the gifts that magic gives.
    That is too deep an insult, Dianna, because that is an offense against us . The decision to take back the gift of music is mine, and only mine, to make.”

    “Has Lyrra decided to take back the Muse’s gift as well?”
    His eyes darkened until they were almost black.
    Oh, yes , Dianna thought. The Bard heard far more than he has said .
    “I have asked her to take back her gift from any minstrel who sings those songs,” he said quietly. “But that is her choice.”
    Which meant that, unless she had a strong reason to oppose him, the Muse would honor his request. She and the Bard weren’t exclusive lovers, but they were lovers nonetheless and often gave—or withheld—
    their gifts in tandem.
    “And there is another reason to silence the music that would smear all magic with the offal of the witches’
    deeds.” Aiden crossed his arms, leaned against the wall next to the window. “We travel through the Veil and use our gifts to hinder or help the humans.”
    “We do that because it amuses us, not because we need to,” Dianna said impatiently.
    “We do that because it amuses us,” Aiden agreed, “and because it’s . . . invigorating.”
    Dianna let out a delicate snort. She knew quite well what “invigoration” Fae men found in the human world. Fae women seldom found a similar kind of “invigoration.”
    Aiden’s blue eyes twinkled, a sure sign that he knew exactly what she was thinking. Then the twinkle faded, leaving him serious again. “That isn’t exactly what I meant. Living in Tir Alainn is like floating in the sun-warmed water of a quiet pond. Dealing with humans and their world is like riding the rapids of a fast river. One brings peace, the other stirs the blood.”
    “There’s nothing wrong with peace,” Dianna insisted. Especially when it might be taken away at any moment .
    “Tell me something, Dianna,” Aiden said. “When you ride with your shadow hounds for the Wild Hunt, do you gallop over the