Free Crystal Rose by Maya Kaathryn Bohnhoff Page A

great hands were flexing.
    “If you object to my request, Saefren—”
    “He does not object!” roared Iobert. He came to his feet,
quivering with suppressed rage. “That a kinsman of mine should utter such mealy
words—should dare to speak in sly opposition . . . !”
    Taminy threw back her head and laughed. It was a girl’s
laugh—light, carefree, delighted. “Please, Chieftain Claeg, don’t flog your
poor nephew for his doubts. He’s entitled to them. After all, he wasn’t in
Creiddylad with you this summer. He didn’t see what you saw. He only heard
about it after the fact.”
    “He should trust what he hears from his elder kinsman!”
    I was wrong ,
Saefren realized, my glower is nowhere
near as intimidating as Uncle’s .
    Taminy shook her head. “Trust is hard given in matters of
faith. Saefren is loyal to you and to his House. For now, that’s enough.”
    “Aye, well . . .” Iobert Claeg settled another disgruntled
glance on his nephew, then turned his attention to Catahn. “We’d best see to
the arms I brought up and ride herd on that young Osraed you put in charge of
the pilgrims. I’ve family among ’em. Wanted to come up and study under the
Lady.” He dipped his head to Taminy. “I dare say there’re some of us could use
instruction in humility.”
    Saefren hid a grin as he watched his uncle bow himself over
Taminy’s hand before taking his leave. Catahn made the same obeisance, then
trailed the Claeg Chieftain from the room, turning at the door to fix the still
stationary Saefren with a wolfish stare.
    That was a disappointment. He had hoped for a moment alone
with her, though he was uncertain why. Perhaps he thought she might perform
some pretty petty miracle to ensnare him. But under the Hillwild’s regard, his
body moved involuntarily toward the door.
    The Ren grunted and passed from view.
    “Saefren Claeg.”
    He turned back to look at her. She was an unlikely
visitation of the Divine in her breeches and leathers. She took several steps
toward him, stirring dust motes into the pattern of light from the northern
windows. They shimmered around her head, seeming to radiate from the pale gold
of her hair.
    She stopped just before him, hands clasped demurely. “The
‘Golden Wicke’ will perform no Weaves to snare your soul, nor miracles to
capture your approval. I meant what I said about your doubts; you may keep them
as long as you need them.”
    He marveled at that, covering himself with a chuckle. “Am I
such an open book to you, Mistress?”
    She smiled. “Deliver my girls safely, please, Saefren
Claeg,” she said, and moved past him out the door.

Chapter 4
    Don’t look at beginnings.
Raise your eyes to the ends. This time is like the Spring sowing; it seems the
earth is barren and the weeds mighty and the stones hard, but the end-time
holds harvests and gatherings-in. Then, you’ll see the issue; then you’ll reap
the bounty.
    — Utterances of Taminy-Osmaer,
Book of the Covenant, #14
    He stood on the banks of the Halig-tyne and looked east
toward Nairne. Behind him, the Sun set into the Western Sea and color drained
from the sky in runnels of red and purple.
    He waited for the Rose. It would appear in the sky over
Halig-liath and his invisible wings would take him almost there to watch it
shed its radiance over sleeping Nairne. But the night sky grew dark and stars
glinted, and above distant Halig-liath was nothing but a swathe of dewy black
velvet.
    Anxiety tugged at him. Where was she? Had something happened
to her? He fidgeted. He heard himself moan.
    You look for me in the
wrong place, Leal.
    He shivered, eyes darting. Had he heard those words or
imagined them?
    In their feverish dance, his eyes caught a gleam of light to
the south, high over the Gyldan-baenn. He fixed on it, and before he had taken
two breaths, the light blossomed into a thing that was both crystal and rose
and yet neither. Golden, the spreading, translucent petals dripped glory onto
the tops