Miri wondered very much about some parts of this story. It was queer enough that Gest had been able to answer riddles. But then he had apparently killed a Dorig for its collar, and Adara had not only still married him, but wore the collar every day. It was beautifully and intricately worked, in a filigree of twisted signs and symbols around pattern of Power, Riches and Truth, all flowing like a song into the exquisitely modelled birds’ heads of the bossed ends. Miri knew it could not have come from any Dorig. It was a collar from the Old Days, such as a King might have worn. Miri thought Gest must have traded his own missing collar for it.
But then there was the matter of the stone from the Haunted Mound. Miri, remembering Gest’s father had been a Chanter, had some hopes that it was an illusion which would not last. But, after the wedding, Og graciously forgave Gest and Adara, and there was more coming and going between Garholt and Otmound. Miri went and saw the stone on top of Otmound for herself. It was really there. The marks where it had been dragged from the Haunted Mound had not yet grown over. Miri was shaken, because she knew it could not have been done without the aid of some mighty Power.
“Well, I wish Og joy of it, that’s all,” she said. “I wouldn’t like a great thing like that on top of my mound. Whatever words I said, I’d be afraid of it coming through and squashing me.”
Og might have forgiven Gest, but Gest was clearly still angry with Og. He refused outright to help Og against the Dorig. Og and Orban were forced to help themselves. In the autumn, having carefully armed and drilled the Otmounders, they attacked a huge body of Dorig who were moving east across the Moor. The Dorig were taken by surprise. Since words had stopped them shifting shape, they fled frantically south and west. Islaw saw them coming and hurriedly sealed its gates. But the Dorig did not attack. They went into the river near Islaw and that was the last of them for some time. The Moor became much more peaceful.
Luck seemed to return to Otmound after that. The people there grew richer. Orban’s wife Kasta at last had a baby which did not die. She called him Ondo. He was a fine, healthy child, but Kasta nevertheless fussed over him as if he was the most delicate baby alive.
“She makes me ill!” Miri said, after a particularly tiresome visit.
“She had four babies before, and they all died,” Adara reminded her.
“So she did!” said Miri. “Which makes this one so unusually gifted, particularly intelligent—” she mimicked Kasta’s harsh voice “—so exactly cut out to be a Chief! How can she tell? Just let her wait till your son’s born, that’s all. I’ll have the nursing of him, and I’ll show her!”
Though she was the Beekeeper’s wife and a Wise Woman, Miri was determined to nurse Adara’s son. There was quite a struggle for that honour, since everyone expected that son to be special, but Miri won the struggle because she was a Wise Woman.
But when Adara’s baby was born, it was a girl. Miri was speechless. She could think of nothing to say for a whole hour. Then she said, “Don’t you dare let her marry that Ondo!”
“No fear!” said Gest. He was enchanted with his daughter. He called her Ayna and walked about holding her proudly. She was fair and rosy and very like him.
Miri swallowed her disappointment, looked after Ayna carefully, and waited for the next baby.
He came the following year. Adara called him Gair. “Ah!” said Miri proudly. “Just look at him, Gest.”
Gest looked and was rather startled. Gair was dark and pale, like Adara, and stared solemnly up at Gest with big grey eyes. “Why doesn’t he smile?” said Gest.
“They don’t at first,” said Adara. “Even Ayna didn’t.”
“I expect you’re right,” said Gest. All the same, he remained a little awed by the strange, solemn baby, even when Gair was old enough to smile.
Two years later, Adara had another son. Gest, looking resigned, took Ayna in to have a look at him. Miri, chuckling with pride, unwrapped a baby with huge blue eyes and hair as dark as Gair’s. “Ceri,” she said. “Isn’t he a fine one?”
“Isn’t he a bit pretty for a boy?” Gest said doubtfully. He would have preferred another girl. Miri scolded him. She was delighted. Whatever Ondo’s nurse, Fandi, said, Miri knew they had done three times as well as Kasta.
The children grew up with all the other children, tumbling and quarrelling in the Sun that streamed into Garholt. It was a good time to grow up in. In spite of being the hero of three tasks, Gest proved the careful Chief everyone had hoped for. Garholt prospered and there was plenty to eat. Adara taught the children. Miri spoiled all three, particularly Ceri. In the evenings, Miri told them the stories from the tapestries round the walls. Their favourite was the newest: How Gest performed Three Tasks to Win Adara. Miri always told it them as it was generally told. She never hinted at her doubts, but she felt a little guilty at the way they drank it up and asked for it again and again.
One day, when Gair was five and Ayna six, Gair said wistfully, “When shall I be allowed to go hunting?”
“Next full Moon, of course,” said Ayna.
Gair looked at her incredulously. She was standing very straight and her face was grave and serious. He could see she meant it. Without bothering to ask how she knew, he trotted off to Gest and told him he was coming on the next hunt.
Gest looked up from lashing a spearhead and laughed. “Whatever put that into your head?”
Gair did not like being laughed at. His mouth trembled. “Ayna says I’m going. She told me.”
Ayna had followed Gair out of interest. Gest asked her angrily what she meant by putting such nonsense into Gair’s head. “It’s not nonsense. It’s true,” Ayna said. She was quite certain.
Gest opened his mouth to tell her what happened to children who made up stories. Before he could speak, Miri dashed forward. “Ask her something else!” she said excitedly. “Go on!”
Gest was annoyed. Miri was far too fond of bobbing up and preventing him scolding his children. “Ask her yourself,” he said crossly.
“All right,” said Miri. “Ayna, who’s going to be the next person to come into Garholt?”
Ayna again stood straight and grave. “Uncle Orban. He’s hurt himself.”
“Of all the—! “Gest began.
Before he could say more, Orban tottered through the doorway above them with a broken arm. “Met a Giant,” he said miserably. “Your place was nearest.” Seeing the way Gest was staring, he said irritably, “I’m not a ghost!”
Gest pulled himself together and welcomed Orban properly. He helped Orban to Adara to have the arm set. Miri bustled round in the greatest excitement. It was clear to her that Ayna had the Gift of Sight, which had not been known in Garholt for two generations. Better still, since Orban was here,
