creatures to carry his messages back and forth.”
“And you allowed the faerie woman to corrupt your son, Vineeta?” Anselma said.
“I am astounded that after all these years of protecting your children from her you would do such a thing. Amren’s wardrobe indicates that she has already begun to corrupt him. It is obvious she ensorcelled the tailor into doing her bidding, and not following our most careful instructions. Your younger son looks Hetarian now, not Terahn.”
Lara had heard them. It had been years since she had spoken to either of her sisters-in-law, and she was surprised to find they still irritated her. “Amren is most handsome in his new garments. The richness of them gives him more value with the Hetarians with whom he must deal than if he had dressed himself in plain clothing. With Hetar it is always the first impression that is the lasting one. After all these years have you no concept of what Hetar is like?”
They had had no answer for her. Recalling it now, Lara remembered that day as if it were yesterday. Narda and Anselma were long gone of course. Magnus’s youngest sister, the Lady Sirvat, Lara’s dearest friend, was dead, too. And since her passing Lara had had no friend among the Terahns. Her mother had, some fifty years ago, sent her a serving woman, Cadi, as Lara’s longtime serving woman, Mila, had grown old, too.
Cadi was the daughter of a casual encounter between a faerie man and the strong spirit that inhabited an Aspen tree in the domain of the Hetarian Forest Lords. She had been found cradled in the aboveground roots of the tree one May morning by her father, who had been summoned by his former lover. The Aspen told the faerie man that the child was his, and he must take it as she could not raise it. He agreed, bringing the infant to his queen and begging for her aid.
Though he was a faerie of the lower castes, Ilona agreed to raise his daughter, educate her and one day put her in service with Lara. The queen of the Forest Faeries knew her daughter would need one of their own kind by her side eventually. Mortals died off much too soon. And their bodies became infirm, as well. So Cadi had come to serve her mistress when she reached the age of fourteen.
She was a delicate and slender creature with faerie green eyes that she had inherited from her father. But it was her hair that was her most interesting feature. It appeared leaflike. In summer Cadi’s head was a bright green that seemed to quiver and quake when the winds blew. In autumn her hair turned bright red and gold. By winter her head seemed nothing more than short brownish twigs that, once the spring came, began to sprout green buds that grew again into odd, flat, round pointed shapes that so resembled the leaves of the Aspen tree.
Ilona had trained the girl well. Sweet-natured, but intelligent, she served her mistress with loving kindness. And Lara was relieved to have a serving woman who understood her mistress and her magical ways, someone who could be trusted to keep Lara’s secrets. Cadi had traveled with Lara to the New Outlands to bid the friend of her youth a final farewell. It had been a poignant and difficult moment for Lara.
Word had come via faerie post that Noss was in her final days. She would not live, her daughter Mildri wrote, to see this year’s Gathering. No longer having any official duties in Terah, Lara had called to Cadi, newly come to her then, to join her. Going to the stables, they had mounted Lara’s great horse, Dasras, and together they had traveled to the New Outlands.
Seeing Lara again, Noss, now silver-haired and wrinkled, had laughed knowingly. “This journey I will take without you, Lara,” she said. “But Liam is waiting for me.”
“Do not go just yet,” Lara begged her friend. “We are only newly come.”
“Who is the girl with the odd hair who accompanies you?” Noss wanted to know.
“Her name is Cadi, and she is my new serving woman,” Lara answered.
“Come here, child.” Noss beckoned to Cadi, and when the girl knelt next to the old woman Noss chuckled. Her hand reached up to ruffle the faerie girl’s head. “She is magic,” Noss said. “’Twas past time your mother sent you someone. How difficult it must be to have us all dying about you, dearest Lara. I remember your mother saying ’twas the curse of being a faerie who loved mortals.” Noss lay back upon her pillows, and closed her eyes briefly. Then she sighed. “I know my time has come, Lara, and though I am now ancient and crippled I am still loath to leave this world. What lies beyond for us? Do you know?”
Lara shook her head. “I know no more than you, dearest Noss. They say for those good mortals, and you are surely one of them, there is another, but different world of joy, where you will be united with those you love who have gone before you. And for those wicked mortals an entirely different place of punishment exists. ’Tis all I know.”
“Will you live forever?” Noss asked.
“I don’t know,” Lara said. “My grandmother Maeve died after many hundreds of years in this world, but where she went, or if her essence disappeared entirely forever I do not know, Noss.”
“Does Ethne?” Noss wondered, referring to Lara’s spirit guardian, who lived in a crystal Lara wore about her neck.
“I never asked her,” Lara replied. “And I am not certain I am ready to, or to know the answer she might give me.” The crystal at the end of the chain about her neck glowed briefly, and Lara was certain that she heard Ethne’s tinkling laughter.
Noss gasped, for she had heard the light laughter, too. “I heard her!” she said excitedly. “I heard Ethne laugh! I did!” Noss sat up.
That and the words I now speak to you, Noss of the Fiacre, are my parting gift to you. You have loved my mistress well for lo these many years. Your friendship has been a faithful and true friendship. When you are ready, go into the light unafraid, Noss of the Fiacre, for your mate is eagerly awaiting your arrival. Have no fear of the door now opening for you. Step bravely across it, knowing you have done well in this life, and you go forth carrying many faerie blessings with you.
And Noss felt just the lightest of kisses upon her cheek. Her faded brown eyes filled with tears. “Thank you, Ethne,” she managed to say. Then she turned her head to look at Lara. “My time has come,” she told her oldest and dearest friend with a sigh. “Will you remain by my side until I am gone, dearest Lara?” The old woman closed her eyes and lay back again upon her pillows.
“I will, dearest Noss,” Lara responded, taking Noss’s hand in hers. “I will not leave until you have.” And the faerie woman sat by the side of the only mortal friend remaining to her as the day waned. Finally, as the sun sank away in a blaze of reds, oranges and golds edged in pale green, a deepening blue sky above it filled with small gilt-edged purple clouds, Noss of the Fiacre, widow of Liam, lord of the clan family, stepped bravely through the open door to leave this life for the next. And as she did, Lara heard the joyous cries of welcome for Noss from those beyond that door. She smiled, and looking to Noss’s daughter, Mildri, said softly, “Your mother has left us.”
Mildri wept quietly for some minutes, and then, her mother’s daughter, she arose, saying to Lara, “You will remain for the Farewell Ceremony, of course.”
And Lara had. She and Noss had been friends since they were mere girls. They had shared slavery together. Had been reunited by the Shadow Princes. Had traveled across the plains of the old Outlands together encountering adventures Lara would never forget. She had protected Noss, who had been three years younger than Lara. And when Lara’s first husband’s cousin had fallen in love with Noss, and Noss with him, it had been Lara who had arranged their marriage. And it had been a happy marriage, producing several sons and a daughter. Noss’s destiny had been to be a wife, a mother, a Fiacre clanswoman. And
