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years! I’m quite surprised that I do, actually.”
    “And here’s a trinket from Brin Toraedic. He said to tell you that since it was older than both of you put together, it was a marvel indeed.”
    Aderyn laughed and held up the golden cup, made of beaten metal and decorated with a ridged pattern utterly unlike any made by human or elf. Jill found herself studying the old man; he seemed no older, no weaker than he ever had, but still she worried. He picked up her thought.
    “My time won’t be for a little while yet. I have Gavantar to train, and he’s just begun his studies.”
    “Ah. I just … well, wondered.”
    “Things have been hard for you with Nevyn gone.” It was not a question.
    “They have. It’s not just the missing of him, though that’s bad enough. I feel so wretchedly inadequate, little-more than an apprentice myself, truly, and not fit to be the Master of the Aethyr.”
    “Oh, here, we all go through that! You’ll grow into the job. It’s like becoming captain of a warband, I suppose. Allthat responsibility at first—why, it must overwhelm a man, thinking of all those lives that depend on his decisions.”
    “True-spoken. But I’ve got Nevyn’s work to finish. I keep feeling that I’ve absolutely got to do it right for his sake.”
    “Wait a moment now! It’s not his work, any more than it’s your work. Don’t let that kind of vanity enter in or you’ll find yourself worrying indeed. It’s all
our
work, and the work and will of the Great Ones. Think of it as an enormous tapestry. We each weave a little piece, what small amount we’re capable of, then hand the grand design on to the next worker. No one soul could possibly finish the entire thing by himself.”
    “You’re right enough, aren’t you?” Jill smiled, feeling her dark mood lift. “I’ll drink to that! Here comes your Gavantar now.”
    Carrying a leather bottle that was dripping wet and smelling of Bardek cinnamon and cloves, Gavantar ducked through the flap and joined them. Once the drink was poured round, he sat down by the door on guard, and with a shy duck of his head refused to move closer even when Aderyn invited him. He was new to the dweomer, Jill supposed, and still in awe of what he considered strange and mighty powers. Soon enough, when he came to see how natural in their way Aderyn’s magicks were, he would begin to feel at ease.
    “Is Rhodry still with Calonderiel?” she asked.
    “He is, O Wise One. The whole camp wants to meet him.”
    “Good. Then he’ll stay out of trouble for a few hours, anyway.” She turned back to Aderyn. “Rhodry is one of the things that are vexing me.”
    “Ah. He’s still in love with you?”
    “That, too, I suppose, but that’s not the important thing. I wonder what’s going to happen to him now, mostly. No, I worry about him, worry badly. We’ve snatched him away from everything he knows and loves, which is harsh enough, and then beyond that, there’s his Wyrd. For so long his whole life was ruled by that prophecy, and now he’s fulfilled it, and well, what’s going to become of him?”
    “Prophecy?”
    “The one Nevyn received all those years ago. Don’t you remember it? Rhodry’s Wyrd is Eldidd’s Wyrd, it ran.”
    “Oh, that! Of course—he became gwerbret in the nick of time, didn’t he?”
    “You seem to take it all blasted lightly, but so he did. Look, there would have been a long and ghastly war in Eldidd if Rhodry hadn’t been there to inherit the rhan.”
    Aderyn merely nodded. Jill supposed that he was so old, and had seen so many wars, that one more conflict would have meant nothing to him.
    “And then there’s the rose ring, too,” she went on. “I’ve been vexing myself about that bit of jewelry for months now. That’s why I want to talk to Devaberiel, you see, to ask him about it and that rather odd being who gave it to him. I’ll wager he wasn’t an ordinary elf.”
    “You’re right about that.” Aderyn’s voice had gone