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knees.
    The space inside reflected the beehive design – it was circular in shape, with a domed roof. The whole construction was of dry-stone, meticulously laid. The floor was bare earth. Here and there in the walls were small recesses that might be used for candles or offerings at ritual time. It was not dark, for the tiny beings had placed themselves on the stones all around, filling the little chamber with glowing light. Apart from them and me, the place was empty. Empty, but full of magic.
    I settled myself on the ground, waiting for what might come.
    ‘Ye brocht a witawoo,’ someone said in tones of reproach. ‘Intae my place, among my wee folk, ye brocht a rendin’, tearin’ witawoo. Didna it occur tae ye that such creatures feed on the small ones o’ the meadow, wee fluttery things such as these here? Didna ye spare a thocht for that, afore ye came trampin’ in?’
    Nobody here; only me and the tiny beings. The place was barely two strides across.
    I cleared my throat. ‘A wita . . . You mean my companion, Whisper? He’s not an owl; he’s one of the Northies.’
    A tinkling sound arose from the tiny beings. I interpreted it as a gasp of shock. ‘It’s true,’ I went on. ‘Whisper comes from the household of the Lord of the North. He’s one of your own kind. True, he does resemble an owl. But he will not eat any of you, I give my word. He will not enter this area, or even fly over it, since it is a place of women’s ritual.’
    ‘I dinna see this Whisper noo. Whaur did he gang? Just waitin’ tae swoop, aye?’ The voice rang through the little chamber, wry, suspicious and definitely female. Could this be the White Lady herself?
    ‘Whisper heard some disturbing sounds during the night. He flew off to investigate. He waited until I was safely within the protection of the cairns before leaving.’
    ‘Sounds? What sounds?’
    ‘Screaming, shouting. Sounds of distress. Forgive me, I do not know who you are, or where you are, or even what you are.’ She sounded like one of the Good Folk. But a being who chose to remain invisible? That set doubt in me. When the Master of Shadows had tested me, I had seen the Guardians in a vision. The White Lady had been . . . In my mind, she had been a tall, slender human-like figure clad in flowing white robes, very similar to the serene Lady Siona, wife of the Lord of the North. But now that I recalled that vision, I realised I had never actually seen her. It was my own imagination that had conjured up her image. In the vision I had seen only myself, clad in a blue gown with flowers in my hair and bright spring light all around me. I had heard the Lady’s voice, bidding me see with the clarity of air. She had spoken like a noblewoman, her tone confident, mellow and sweet. If anything was certain, it was that the voice I heard now was not the same.
    ‘I don’t wish to be discourteous,’ I ventured. ‘I am seeking the White Lady, Guardian of the East. I heard – we heard – that perhaps she might be found here. I need to speak with her on a matter of urgency.’
    ‘Oh, aye? And what matter would that be?’
    Even though the Good Folk knew by instinct that I was a Caller, that did not mean they always welcomed me. Past experience with Silver and her clan had proven that – they had taken a long time to believe my mission was worthwhile, and their help, when they’d finally offered it, had been a two-edged sword. It must be uncomfortable to be stirred up by a Caller; worse to know that if I chose, I could compel them to act in ways they might not wish to.
    I hesitated before I spoke. ‘Has any word come to your folk from the other Watches, about a . . . a venture that is planned?’
    ‘What venture might that be?’
    That might mean they had heard nothing of the rebellion. It might equally well mean they knew all about it but were treating me with caution until they knew I was trustworthy. I could hardly blame them for that, since I was doing exactly the same.