Hanging from the walls of the castle, Arianlach had little to do but languish there, and dream. In his heart, the shard of ice grew, spreading into his veins and slowly freezing his blood. He heard the cry of white owls above him and wondered if he would soon be joining Mila in the Wastes. That he'd sent her there, he did not regret, for he trusted his bond with Laiharth. Each day, his aunt came out to look at him, and to ask if he would relent. Each day, his answer was the same, though his voice grew weaker.
"You will hang there until you consent to lie with your wife !" shouted Golga. Her voice echoed around the rocks and he winced.
"I will not," he whispered. She squinted up at him. He was dying; both knew that. She ordered him brought down, but only for time enough to recover. His limbs would not work, he could not stand, so he was borne inside on the shoulders of his guards. Golga gave him bread to eat, and a little cheese, but he did not have the strength. She grabbed the back of his head and forced the food into him.
"You will not die, you will not !" she spat, "not until we have a son from you ! So eat, my dear lord, eat !"
He ate, and when his eyes could focus and he could stand, she sent him back out.
Mila turned Arianlach's star over and over in her hands, twisting it through her fingers. To her alarm she had begun to struggle to remember who he was, as each day passed in peace and tranquillity in Arnoth's golden hall and the temptation to stay grew stronger. The Weaver was not to be seen, but Laiharth came to speak to her each day, turning her words around so that she no longer understood her own answers and she wept in frustration. Meier came and presented her with a feather.
"That is the star we gave to Arianlach," he said, "but it should not have that form any longer, for what use is it ? You will change it, with the feather. Carve me a knife-blade." And he was gone. Mila looked in mute appeal at Laiharth. He gazed back, his eyes unreadable and cold.
"I…can't," she whispered, "how can a feather carve a star – a jewel harder than rock ?"
"Do you think he'd have asked you if it could not be done ?" Laiharth said, "it is one way to prove your love for Arianlach. Remember his name." And he too left her, alone with her task.
For long ages she puzzled over how to achieve the impossible task, and the good earth around her cottage, watered by her tears, sprouted white flowers. She thought longingly of her own garden, far away in time and space, shrouded in snow, and suddenly she saw what had to be done. She took the feather and plunged it into the river, and when it froze hard she took the star and moulded it into a rough blade. She took the result to Meier. He smiled at her.
"Ice and water are great levellers of plains, and mountains, and all things green," he said. "And yet as soon as it is gone, the green returns. Keep the blade. It is yours."
She saw none of the Ice Lords for days after that, and then days turned into weeks, and she grew afraid. Surely Arianlach is dead, or I'm forgotten, she thought, and was surprised to find that the thought did not bring tears as it once would have.
She sat down under a tall birch, and leaned her head back against the trunk. The Ice Lords have vowed him loyalty. He will be safe.
"How do you like my garden ?" asked Arnoth, appearing beside her in a shimmer of green. She looked up at him and smiled.
"It is beautiful," she said, "but less so than my lover's face, which I would see again."
A brief flicker of a smile crossed the Weaver's fair face. "And if you should find him changed ?"
"Am I not changed, too ?" she said, "I think I will accept it. But I have one question to ask you, if I may."
He sat beside her, his face sunny. "Ask," he said.
"When I sought the castle east of the Sun and west of the Moon, I met two ancient crones upon the road, who gave me what I needed to break a troll's spell and gain entrance to the castle. There, I lay with Arianlach. Was that your doing ?"
"Not mine," he said. "Laiharth forged a bond with Arianlach that I deemed unwise, and sent you help though I would have left you to manage. I do not say that out of malice; it is not my way to intefere with destiny." He reached out his hand and placed it upon her belly. Something stirred within her, a flicker of life. He smiled.
"I did not weave this, and yet I see that I should have," he said. Her eyes widened in wonder as she realised what he'd done. "I don't control all," he continued, "nonetheless, that was a weak attempt to thwart destiny ! Do you regret what happened ?"
She shook her head, understanding that he meant Arianlach's love-making. "Never. I regret none of it."
He nodded, satisfied. "Then I think there is something you should see," he said. "Come with me."
Golga looked over the noblemen assembled in the court and motioned her daughter forward. "Choose one," she said, "you'll get nothing from your husband now; he lies dying in the tower. We pushed him too far, I fear. Strange, for I thought he would live through sheer defiance of us, but he has given up. No matter – choose !"
"That stupid girl left him, that's why he's given up," said her daughter. "still, he'll be joining her soon."
The thought did not offer the comfort it should have done. She sighed, and pointed to a strong, black-bearded man who leaned on his axe and stared at her with barely concealed lust. "He looks vigorous," she said, "so I will have him."
"Very well," said Golga, "and now let us see to the king."
