Thanks to Saea, Jennistar1, JessPuggy, Neither here nor there, Athena, Frogster, EndlessTwilight, Lucia Rayne

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REPRISE: "You can just be a Bard now," he added. Maerad pulled him into a tight, desperate hug, which he returned. For a second, Hem thought he could see them glowing, but then he blinked and it went away, so he thought he must have been imagining it.

TEN

Downstairs is where the light is lost,

The lamp is broken beneath the dust,

Imagination twists all sense,

A ghost is coming,

A 'creak' on the stairs…

Peril awaits all who dare

To venture forth and claim what's theirs,

For years have gone yet items remain,

For fear they too shall ne'er return.

Micha of Lirigon

CHAPTER TEN

The next few days were full of action - for the others at least. Saliman left for Norloch, to join the army against Enkir. Malgorn, as First Bard, called a meeting, and they decided to send an army to Dagra. Maerad and Cadvan would be among them, and by the end of the week they had gathered over 10,000 fighters. Maerad felt a great sense of relief that, soon, it would all be over; at the same time, she was scared - for everyone. She was relieved that Hem was deemed too young to come, though he complained bitterly.

Cadvan called Darsor to him, and Imi had been with him and so she came too. It took them about a day to arrive, and as a result they were left to graze freely in a large open space just outside the city. On the third day after their arrival, and the same day that Darsor and Imi arrived, Maerad and Cadvan went to visit them. They walked together to the field, and sat on the ground nearby. The horses slowly grazed their way over to them, and Imi nuzzled Maerad's hair.

I thought you were dead, she said, blowing into Maerad's face. Maerad reached up to stroke her muzzle.

I'm not, she replied, unnecessarily. The horses soon wandered away again, and Cadvan and Maerad watched them in silence for a time. After a while, Cadvan took Maerad's hand and held it so that their fingers were intertwined. His thumb rubbed hers gently, and they began to talk about trivial things, food and drink and things with no particular meaning but to hide them away from what awaited them, creating a retreat into normality before they entered a world of fear and death and hate. In a lull in the conversation, they both looked back at the horses. Maerad glanced at Cadvan, and saw that he had chosen exactly that second to glance at her, and for a moment she was caught up in his deep eyes.

"The spaces between my fingers were meant to be filled with yours," he quoted softly.

"What?"

"It's a famous line in a poem. I can't remember what it is now. But it is lovely, don't you agree?"

"Yes," Maerad replied. A cold wind started up and Maerad shivered. Cadvan immediately took off his cloak and laid it around her shoulders. "You'll be cold," she protested, trying to give it back to him.

"You have it," he insisted. "I'm fine." So she pulled it tight around her and huddled inside its warmth. It felt as though he were embracing her, she thought, wishing suddenly that he would. A little later, her eyes began to close.

She woke up to find she was lying on her side on the ground, using Cadvan's cloak as a blanket and with her head on his chest. The sun had moved on a long way, and she guessed it was a few hours before sunset. She'd been asleep for at least an hour and a half. Groggily, she sat up and realised that Cadvan's arm had been around her, resting on her shoulder. As his hand dropped to the ground, Cadvan awoke with a slight start.

"Sorry; I woke you up," Maerad apologised.

"It's alright." He sat up, then laughed. "You have marks on your cheek from where you were lying," he told her, rubbing her right cheek gently with his first two fingers. His fingers stilled and he looked into her eyes, and Maerad was caught up in them again, falling so deep she forgot to breathe. Cadvan's fingers moved from her cheek and his thumb rubbed across her lips. Maerad was jerked back to the present by a swooping feeling in her stomach as he did this. Cadvan slid his hand away from her lips and ran it across her cheek to brush her hair behind her ear. His fingers slid down past her ear, around the corner of her jaw, and were finally withdrawn as they passed her neck. He took her hand again, interlocking their fingers.

"Maerad…I had a dream when we were in the Iron Tower," he said hesitantly. "About Ceredin." Maerad felt cheated, though unsure exactly why. Why did he have to bring her up? "I think it was true, and came from beyond the Gates. She told me that she forgives me, and that I should stop using her as an excuse."

"An excuse for what?"

"I didn't know at first. But now I think I do. Because she saw, when even I did not, what was happening to me. She always was an insightful little so-and-so," he added good-naturedly, even managing a smile. He looked up at Maerad again. What is it about his eyes that are so mesmerising? After a few moments, he looked back at the horses. Maerad frowned at him.

"What are you saying?"

"Me? No idea. I never listen to myself. Bad idea. Doesn't help." He was rambling now, and refusing to look at her. She had never seen him like this before, and decided to let the matter drop for now.

"The dance was good," she said, trying to break a little of the tension and return to the easy companionship they had been enjoying before. He had let go of her hand. Cadvan just nodded a little and sat with a pensive look on his face. Sighing, she gave up. He would not say anything in this mood. "I'm hungry now, and it must be almost time for dinner, so shall we go back?" He nodded again and helped her up, before plunging his hands into his pockets. He seemed so withdrawn now she might as well have been walking on her own. Stupid idiot, she thought grumpily. One mention of Ceredin and he goes all quiet. Why can't he get over her? Fool… She kicked at a pebble and scowled. The two of them had been asked to dine with Silvia and Malgorn that night, and so they made their way over to there. Maerad knocked loudly on the door and kicked it once when Silvia took more than a few minutes to answer. She pushed in before the door was even fully open and ignored Silvia's greeting. Cadvan also seemed to be lost in thought, it seemed to Silvia, and he murmured "Greetings" as though he were only half there. She closed the door with a sigh. This would be an…interesting dinner, she thought. They had obviously fallen out.

The mood at the table was quiet, as Maerad's and Cadvan's respective moods of being grumpy and lost in thought discouraged Malgorn and Silvia from speaking. Maerad had no appetite, and was simply forcing the food down to be polite, though she scowled still and with each mouthful she also had to swallow a big painful lump in her throat. In the end, Silvia could stand it no longer. She stood up.

"Alright, you two, I will not have you ruining my dinner so please, make up now. I know you are too good friends to fall out properly, so please forgive each other for whatever you have said or done."

"We haven't fallen out," Cadvan protested.

"Then why have you not said a word since you arrived and why is Maerad in a foul mood?" Malgorn cut in.

"I just…have nothing to say," Cadvan defended himself.

"I'm not in a foul mood," Maerad denied. She didn't want to look stupid and tell them the real reason for her mood, which she wasn't even sure about. She tried to cheer up for the rest of the meal, matching Cadvan's newfound smiles and gentle joking, though inside her brain was in total confusion. She walked part-way home with Cadvan, who had again lapsed into silence. She thought he was annoyed with her for something, though she didn't know what. Well, if he wasn't going to talk then neither was she. She held her head high in defiance and marched along beside him. He barely answered her "Goodnight" as they reached his house, and she again felt a stab of annoyance and scowled all the way home. Had he really been so open earlier? Had she imagined the whole thing? She slammed the door behind her.

Once inside, she went to her room and practised switching from her Bard shape to her Elidhu one, as well as the wolf. She didn't practise for long, as the pain was still quite intense - it was, however, much easier than it had used to be. The final time she turned into a wolf, her superior hearing caught the letterbox flap hitting against the door, and she quickly changed into her Elidhu shape and, with an effort so great that beads of sweat stood out on her forehead, she managed to transport herself to the door. Grinning smugly, she bent down and picked up a small piece of paper. It said simply, "The spaces between my fingers were meant to be filled with yours." It was unsigned, but she knew who it was from and smiled. She kept it safe under her pillow that night.