There was no reply; the ancestors had no answers to her questions. So, when the long farewells were ended, Nessa sat in silent meditation, for one could not command this voice if it would not come. Upright she sat, cross-legged, straight-backed, eyes open but unseeing, and made her mind still, empty, ready for what might come to her before another dawn sent its first fingers of light into the upper chamber. For a long time there was nothing. Perhaps even the ancient powers were silenced on a night of such loss; perhaps it was beyond even them to find a meaning in such sorrow and waste. On some level, Nessa understood that the night was well past, that light would come soon. Her ears registered the little sounds of the dog shifting about in the upper chamber, snuffling, sighing, settling again to rest and watch. And at last came a fragment of thought.

Bone and ash…bone and ash…in bone and ash shall you find truth…how strong are you, Nessa?

Strong enough, came her answer. I must be.

Are you sure of that?

How can I not be sure? There is nobody else to do what must be done.

You are not quite alone, Daughter. Summon your strength. Find your path now. Time runs short for the Folk. In bone and ash, find the true way…

Morning came. As the light filtered into the chamber above her, Nessa withdrew from her trance, slowly this time, careful of her weary body and shattered spirit, until she could move fingers and toes, stretch her back, rise at last to make her way up the crumbling steps to be greeted ecstatically by a licking, whining Guard. She went out into the day. The air was warmer; the sky was a sweet, mild blue, the color of her warrior’s eyes, but she would not think of that, she would not think of him. She must make a plan and go from here. If Somerled suspected she still lived, surely this was the first place he would look for her.