Inside, Eoeun were hushed. Alistir had come in. 1 of Muc’s daughters she fashioned pots from river clay and could play a finer double flute than anyone could remember. She sat now crosslegged on a square table and played wearing a green tunic over which firelight rippled.
         I moved along the wall, then leaned a shoulder against the hearth alcove listening intently.
        Alistir played, she could play like magic. It was magic the way she could lead the sounds of her flute through me. The harmonics vibrating in my bones and soft tissues she let linger there reverberating and changing. I felt a tugging on my tunic. The olders on the settle had made a place for me. I sat. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes and journeyed in the music.
 

        It was late when Alistir finished. She set the double flute in its drawstring bag and left, smiling with pleasure as 1 after another called to her softly and sang to her softly how they treasured her music, how warm and satisfied with life it made them feel, and they tapped their palms on the tables in tribute.
         They began to leave. It was late, but they left because, they nodded to each other, what could be done after Alistir? It didn’t seem right to do anything more. It was a feeling like that which pervaded when Sem Partoldi spoke so amazingly of Heourkavna.
         I remained on the settle, nodding to the olders as they departed, nodding to Sem Partoldi as she left ponderous and stately.
        Bartholomea closed up.
        Annie Pyle laid the fire for morning. She came to me and seeing in me what was sober, distant, melancholy, Annie smiled, sweet and friendly. She took my hand, drawing me up, so I stood and went with her. Regis waited at the foot of the stairs. She slipped her arm around me, and the 3 of us went up.