nothing, then," he told them. "And I look forward to seeing you at the feast tonight."
When Young Fean had left Corum looked enquiringly at Ilbrec, but Ilbrec pretended an intense interest in honing his sword and would not meet Corum's eye.
Corum rubbed at his face. "I recall a time when I would have smiled at the very idea of magical forces at work in the world," he said.
Ilbrec nodded abstractedly, as if he did not really hear what Corum said.
''But now I have come to rely on such things.'' Corum's expression was ironic. "And must, perforce, believe in them. I have lost my faith in logic and the power of reason."
Ilbrec looked up. "Perhaps your logic was too narrow and your reason limited, friend Corum?" he said quietly.
"Maybe." Corum sighed and moved to follow Young Fean through the tent-flap. Then, suddenly, he stopped short, putting his head on one side and listening hard. "Did you hear that sound?"
Ilbrec listened. "There are many sounds in the camp."
"I thought I heard the sound of a harp playing."
Ilbrec shook his head. "Pipes—in the distance—but no harp." Then he frowned, listening again. ' 'Possibly, very faint, the strains of a harp. No." He laughed.' 'You are making me hear it, Corum.''
But Corum knew he had heard the Dagdagh harp for a few moments and he was, again, troubled. He said nothing more of it to Ilbrec, but went out of the tent and across the field, hearing a distant voice crying his name:
"Corum! Corum!"
He turned. Behind him a group of kilted warriors were resting, sharing a bottle and conversing amongst themselves. Beyond these warriors Corum saw Medhbh running over the grass. It was Medhbh he had heard.
She ran round the group of warriors and stopped a foot or so from him, hesitantly stretching out her arm and touching his shoulder.' 'I sought you out in our chambers," she said softly, "but you had gone. We must not quarrel, Corum."
At once Corum's spirits lifted and he laughed and embraced her, careless of the warriors who had turned their attention upon the couple.
' 'We shall not quarrel again," he said. ' 'Blame me, Medhbh.''
"Blame no one. Blame nothing. Unless it be Fate." She kissed him. Her lips were warm. They were soft. He forgot his fears.
"What a great power women have," he said. "I have recently been speaking with Ilbrec of magic, but the greatest magic of all is in the kiss of a woman."
She pretended astonishment. "You become sentimental, Sir Sidhi."
And again, momentarily, he sensed that she withdrew from him. Then she laughed and kissed him again. "Almost as sentimental as Medhbh!"
Hand in hand they wandered through the camp, waving to those they recognized or those who recognized them. At the edge of the camp several smithies had been set up. Furnaces roared as bellows forced their flames higher and higher. Hammers clanged on anvils. Huge, sweating men in aprons plunged iron into the fires and brought it out white and glowing and making the air shimmer. And in the center of all this activity was Goffanon, also in a great leathern apron, with a massive hammer in his hand, a pair of tongs in the other, deep in conversation with a black-bearded Mabden whom Corum recognized as the master smith Hisak, whose nickname was Sunthief, for it was said he stole the stuff of the sun itself and made bright weapons with it. In the nearby furnace a narrow piece of metal was immersed even now. Goffanon and Hisak watched this with considerable concentration as they talked and plainly it was this piece of metal they discussed.
Corum and Medhbh did not greet the two, but stood to one side and watched and listened.
"Six more heartbeats," they heard Hisak say, "and it will be ready."
Goffanon smiled. "Six and one-quarter heartbeats, believe me, Hisak."
"I believe you, Sidhi. I have learned to respect your wisdom and your skills."
Already Goffanon was extending his tongs into the fire. With a strange gentleness he gripped the metal and then swiftly withdrew it, his eye