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When Calain and Selene returned with the crystals, Zelda chose the largest, clearest one from the bunch and boiled it in her cauldron, inside the mixture of her and Calain’s blood and hair. Then she took the crystal – which was about the length of her forearm—and plunged it in the soil of the courtyard garden. And every day, as if the crystal were some strange turnip, Zelda could be seen watering it and humming happily as she did so.
“This is the strangest magick that e’er I saw,” laughed Gweneth, who watched Zelda in the courtyard from a window.
“Aye,” said Calain, but she privately thought magick quite amazing. She had never thought in her wildest dreams that she would ever have a child, but magick had allowed her the experience. Twice now! She wondered if she would ever see Aereth again. She hoped daily that the girl would suddenly return and felt a sad longing in her heart each and every time she glanced at the castle gates from a window.
Gweneth also missed Aereth and was still drinking a little heavily, but the prospect of a new child seemed to lighten her mood. Calain was glad for that.
The crystal grew rapidly. On the fourth day, it was the height and width of a small child, and indeed, they could see a child standing inside it as if behind misty glass, eyes closed, as if the crystal were a bizarre sort of egg.
One morning, Calain went down to look more closely at the child and saw she possessed a wild wreath of strawberry-blonde hair. If only her little eyes would open, Calain would be able to see their color, but the eyes were closed in the sweet little face that so greatly resembled her own. The girl had Zelda’s lips, though, and the almond shape of Zelda’s eyes.
“She is a bit like a clone of us,” said Zelda, who had appeared at Calain’s shoulder. Her loving eyes were on the child in the crystal. “It is how she could be made without a man’s part.”
Calain put her arm around Zelda. “I shall protect her and love her all the days of my life,” she swore softly. “I shall never leave again nor give myself over to fear and doubt.”
Zelda smiled and rested her head on Calain’s shoulder. “Good. Because if you stray again, I shall blast thee to smithereens. And then what shall I tell our daughter when she doth question me about the stain in the yard?”
Calain laughed, but her green eyes grew thoughtful as she said, “But what shall we name her?”
“How dost thou feel about the name Seren?”
“Seren,” said Calain thoughtfully. “That is pretty. I like it.” She hugged Zelda tight in her arm, and Zelda smiled.
As the child grew, the Knights of Falcon raced to sew clothes for her. Calain had never been good at sewing, but she sat up all night with the others, trying to learn for her child’s sake. Zelda sometimes joined in, but she was mostly so busy fussing over the crystal-child that she hardly had time. She explained to them that the temper of the crystal had to be kept at a certain warmth. If the sunlight proved to faint, she would have to light a magick fire around the crystal to heat it. It would speed up the process – which none of them wanted, swamped as they were trying to make clothes – and so, Zelda struggled to keep the crystal warm with natural sunlight alone, experimentally moving the crystal around the courtyard and burying it in more sunny spots.
Lowri was more excited than any of them. She did her best to assist Zelda with caring for the crystal and went about the castle humming and singing jovially. Every time she saw Calain, she pinched her cheek and shrieked that she was going to be a grandmother, much to the amusement of the other Knights of Falcon, who laughed at Calain’s irritated protests.
Brigid had raised Zelda’s castle onto a cliff, so that it was high and overlooking the swamps of the Aelwith Wilds. If one were to look out a western window, Erhyrst City was visible from it, as well as Castle Eormed, which stood on a cliff overshadowing the sea.
They still hadn’t decided on a name for their home. Over supper in the great dining hall, they sat at the long wooden table (close together at one end) and argued back and forth, joked and laughed, as they dined by candlelight on wine, roast pheasant, potatoes, greens, and bread. Calain and Selene bickered, Cassandra settled them down, Gweneth teased. Lowri tut-tutted when Calain swore and slapped her hand when she reached for an apple, telling her it was filthy and to wash it (this after banging a washbasin on the table, in which Calain wearily dipped her hands).
“We need a formidable name,” said Gweneth, whose elbows were on the table as she chewed (Lowri prodded them off). “Something that will scare people, keep them away.”
“The castle doth have enchantments for that,” Selene reminded her.
Gweneth scoffed. “You put so much faith in magick! Why? Wolf Fortress also had enchantments! And yet, it did not protect Aereth! And we came all this way because it could not protect us!”
Zelda sadly cast her eyes down – as she always did when Aereth was mentioned – and Calain kicked Gweneth under the table. (“Ouch! Hey!”)
“I think Cassandra should decide,” said Zelda, looking at Cassandra fondly.
Cassandra swallowed a spoonful of hot stew and licked her lips, looking around at Zelda. “Shall I, my lady?”
Zelda smiled. “Well, you’re the one who saved us with your vision! If you hadn’t seen what was coming, we likely would have lingered at Wolf Fortress long enough to be slain!”
Everyone looked at Cassandra, who smiled – as if she knew this would happen, Calain thought – and said, “I fancy the name Velli’Ma.”
“Velli’Ma,” repeated Gweneth softly. “What does it mean?”
“In the old elven tongue,” answered Cassandra, “it means . . . eternal joy.”
Calain laughed with delight and so did Lowri. “I like that!” Calain said, gazing fondly at Cassandra across the table. She banged her fist on it. “We shall live in a castle of joy!”
The knights all cheered and lifted their goblets, and Zelda leaned over and kissed Cassandra on the cheek.