It took a couple of days to reach the small settlement at Hawkham, where a few families lived by a stream that tumbled along the valley, winding its way through high rounded hills. They arrived before sundown, in time for the evening meal.
The Fey who took them in was a distant relation of Nectan’s, a Pict living among the Alt Clut British. Thomas was tired, and anxious about the coming Gathering, so when the meal was over he went to the stables where they would shelter for the night.
He woke with the Call to the Gathering ringing in his mind. Nectan and Domech were gone. The holding was quiet and dark under the stars.
Another test, he supposed, to find his way to the Gathering by himself. But he wasn’t worried. The Call would lead him. Going alone would give him the time he needed t
