Stark against a brilliant sky, snow tipped the conical mountain that dominated the surrounding hills, with a hint of mist drifting across the lower slopes.
"Schiehallion," Bradan said quietly, "the sacred mountain. We avoid that like death and the deepest pit of hell."
"I have heard of it," Melcorka said. She looked across the intervening hills, a saw-toothed range that extended for scores of miles to the sacred peak. "Have you been there?"
"Never," Bradan said. "It is not a place to visit. The Daoine Sidhe, the People of Peace, are not people you wish to visit." He pulled her away. "They ask you to stay one night, and you are there for eternity."
Daoine Sidhe"Are they so hospitable?" Melcorka asked, with a wry smile.
"Have you heard the tale of the two pipers?" Bradan asked. "Two pip
