“You put your finger in here,” Susanna explained, “and if you have a special talent, if you are one of the Y Dawnus, one of these jewels will glow.”
Arthur leaned forward and gazed solemnly at the jewels. “Which ones?”
“Well, if you have the talent to be a Druid the emerald will glow. The emerald is for Modron, the Great Mother, and Druids belong to her. Or, if you should be a Bard, the sapphire, which is for Taran of the Winds, will light up. The pearl is for the Dewin, who belong to Nantsovelta, the Lady of the Waters. And the opal is for the Dreamer, who belongs to Mabon of the Sun.”
“Like Uncle Gwydion.”
“Yes,” Susanna smiled. “Like your Uncle Gwydion.”
“What about the others?” Arthur asked.
“The diamond is for Sirona of the Stars and the garnet for Grannos the Healer. The ruby is for Y Rhyfelwr, the Warrior Twins, Camulos and Agrona. Those don’t light up, but are there for us to remember whom they represent. The amethyst and the topaz are for Cerridwen and Cerrunnos, the Protectors of Kymru. The topaz and the amethyst will glow for anyone who is Kymri. In the middle is the onyx for Annwyn, the Lord of Chaos and the bloodstone is for his wife Aertan, the Weaver of Fate, the King and Queen of the Otherworld.”
“Just a moment, Susanna.” Gwydion went to the windows, and closed the shutters one by one.
“It’s too dark now,” Ygraine said acidly. “I can barely see.”
With a gesture, all the candles in the room lit at once with Druid’s Fire. “Is that better?” Gwydion asked. Without waiting for an answer he nodded at Susanna. “Go ahead.”
“All right, Arthur, just put your finger in this opening here on the side of the box.”
Arthur did so and for a moment nothing happened. The box made a slight clicking sound and then began to whir quietly.
Suddenly, shockingly, every jewel on the box began to glow. Bright columns of light shot up from each jewel, mingling together on the ceiling. Brighter and brighter the jewels glowed and the humming sound grew louder and louder. Gwydion jumped to Susanna’s side and pulled the box away from her frozen hands, pulling Arthur’s finger out at the same time. Instantly the lights and the noise cut off, as though a door to another world had been abruptly shut.
Little Morrigan began to cry and Ygraine went to the cradle and swiftly picked her up, hushing her. Arthur, startled, did not cry, but his lower lip trembled. Uthyr reached down and picked his son up, cuddling him in his lap. The comfort of his father’s arms quieted the child, but his eyes were wide.
“It was too loud,” Gwydion explained. “Another minute and everyone would have come to see what was happening.”
“Gods, I’ve never seen that before! I’ve heard of it but never—” Susanna said.
“It hasn’t happened for over two hundred years.” Gwydion said tightly.
Susanna, still shocked, turned to Uthyr. “Did you know?”
“I guessed,” Uthyr admitted, his voice shaking.
“You never said anything to me,” Ygraine said, coldly eyeing her husband as she continued to hush Morrigan.
“I asked him not to,” Gwydion broke in.
Ygraine turned her cold stare to Gwydion. “Why?”
Gwydion took a deep breath. “This must be a secret for now. No one else must know.”
“What?” Ygraine’s voice was shrill. “How dare you? My son, my son is to be the High King. And you want to stop it? You can’t stand the idea of a High King in Kymru again? Someone that might prevent you from doing exactly as you please? You—”
Gwydion face was pale with anger. “Shut up,” he hissed. “You stupid fool, I’m trying to keep your son alive.”
“You lie,” Ygraine snapped.
Uthyr raised his hand and silence abruptly descended. “Susanna,” he said quietly, “please take Arthur to the kitchens and get him something to eat. And please take Morrigan to her nurse.” Ygraine handed Morrigan to Susanna as Uthyr went on. “And, until I tell you otherwise, what happened here today did not happen.” Susanna nodded. Uthyr looked down at his son. “Arthur, do you understand? Not a word to anyone.”
“Yes Da.”
“All right. Go with Susanna. And, Susanna, not a word—not even to Griffi.” Susanna nodded again and held out her hand to Arthur. The three left the room quietly.
Stern, Uthyr turned to his wife. “You will not speak again, Ygraine, until Gwydion explains himself.” Gwydion had never heard Uthyr speak in that tone to his wife before. Apparently, neither had Ygraine. Her hands tightened on the arms of her chair until her knuckles were white, but she did not speak.