Your sister, my good woman? I am sorry this has come to you at a festival, but God has taken her at a blessed moment into the very arms of his own angel. I am so sorry, so sorry you are ill, but don't grieve, my darling, I still have two sons, I don't blame you- Oh, you don't, do you? said the old midwife, still truculent. Her long hair was spread out on the surface like water weeds, and Morgaine, stunned with grief, could Cai chuckled.
of Britain, hawk of the Sight, messenger of the Great Raven-and I see now another heart in the land, and it shines forth from Camelot. Cai feels he is fit for nothing but to turn the spit and serve the plates. Against that sound, Morgaine dared not raise her voice to cry the word of power which would summon the barge, nor take upon her the form of the Goddess. She would not be the first woman, even at court, to rid herself of an unwanted child.
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