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ancestors to conduct her spirit to sanctuary in the Netherworld. Without such guides, she is not likely to find her way there alone. She could be lost to wander frightened and confused through the Otherworld
instead, a helpless ghost. There she would easily fall prey to evil spirits.”
    From the hollows of her sunken eyes, the Uni Ati gave Repana a searing look. “You have no choice,” she said. Then she hobbled from the house.
    As Repana stood beside her daughter, clutching the knife in fingers turned to ice, she could hear the old woman’s cracked tones beyond the door. “Caile, we will require your services after all. Dress yourself in your ceremonial robes and summon the townspeople. There is to be a Dying.”
    â€œA Dying? But why?” Pepan demanded to know. “Appalling as they are, Vesi’s injuries need not be fatal. You can heal them, First Mother. Your skills are …”
    â€œBe silent and do not interrupt me! Repana has chosen to give the girl to Veno because she is carrying the spawn of a siu ,” the old woman snapped. “Were Vesi to live, her child would bring disaster to the race of the Rasne.”

FIVE
    F rom its source on the northwestern slope of the Apennines the water flowed relentlessly downward. At first an inconsequential rivulet that sang to itself in the sun, the stream gathered force as it descended. In time a mighty river swept seaward to a raw young city sprawling across seven hills.
    Long before the birth of Rome, the Etruscans had named the river Tiber, meaning notched. Of all the watercourses that flowed through their land, this was the most important: Father Tiber.
    Like fertile Sister Nile and dark Brother Styx, the Tiber was both a barrier and a conduit. Unpolluted and pristine, the living waters of the great rivers straddled the divide between the worlds of flesh and spirit. Strange beings inhabited the three realms—Earthworld, Otherworld, Netherworld—traversed by these rivers.
    Only rarely did the occupants of one realm venture into another.
    The great river gave life and took life. On its journey
to the sea it drained meadowland and fed marsh; incubated dragonflies, dissolved the flesh of carrion, and scrubbed the bones clean. Some worshipped it, some feared it, and only the fool ignored it.
    The river was unforgiving.
    Denizens of the Otherworld clustered most thickly around the Tiber’s banks, and Earthworld hunters found the richest bounty there.
    Wulv pressed the tip of his bronze dagger into the pile of dung in the center of the path. The outer crust cracked open to reveal a moist and steaming interior. The man smiled to himself, but the expression was distorted by the scars that covered the left side of his face, pulling his lips away from his teeth in a permanent leer. Unkempt hair straggled to his shoulders; eyebrows as tangled as briar thickets overhung his deep-set brown eyes. Even among his own tribespeople, the Teumetes, Wulv was considered ugly.
    But he knew how to track animals.
    The boar had passed this way recently and was keeping to the trail, a well-worn animal trail winding through the forest west of the Tiber. If the beast followed the usual pattern, it was heading for a familiar lair.
    Of course, there was always the possibility that it would break with the pattern. Throughout his life Wulv had hunted bear, wolf, and wildcat, but of all creatures, boar were the most unpredictable. Bears were not much better, however. The bear that had torn open his face should have been hibernating when a much younger Wulv stumbled across its den. The bear had taken his face—but he had taken its hide. Made into a mantle, the trophy still hung across his broad shoulders.
    Wulv had been tracking this particular boar for three days, patiently, biding his time. Any other hunter would have abandoned the pursuit and returned to the comfort of friends and family, but Wulv had neither to distract him. All he had was