Heart's Blood

“Brión of Whiteshore brought a priest with him to tend to the injured and speak prayers over the dying.We talked. I had been asking myself certain questions for some time, Caitrin; going over my past errors. We are taught that God forgives sinners. I did wonder if a sinner such as myself could ever be deserving of such mercy. I haven’t been sure, in the past, that I even wanted it. Something changed in me while you were gone. Perhaps it was the pattern of goodness that you brought with you. Perhaps it was the flowering of hope on the Tor. At any rate, I spoke to Brother Oisín of my past. He listened and gave his opinion that I was wrong about God’s mercy. So I’m working on repentance. Just as well, as it turns out. I pray that this ritual does not condemn me to a hundred years more in that gray place halfway between here and there. More than the fires of hell, I fear boredom.” He regarded me soberly, then flashed his big teeth in a new grin. “And no, I didn’t ask Brother Oisín about a certain secret library. He seemed the kind of man who would be deeply shocked by such a notion.”

“Anluan will never seek it out,” I said, glancing over to where the chieftain of Whistling Tor was now bidding a grave farewell to Rioghan. “He will conduct tonight’s ritual because he must; nobody else can make it work. I believe that after this he will shun the least exercise of magical arts. He fears becoming his great-grandfather all over again. I think he will destroy the grimoires.”

“Mm.” A look of speculation entered Eichri’s shadowy eyes. “This place is full of magic, Caitrin. Whistling Tor was a place of eldritch tales long before Nechtan came along to dabble in sorcery. Such a long cloak of uncanny history is not so easily cast aside. Anluan should keep his books, just in case he needs them.That’s my opinion. Farewell, my dear. Look after that fine man of ours.”

“I will.” I scrubbed a hand across my cheeks.

“It’s time.” Anluan’s deep voice sounded across the darkening courtyard and a hush descended. Magnus lit a torch from the little brazier and climbed the steps to set it in a socket near the door of the house. The flickering red light sent Anluan’s shadow across the ritual circle to touch the empty space in the center. The people of the host began to gather between snake and star, five silent groups of men, women and children. I had wondered how the spaces Olcan had marked out could accommodate so many, but there they were within the lines of sand, a somber, shadowy throng. Rioghan slipped off his red cloak, dropping it onto the flagstones where it lay like a pool of dark blood. Eichri was waiting close by.The two old friends embraced, looking long into each other’s eyes.

“I’ll wager two silver pieces we end up together again, Councillor,” Eichri said, and Rioghan said, “Done, Brother!” But all they exchanged was a smile. Eichri’s brethren were forming a small procession, their lips moving in silent prayer. He stepped into the line, and they moved into the circle as if entering a chapel. Rioghan placed himself with the warriors, who clasped his hand in greeting and farewell, each in turn.

Gearróg was at the foot of the steps, keeping guard over Anluan until the very last moment. I went to stand beside him.

“Thank you, Gearróg,” I said. “For keeping Anluan safe for me; for courage beyond the call of duty. For being yourself. I hope you will see your dear ones again soon. I wish you happiness, my loyal friend.”

If he could have spoken at that moment, he would have. I could see that there was too much in his heart to allow words. He gave a nod, then moved away to take his place amongst the host.

On the bottom step close by me a small figure crouched, head down, shoulders hunched, bundle in her hands. Trying to be overlooked; trying to be invisible.

“It’s time, Caitrin,” Anluan said, glancing at the child, then at me.

I sat down on the step beside her and put an arm around her shoulders. It was like plunging my arm into ice water. “Sweetheart,” I murmured, “you have to go now. You need to step into the circle with the others. Time to say goodbye.”

Frost-white face turned up towards mine; shadowy eyes fixed on me. “Go where?” she asked.

“Somewhere good,” I told her, feeling like a liar and a traitor. “You might see your mama again, maybe.”

“I want to stay with you,” the ghost child said, her little voice clear and true. “You can be my mama.”

A spear straight to the heart. I could not find an answer, for none was right.

“Come, little one.”The wise woman reached out a hand.“Step over to me. Take care not to set your feet on the sand; lift them up high, as if you were dancing.”

The child did not look at me again. She walked across, stepping neatly, carrying my mother’s embroidered kerchief and the last fragments of Róise, token of my sister’s love. She stood beside the wise woman, between two points of the star. Her eyes stared into nowhere.