EIGHTY-EIGHT
Did you…?” I asked, unable to frame the question.
Bao drew a long shuddering breath. “Aye,” he said simply. “I saw.”
“Well,” I said in a display of profound inadequacy, still at a loss for words. “Well, then.”
He glanced around, wonder and regret in his face. “We can’t stay here, can we, Moirin? Not yet anyway.”
I shook my head. “No.”
“It’s enough to know.” Bao squared his shoulders, his expression turning to one of resolve. “More than enough for anyone’s lifetime. Shall we go?”
I nodded. “Aye.”
We turned as one toward the stone doorway, both of us pausing in surprise at the sight of a figure standing silhouetted in it. It was a young woman of the Maghuin Dhonn, a cloak of starlight seeming to cling to her. Even as I stared, she came toward us, her bare feet gliding over the silvered grass, her face unfamiliar and amused.
“Do you not know me, daughter of Fainche?” she asked; and if her face was strange to me, there was somewhat in her voice I knew.
“Lady Nemed,” Bao said in a low tone beside me.
She laughed. “Death can’t fool this one, can it?” Her eyes shone in the starlight, dark and clear. “It’s good to get a look at you, lad.”
I swallowed. “You’re…?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” The mirth left Nemed’s face, leaving it solemn. “The task falls to you now, Moirin mac Fainche. You’ve passed the final test. And now that I’ve passed through the stone doorway, you’ll be its keeper.”
I gazed at her in disbelief. “Me? But my lady, I can’t! I don’t know… gods have mercy, anything!”
“Hush.” Nemed laid a hand on my cheek, and her touch was as soothing as my mother’s. “You’ll have teachers a-plenty, child. I’ve seen to it. But it was to you that my gift passed, and it is to you that the role falls.”
“I can’t,” I repeated, feeling foolish. “My lady, I’ve obligations in Terre d’Ange, and an oath to keep!”
Nemed clicked her tongue. “Do you think the Great Bear Herself does not know this? She chose you.”
“But…”
Her gaze deepened. “You bridge two worlds, Moirin mac Fainche, even as your husband has bridged the worlds between life and death. It is not a bad thing at all to let the mortal world know that it has need of the Maghuin Dhonn, nor to remind the folk of the Maghuin Dhonn that our time has not yet passed. You will find a way to honor your oath while making the rite your own. It need not be held every season.” Nemed smiled a little. “A place in the hollow hills has been prepared for you, but you are not bound to it every waking moment, Fainche’s daughter.”
There was a suspicious glint in Bao’s eyes. “A place?”
Nemed laughed again. “It is more than a mere cave, Yingtai’s son. I do not think you will be displeased.”
His eyes widened. “How do you know my mother’s name?”
She patted his cheek without answering the question. “It is well that fate has appointed Moirin such a strong protector. But I fear you cannot linger here. A long life and joy to both of you.”
“But—” I said again.
Old Nemed, no longer old, but young and lovely, made a shooing gesture at us. “Go on with you! The world is waiting.”
We went.
We went with slow, uncertain steps. The stone doorway loomed above us, its shadow black on the starlit grass. I glanced back to see Nemed watching us, starlight sparkling all around her. With an expression of profound amusement and deep affection, she shook her head at me and pointed at the stone doorway.
Without a word, Bao reached out his hand to me. I took it, and we passed through the stone doorway as we had entered it, hand in hand.
In the space of a single heartbeat, starlight gave way to the bright, ordinary light of day. The sky was a bright, cheerful blue overhead, and the grass beneath our feet was green. There were birds singing and a faint scent of wood-smoke on the breeze.
I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding.
“It seems our long journey has come to an end, Moirin,” Bao murmured. “Truly and at last.”
I squeezed his hand. “Aye.”
When we reached the cavern, there was no need to explain. They knew. The mood was one of subdued sorrow and muted joy. Old Nemed’s body lay swaddled in blankets, a makeshift litter waiting to transport her.
I stooped to touch it, then rose, tears in my eyes. “Mother…”
My mother wrapped her arms around me and pressed her lips close to my ear, sighing with relief, her warm breath stirring my hair. “Moirin mine. Ah, child! Don’t grieve for her. She knew her time was nigh. This was the ending she hoped would come to pass.”
“Did you?” I asked.
She kissed my brow. “I dared hope only for your safe return.”
“I’m scared,” I admitted. “And I don’t know what I’m meant to do.”
She smiled. “I know.”
“You will learn in time.” It was the young woman Camlan who spoke, clearing her throat in an apologetic manner. “It need not come all at once. We are here to help, all of us. Nemed did her best to prepare us for this day, and we will do our best to teach you.” She paused. “The last thing she said before she passed… Is it true you made the Maghuin Dhonn Herself laugh?”
I flushed. “Oh…”
Bao grinned. “Aye, Moirin did.”
They absorbed that in silence, save for my uncle Mabon, who played a merry, irreverent melody on his silver pipe. “Will you come and see the place that awaits you?” he inquired, lowering his pipe and winking at the young man Breidh, who gave him a shy, complicit smile. “I’ve helped labor myself to make it ready.”
We nodded.
The place was only a short walk away, less than an hour’s time. It was a cave, but as Old Nemed had promised, it was no mere cave. It was part and parcel of the hollow hills themselves.
There were honeycombed passages, the walls themselves as smooth and sleek and golden as honey. Light slanted in to illuminate it from odd angles, openings covered with slatted shades that could be drawn closed or opened. The main living space was vast and airy, and there were a dozen other chambers suitable for lodging, and a deep, cool cavern at the back that served as a larder, stocked with all manner of supplies.
There was wooden furniture so smooth it gleamed, looking almost as though it had been grown rather than crafted. There were pallets stuffed with sweet, fragrant dried grass and herbs. Outside, there was a stream a stone’s throw from the cavern, a meadow where the horses grazed contentedly, and forest beyond.
It was beautiful.
It felt like home.
“We’ll stay with you for a time,” Oengus announced. “We’ll help you learn all the ways of our folk there wasn’t time to teach you after your first initiation. Do you think you can abide here?”
I glanced at Bao.
He grinned back at me. “As caves go, this is something of a palace, Moirin. I could raise a family here.”
“I would like that,” my mother said quietly.
I hugged her. “So would I.”
That evening, we laid Old Nemed to rest in a green mound in the meadow. It was a somber, peaceful affair. I watched Bao working side by side with Oengus, Mabon, and Breidh, laying thick green rolls of turf they had cut earlier, tamping them carefully back into place. His diadh-anam burned bright within him, still attuned to mine, but his own now that the Maghuin Dhonn Herself had claimed him.
Afterward, Mabon played his silver pipe, and Camlan sang in a clear, pure voice that melded with his song, notes rising up into the gilded sky.
And then we returned to the cavern, where there were lamps kindled against the gathering dusk, making the honeyed walls glow warm and amber. We ate and drank, sharing the last of Mabon’s cask of uisghe, sharing memories and tales of Old Nemed’s life and the folk of the Maghuin Dhonn.
Mostly, Bao and I listened.
There would be time and more to tell our own tales in full. For now, I was content to listen and learn, to feel myself well and truly home at last. And I was grateful, so very grateful, to see the same contentment reflected in Bao’s face. Grace was not always found where one expected it. My restless magpie Bao had found it here in Alba, in the beyond of the fathomless eyes of the Great Bear Herself, in the Way to which all ways lead.
At last it was time to retire. It was quiet and hushed in the pleasant sleeping-chamber allotted to us, a faint summer breeze stirring through a hidden aperture. I set the lamp I carried in a smooth niche in the wall that might have been made for that very purpose. It burned with a clear, bright light, setting the shadows to dancing on the honey-colored walls of the cavern. My gaze fell on the pack that contained the candle Sister Gemma had given me.
“Now is likely not the time for lovemaking and thoughts of plump babes, is it?” I said, feeling suddenly and unaccountably shy.
“Moirin.” Bao laid his hands on my shoulders. His dark, angled eyes glinted at me with fond humor. Lamplight glistened on the gold hoops in his ears, flickered along the stark zig-zag tattoos marking his corded forearms, and the hint of a smile curved his lips. “The choice is yours. But as one who has bridged the worlds between death and life, I think there can be no greater tribute than to celebrate the latter.”
“Are you sure?” I asked him.
He kissed me. “Very.”
It was a good kiss, gentle enough to be reassuring, firm enough to assert his desire, with enough passion in it to leave me a bit breathless.
Rummaging in my pack, I found the candle. Such a simple thing, a slender beeswax taper, sweet and fragrant.
All it required was an earnest prayer and a willing heart, Sister Gemma had told me. Kneeling before the lamp, I gazed at the homely flame.
I saw the future unfurl before me. Like the eyes of the Maghuin Dhonn Herself, the flame contained worlds, worlds of ordinary pleasure and ordinary pain. There was the pleasure of lovemaking and the grace inherent in Naamah’s blessing, the bright lady’s smile. There was the pain of childbirth, and the multitude of joys and terrors attendant on motherhood; the first words, the first steps, injuries and illnesses. There was all the immense pride and delight, and all the helplessness and horror.
There was the terrifying prospect of further destinies that might claim my own children, sending them across unknown seas; and there was the peaceful prospect of a quiet hearth and home. There were quarrels fought and forgiveness rendered. There were hearts broken and mended, there were tears and laughter. There were children and grandchildren, and the wisdom and infirmities of old age.
There was life, in all its mortal, messy splendor. And always and always, there was love.
“Moirin?” Bao said behind me.
I blinked, and the flame was only a flame once more. “Aye,” I murmured. “I am here.” Lifting the wax taper, I took a long, slow breath and uttered the prayer. “Eisheth, I beseech you, open the gates of my womb.”
And with that, I lit the candle.