Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [156]
This time, it was different.
I'd let myself feel, and I felt it go. A deep loss, severing me from myself. I felt it; felt the world lose brightness and fade. Like a stone blocking a chimney, Alais had said; to me, it felt more like a sodden blanket flung over a bright-burning hearth. Once again, I was divided against myself for my own protection. Tears sprang to my eyes, born of a pain I could no longer feel. "Fine," I said softly. "I feel fine. My thanks, Daughter of the Grove.”
Firdha nodded brusquely and began to sweep away the salt with a hazel-twig broom. "Go, then.”
I went.
Alais had watched the ritual with a pupil's grave interest, but she left the ollamh's hut with me, taking my hand and squeezing it. "I'm sorry, Imri," she said. "Did it hurt?”
"Thanks, love." I summoned a weary smile. "No, not exactly.”
"That's good." For a moment, I thought Alais would say more, but she didn't.
The rest of Clunderry was in high spirits following the cattle-raid. Urist had decided it would be for the best if my misadventure along the way was kept quiet, and his men had agreed. They would double their watch along the taisgaidh border and increase the reward for sightings, but in truth, there wasn't a great deal else to be done.
I told Dorelei, of course.
She'd suspected somewhat was amiss. I'd gone directly to Firdha's hut upon returning, without even pausing to bathe. No one else in the household thought it odd, but they didn't know D'Angelines the way she did. I told her about it immediately afterward, soaking in the tub while she scrubbed gently at my myriad bruises.
"I wondered," Dorelei murmured when I'd finished. "I had a dream last night.”
"A true dream?" I asked.
"No." She smiled wistfully. "No, I dreamed it was spring. My belly was huge, and I could feel the babe moving. I was fat and lazy and happy. You kept trying to feed me honeycomb, you said it would make her sweet-tempered.”
I laughed. "Her?”
"In the dream, I was sure of it. But it wasn't a true dream. It was nice, though." Dorelei examined me. "What's this in your hair?”
"Cow-dung," I said. "Dorelei, how do you know when a dream is a true dream?”
"Close your eyes." She poured a ewer of warm water over my head and began lathering my hair with a ball of soap. "You don't, not always. It takes practice. There's a way of paying attention in dreams, of listening for the small, still voice that says, 'Heed this.' Even then, you don't always remember or understand.”
"Do you think that's what the Maghuin Dhonn do?" I asked.
Her hands stopped moving. "No," she said at length. "No, even if our gift does stem from the same roots, I think whatever it is they do is darker and more dangerous. Dunk your head, Imri.”
I obeyed and came up streaming water. "Why?”
Dorelei regarded me, troubled. "If what they say is true, then they see far further and far more than the simple glimpses our dreams afford us. They see possibilities, things that may or may not come to pass, and they seek to alter the outcome. I don't know, Imriel. Even mere glimpses are difficult to bear. Too much knowledge may be a dangerous thing, enough to drive a person to madness. When you first encountered her, you said Morwen wanted you to leave Alba. Now this business of a child, a magician child…" She shuddered. "It sounds terrible.”
"Don't worry," I said grimly. "I've no intention of giving her a second chance.”
"I know." She took my hand and kissed the inside of my wrist below the soaked yarn binding. "But I wish you didn't have to live this way.”
I caressed her face. "It's not all bad, you know.”
"I do." Her dimples showed briefly. "Are you sufficiently clean?”
I got to my feet, dripping, and spread my arms. "What do you think?”
Dorelei laughed. It wasn't the laugh that had turned my world upside down and hollowed out a space in my heart no one else could fill; but it was her laugh, sweet and merry, ending in an endearing giggle.
And Elua help me, I had grown to love her.
It might not be enough, but what