Naamah's Blessing - Jacqueline Carey [248]
“May you see Her true,” they chorused in unison.
Old Nemed ladled out two bowls of mushroom tea from the pot that had been simmering on the fire. We drank it down, both of us refraining from wincing at the bitter, acrid taste of it.
The slanting sunlight seemed to thicken like honey in the cavern as Camlan and Breidh helped us to the far opening where my mother and Mabon and Oengus stood waiting. Beyond them, the rocky slope fell away at a steep angle. Below was the verdant bowl of the glade, an immense cupped hand holding a sparkling lake, a scattering of pine-trees and the stone doorway, its shadow long and stark on the green grass.
“Do you remember what I said to you the first time, Moirin mine?” my mother murmured to me.
I nodded. “It gave me courage more times than I can count,” I whispered. “I have never, ever doubted your love.”
She gave me a hard, fierce embrace, then turned away, averting her face.
Oengus clapped a hand on Bao’s shoulder. “Come back to us as one of our own, eh, lad?” he said in a rough voice. “Like to get to know you better.”
Bao took a deep breath. “I pray it is so.”
My uncle Mabon said nothing, only raising his pipe to his lips, then lowering it in silence.
No one knew what would happen.
Without a further word spoken, Bao lowered himself from the ledge, dropping to the slope below. Turning back, he held out his hand to me, helping me down. Loose pebbles skidded under our bare feet. Bao unslung his staff, bracing himself on it and lending me his arm as we made the long, precarious descent, both of us dizzy from Nemed’s brew, gauging depths and distances with difficulty as we placed our feet with care.
At last we gained the bottom. As I had before, I turned back once to see six figures silhouetted in the opening.
As before, my mother raised her hand.
I raised mine in reply.
Soft blue twilight seemed to rise from the bowl of the glade, only a few streaks of gold lingering in the sky overhead. Bao and I walked toward the stone doorway, looking neither to the left nor the right. The doorway seemed to grow taller and taller as we neared it. We passed beneath its shadow and stood before it. Beyond it, the lake awaited us, shimmering in the dusk, lovely, but ordinary.
“So this is it,” Bao said without looking at me.
“Aye.”
He reached out his hand, and I took it. Together, we passed through the stone doorway, and the world changed.
Dusk turned to night, all at once pitch-black and brighter than day. Stars burst like pinwheels in the sky overhead. Every blade of grass was visible, every needle on every pine-tree, everything near and far at once. Everything was filled with splendid and terrible purpose, and ah, gods!
Knowing what to expect made no difference, no difference at all. It was so beautiful, so unspeakably beautiful.
“Oh, gods!” Bao whispered, tears in his voice. “Oh, Moirin!”
“I know,” I said. “I know.”
Dazed and stumbling, hand in hand, we made our way to the shores of the lake, silvery and shining, stars reflected in its depths.
There, we waited.
We sat cross-legged opposite one another, Master Lo’s last pupils, and breathed. It seemed a fitting tribute in that place. We breathed the Breath of Earth’s Pulse, grounding ourselves and listening to the heartbeat of the world. We breathed the Breath of Trees Growing, sensing the deep network of roots lacing the soil around us. We breathed the Breath of Ocean’s Rolling Waves, aware of distant seas ringing the island, waves breaking on its shores. We breathed the Breath of Wind’s Sigh, sensing the infinite vault of sky rising above us, and the Breath of Embers Glowing, fiery stars whirling before our eyes, heat pulsing in our veins.
There was no telling how long we waited. Time moved differently on the far side of the stone doorway.
A long time.
Long enough for hunger pangs to come and go. Long enough for weariness to settle into our bones, long enough for our heads