Naamah's Blessing - Jacqueline Carey [250]
I saw the elephant-headed god Ganesha laughing, his trunk upraised in joy. I saw dark-skinned Kali dancing, terrible and beautiful, her tongue outthrust, a necklace of skulls adorning her neck.
I saw Xochiquetzal trailing a cloud of birds and butterflies in her wake, and I saw the flower-garlanded ancestors of the Quechua rising with dignity.
I saw a glimpse, a fleeting glimpse, of the beyond that lay beyond.
All one.
All part of a whole.
And then I blinked, and it was gone. Here on the far side of the stone doorway, there was only the starlit glade, me, Bao, and the Great Bear Herself. She gave another soft, whuffling cough, Her breath stirring our hair. I laid my hands on Her coarse, wiry fur, running my fingers through it, feeling Her warm, living presence.
I wanted to thank Her, but there were no words.
She knew anyway.
Turning away, She left us, Her slow tread shaking the earth as She dwindled into the distance and vanished.
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.