Naamah's Blessing - Jacqueline Carey [252]
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.
Contents
FRONT COVER IMAGE
WELCOME
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
MAP
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-FOUR
THIRTY-FIVE
THIRTY-SIX
THIRTY-SEVEN
THIRTY-EIGHT
THIRTY-NINE
FORTY