Naamah's Kiss - Jacqueline Carey [38]
Nemed inhaled deeply.
Something elusive slithered in the space behind my eyes, slippery as an eel. I felt it spooling out of me and cried aloud at the sense of loss. And then the old woman swallowed and exhaled, blowing softly into the void the thing had left behind. A cool mist filled my thoughts and dissipated.
Nemed released me. "There you are."
"That's all?" I shook myself. "But you didn't do anything."
"Oh, aye?" She smiled dourly and picked up my right hand. "How did you come by yon scar?"
"That?" I glanced at it. "I don't recall. I've had it since I was little." I did remember, though; I remembered my mother folding my hand closed over it not two minutes ago, saying it wasn't a memory I'd miss. And it was gone, gone as surely as though it had never existed. My skin prickled. "Stone and sea!" I whispered. "That's a dire magic!"
"Aye." Nemed nodded. "So it is."
"And that, I suspect," Oengus said in a disapproving voice, appearing behind the old woman, "is why it works only on the consenting and ought never be used for aught but the most sacred purpose. Little over a hundred years ago, Alba and Terre d'Ange alike were nearly brought to their knees by the use of such magic."
Nemed made a dismissive sound. "That was altogether different and nothing to do with us."
Oengus folded his arms. "Nonetheless."
"Peace, both of you," my mother offered. "Moirin wanted to know and now she does. Mayhap the gift will pass to her one day. After all, it has to pass to someone."
"I'm not that old!" Nemed said sharply.
Oengus coughed. "You are, actually."
I let them bicker, rubbing the faint scar and gazing toward the end of the cavern. It seemed impossible that an entire memory was simply gone. I thought about the tale Oengus had mentioned. I knew it, of course; it was in one of the histories Cillian had brought me. Magicians from Carthage had stolen away the memories of the Cruarch of Alba and the entire peerage of Terre d'Ange and replaced them with falsehoods, and then stolen the Queen's heir. Terre d'Ange had sunk into madness. It was a terrible and wonderful tale, filled with star-crossed lovers and a demon trapped in a stone. And in the end, the enchantment had been undone and all was restored.
"Can you return it?" I asked Nemed.
She cocked her head. "Eh?"
"A memory," I said. "Can you put it back?"
"No, child." Nemed shook her head. "I can tell you what it was, but I can't restore it to you. I've no gift to hold another's memories to barter and trade, only to take what's offered. Once I've swallowed it, it's gone from you. Gone for good."
"Oh." I rubbed the scar with my opposite thumb. "All right, then."
The remainder of the day passed all too swiftly.
I ate no food, drank only water from a cistern deep within the hollow hill that Camlan and Breidh brought and offered to me in a brimming bucket with a wooden dipper. The water tasted like minerals and stone, but it was cold and good.
All too soon, the bright light at the end of the cavern took on a golden hue. Mabon, watching over the glade, turned to us. "It's time," he said simply.
Nemed beckoned, holding a jar of salve. "Where are the youngest?"
Camlan and Breidh came forward, dipping their fingers in the jar. I closed my eyes and let them smear the salve on my lids. It smelled sharp and stung a little.
"May you see Her true," they said in unison.
I blinked.
"Here." Nemed offered me a steaming bowl. I drank. The mushroom tea was acrid and bitter on my tongue. It warmed my empty belly, but it made me feel a little sick, too. Camlan and Breidh helped me to my feet.
"This way."
I let them guide me to the far end of the cavern. There, the open