Page 235 of A Winding Wave of Magic
“Mother, can you hear us speak when our lips do not move?” I asked in tentative, stilted Old Irish that I knew better from books than from ever speaking it. It wasn’t quite what she was speaking either, but maybe a little bit closer.
She said something else, then took the bundle of smoking herbs from the girl beside her and waved the smoke between us in a motion that I knew well. Saining was a language in and of itself.
When she spoke again, I understood her as if she had used English. “Of course, I can, daughter. I know my children always.”
I blinked in shock. Jonathan’s touch told me he was equally surprised by whatever spell she had just cast. Neither of us had seen anything like it.
“We have been waiting for you,” the woman said. “Come.”
She beckoned to the girl, who placed the pile of skins and clothes at our feet, then backed away with deference, though not without a few curious glances. Jonathan’s touch asked me to wait while he mumbled a quick spell, testing the clothes for any kind of curse or disease, but also cleaning them to his standard.
Now I know how you keep your shirts pressed all the time.
With a roll of his eyes, he handed me a linen overdress the color of grass at the end of summer and a short cape made of soft deerskin lined with rabbit fur. He put on something similar. When we were finished, he took my hand again.
Stay behind me.
“She has nothing to fear from us,Katto Brixta,” said the old woman.
I glanced at him.Did she just call you Brigid’s Cat?
His mouth quirked.I think…I think she knows what I am.To my surprise, he didn’t seem particularly alarmed by the prospect.I think she knows a lot of things.
“Come,” beckoned the woman again, pounding her stick impatiently into the ground. “You must meet the day. There is work to do.”
With another shared glance and a shrug, Jonathan and I stepped off the rock and followed the two women into the passage.
After all, it wasn’t as if we had many other options.
The passage woundthrough the rock, lit only by the flickering torches the older woman and the girl carried. The air grew colder as we dove deeper into the earth, the ground beneath our feet uneven and rough. Jonathan’s hand stayed firmly clasped around mine as we followed our mysterious guides, unsure of where this journey would lead us.
As we walked, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, of unseen eyes tracking our every move. The shadows danced and twisted, whispering secrets that brushed against my skin like icy fingers. Jonathan’s presence was a comforting anchor in this strange and unsettling place.
The tunnel eventually narrowed into smaller tunnels, many of them breaking off into chambers decorated with shrines and offerings. Tombs, obviously. But possibly serving other purposes as well. I kept looking for the ledge where we had originally jumped into the river, or maybe the door through which Caleb Lynch or Senni Perumal might appear.
But there was no sign of any of it. If they were anywhere in the underground complex, it was on another path than this. My touch didn’t reveal their memories or presence anywhere.
We were in a completely different location.
The women took a sharp right, and suddenly the path grew steep as we walked up. Seconds later, we emerged into daylight.
I gulped the fresh air, and tears bit my cheeks. I had honestly thought I’d never taste it again.
We were free.
Beside me, Jonathan was trembling, fighting the urge to shift. The intensity of the night apparently kept the lynx closer to the surface than normal.
Do you need to…I started.
He shook his head.I’m not leaving you now.Look at where we are.
I turned and nearly fell over.
Because I had been here before.
In fact, I had walked this very passage onlydaysbefore, on the outskirts of Brú na Bóinne, in an unknown tomb that was only just beginning to be excavated. Except at that time, the cave had been mostly buried under rock and stone and grass that had hidden it for thousands of years.
This version of the tomb was, well, if not new, then certainly well cared for.
