allow words. He gave a nod, then moved away to take his place amongst the host.
On the bottom step close by me a small figure crouched, head down, shoulders hunched, bundle in her hands. Trying to be overlooked; trying to be invisible.
“It’s time, Caitrin,” Anluan said, glancing at the child, then at me.
I sat down on the step beside her and put an arm around her shoulders. It was like plunging my arm into ice water. “Sweetheart,” I murmured, “you have to go now. You need to step into the circle with the others. Time to say goodbye.”
Frost-white face turned up towards mine; shadowy eyes fixed on me. “Go where?” she asked.
“Somewhere good,” I told her, feeling like a liar and a traitor. “You might see your mama again, maybe.”
“I want to stay with you,” the ghost child said, her little voice clear and true. “You can be my mama.”
A spear straight to the heart. I could not find an answer, for none was right.
“Come, little one.”The wise woman reached out a hand.“Step over to me. Take care not to set your feet on the sand; lift them up high, as if you were dancing.”
The child did not look at me again. She walked across, stepping neatly, carrying my mother’s embroidered kerchief and the last fragments of Roise, token of my sister’s love. She stood beside the wise woman, between two points of the star. Her eyes stared into nowhere.
“We’re ready to begin,”Anluan said quietly. Magnus stood on his left. I wiped my eyes on my sleeve, then took up my position on his right. Olcan was by the brazier. “I will call her.”
But there was no need to call. From the archway to Irial’s garden Muirne stepped forth.The neat concealing gown and veil were gone. She wore an ancient garment that had once been white, a high-waisted gown with an embroidered hem. Its skirt wafted around her as she approached. Her hair was loose, a shimmering waterfall. A little wreath of greenery crowned her head. Her eyes shone in the moonlight. “I’m here, my lord,” she said.
My skin prickled. Aislinn come of her own accord to help us? Aislinn already clad in her ritual garments, calm and willing? We had been certain Anluan would need to summon her, and that she would have to be forced to play her part. We had anticipated reluctance, fury, perhaps fear. Not this.
“There is much I could say to you, Muirne,” Anluan said, keeping his tone level; no trace in it of the bitter fury I knew he bore towards her for the deaths of his beloved parents, the attempt on my life, the long years of suffering.“But I will say only this. For the wrong my great-grandfather did you, I am sorry. For the wrong you have done to me and my people, God will judge you.”
She watched him calmly, not a flicker of emotion on her face.
“Tonight is All Hallows,” Anluan said.“One hundred years have passed since you cursed the family at Whistling Tor, and it is time for the doom you set upon us to be lifted.”
“You are no Nechtan,” Aislinn said. “Try, by all means. Try and fail. You’re so good at that.”
Anluan took a deep breath, held it a moment, released it slowly. “Take your place in the center, Muirne. Regrettably, it seems we need your assistance.”
“It seems so,” she said, and turned to walk across, lifting up her skirt so it would not brush the ritual markings out of place.The folk of the host shrank back as she passed, and someone hissed. In the very center of the pentagram, Aislinn halted and stood facing us, hands clasped demurely in front of her. “I’m ready,” she said calmly.“Attempt your little spell by all means.”
Anluan fixed her with his gaze. “You will be silent,” he said, and she was.The faint smile that played on her lips troubled me; it was as mocking as her words. If she was prepared to stand there, in the very spot where she had suffered betrayal and death, she must be quite certain we would fail.
Olcan had strewn the ritual herbs on the brazier, and the air was filling with their scent, pungent, compelling, startling the mind to wakefulness. Anluan commenced his slow progress around the circle, pausing at the quarters. I knew from the grimoires that for a spell of banishment the circle must be cast the other way, so he walked contrary to the sun’s path, and the form of words we had chosen was different, too.
“Mystical spirit of water, we honor you!”Anluan moved past the ghost child, who stood beside the wise woman in the west of the circle. The little girl had bowed her head and was staring at the ground. “Purifying spirit of fire, we honor you!” He passed the warriors, who stood tall in pride at today’s achievement. “Life-giving spirit of air, we honor you!” He walked by the monks, who knelt with hands together in prayer. Several ghostly women were supporting one another with joined hands or arms linked; their eyes followed his progress.“Nurturing spirit of earth, we honor you!”
Anluan had completed the circle and now began to pace out the lines of the pentagram, walking with care so the sand was not disturbed. In keeping with Nechtan’s ritual nobody stood within the points of the star, but all huddled in the spaces between, save Aislinn, alone in the very center, looking like a winter princess from an old tale, all white and gold.
Anluan’s slow walk was done. He turned at the final point, standing where the lines joined in the north; he lifted his arms and spread them wide. “Divine essence of the soul, source of all goodness and wisdom, we honor you!”
He paused, drawing a deep breath. It was time for the counterspell. His voice rang out anew, deep and compelling.
A shiver went through the people of the host, a shadow of memory. The words held power.They hung in the air, conjuring the unknown.
He waited a little, and the air grew colder around us. He spoke the words of banishment again. I sensed a darkening, though no cloud had covered the full moon. As Anluan opened his mouth to speak the words a third time, it seemed to me that something was pulling towards the circle, as if it would draw us all into that world beyond death. My jaw was tight; my heart hammered.
Silence. Nothing stirred. Nothing changed, though the bone-deep chill remained over us all. Then Aislinn’s laugh
