Heart's Blood

presence.

By suppertime each day I was filthy and exhausted. I sat quietly as the men talked. I noticed there was no longer any mention of the curse, the family history, or the mysterious presences out in the woods. Magnus made sure I ate properly. Olcan brought me gifts—a curiously patterned stone, a handful of freshly picked berries.The interchanges between Rioghan and Eichri remained combative in tone, but it was becoming plain to me that the councillor and the priest were old and devoted friends. To me, they showed unfailing warmth and courtesy. As for Fianchu, he had accepted my presence as a member of the household. When I appeared, he would rise from his corner to greet me, then turn his attention back to his bone.

Each evening, Muirne fetched Anluan’s supper and took it away. His quarters were in the south tower; I had seen a lamp burning there late at night. I wondered if he planned to shun the supper table all summer, until the intrusive stranger had departed. I was somewhat uncomfortable to be the cause of such disruption to the household routine. On the other hand, I was beginning to feel at home here, odd though the place was. At long last there were moments during the day when I forgot Cillian; times during the night when I woke, not to the sweating terror of the familiar nightmare, but to an astonished calm—the realization that I had escaped, that I was no longer in the dark place, that perhaps, finally, I was safe.

From time to time, as I sat in the library working, I had a sense of being watched. At first when this happened I would glance up quickly, sure that the silent Muirne must be in the doorway with her big eyes fixed on me, or that the mercurial chieftain of Whistling Tor had come to check if I had fallen asleep on the job again. But I never saw anyone, and after a little I became almost used to that uncanny sensation that I was not alone. Uncanny: if this place was anything, it was that.The scarecrow was often in the courtyard somewhere, birds perched on its hat and shoulders. It generally favored me with a little bow when I walked by, and I responded with a nervous smile or greeting.When I plucked up the courage to ask Olcan what this being was, exactly, the forest man replied, “Something old and harmless. A bit like me, really.”

My clothing grew dirtier by the day, until I could bear it no longer. I arose very early, planning to find Muirne before I began work. Magnus was already off on his round of chores. I ate my porridge seated alone at the kitchen table, trying not to look into the triangular mirror, which this morning seemed to reflect the chamber at dusk, everything shadowed in purple, gray, deep blue. Whoever had fashioned these artifacts must have possessed exceptional skills. I wondered if it was possible for an ordinary man to teach himself such uncanny craft, or whether the knowledge must somehow be bought. Perhaps they were Nechtan’s own creations.

When I turned to go, Muirne was in the doorway watching me, as if she had known I wanted her.

“Good morning, Muirne,” I said, making myself smile as I rose.“I have a request. I’m wondering if there might be some spare old clothing in the house, something I could alter to fit myself—a gown or two, perhaps a shift. I didn’t expect to be staying in one place all summer and I haven’t brought much with me.”

She eyed me up and down, and for a moment her eyes were Ita’s, assessing my body as unacceptable, the sort of form that was designed to draw attention for all the wrong reasons.

“I realize your old things wouldn’t fit me. But I thought maybe . . .”

“Of course, Caitrin. Come with me.” She turned and was off at a brisk walk, leaving me to scurry along in her wake. I followed her through one deserted chamber after another. Like the hill itself, this house was far bigger than it seemed from the outside.There were so many twists and turns that I completely lost my bearings. Eventually Muirne led me through a massive arched doorway and into a chamber of grand proportions, where natural light spilled down through jagged holes in the roof to pool on the flagstones. Rain had come in through the openings and the place smelled of mold. There was an eerie stillness here; the soft sound of my footsteps seemed an intrusion.

“This way,” Muirne said, and headed directly across the chamber towards another door at the far end. I stepped after her somewhat awkwardly. The floor held various piles of debris: half-burned lengths of wood; rolls of ancient, stained fabric; broken glass. And along the sides of the hall stood . . .mirrors. Many, many mirrors, some covered with cloths, some in full view.They were of varied sizes and shapes, the biggest taller than a tall man, the smallest the size of a lady’s hand.Their gleaming surfaces called to me; I felt the pull of them.

“Muirne . . . ?” I whispered, frozen where I stood.

“What?”When I did not reply, she halted and turned. “Come. It’s this way.”

“The mirrors,” I managed. “I don’t want to . . .”

Muirne’s neat brows went up; her lambent eyes were incredulous.“The mirrors can’t harm you,” she said. “Just don’t look in them.”

I swallowed hard and moved on, trying not to glance to either side. But the mirrors made it difficult. From either side of me came their voices, Look here! Look here!, and try as I might, I could not ignore their pleas.With my skin crawling and my heart beating like a drum, I glanced to the right and into the surface of a tall, thin artifact in a dark metal frame. A figure stared back out at me: myself, yet not myself, for though she wore my clothing and bore the shape of my features and my body, she was white-haired and old, her skin wrinkled with time, her mouth not full-lipped and red like mine but seamed and tired, the flesh of her face fallen onto the bones, so I could see death’s touch on her. She smiled at me, revealing shrunken gums in which a few blackened teeth still maintained precarious hold.

My heart knocking, I walked on. Here to the left, a round mirror, artfully made, on a curious three-legged stand with little iron feet. The surface highly polished metal, perhaps bronze; in it, smoke and fire, and from it a roaring, crackling sound, as if I were looking, not into a reflection, but through a window to a scene of terror and destruction.And amid the flames a woman’s voice crying out: Help! Help me! The words turned into a hideous, wrenching scream, and I knew the fire had taken her. I ran after Muirne, glimpsing here a clutching hand, there a pair of anguished eyes, there a scene of snow falling over pines, there a maelstrom of twisting, tangling monsters.

At the far door I stopped to recover myself, leaning on the frame, eyes clenched shut, chest heaving. I told myself I would not be sick again, not indoors, and not in Muirne’s company. I fought to get my breathing under control.

“I’m sorry,” Muirne said, fishing a handkerchief from her pouch and putting it in my hand.“I did not realize you were so disturbed.” She waited patiently while I mopped my eyes, blew my nose and tried to compose myself. “Would you prefer to leave the clothing until later?”

“No,” I gulped, opening my eyes and squaring my shoulders. “Let’s go on. Muirne, is that the great hall? Was there a fire at some stage?”

“Yes.” She offered no more.

We went on through a maze of passageways, then up a long spiral of narrow stone steps.Without ever going