The image wavered and changed. I saw the same group of men, dismounted and at ease in a forest clearing, with the horses grazing nearby. While some of the warriors tended a camp fire and others rested under the trees, most stood in a circle watching a wrestling match—Anluan and another young man, half naked and locked in a tight bout, strength against strength. I saw at a glance that the Anluan of the vision had two strong arms, two strong legs, a stance that was straight and even, a perfect balance. He was in every respect a fine example of healthy manhood. For a moment he seemed to look straight out into the subterranean chamber, and I saw that his features were quite regular, with no trace of the odd lopsidedness that afflicted the real Anluan. It was so well balanced a face that it was completely lacking in character.
This was wrong. I should not be spying on the man I cared about most in all the world. I made to turn away, and Muirne put her hand on my shoulder. I started; I had forgotten she was there.There was a powerful, silent message in her touch:
And then, ah, then came the third vision. Pale flesh in graceful rise and fall, dark hair curling down over a body all curves and softness, bright locks spilling across strong male shoulders. Hands stroking, caressing, tender at first, then more urgent as desire mounted fast. A confusion of limbs, a cascade of discarded garments. Lips touching, parting, touching again, clinging, tasting; tongues exploring. A body lifting; another plunging deep. I felt my face flame with heat.That was me in the vision, me naked and exposed, opening myself to him, straining him to me, giving him everything I had with joyous abandonment. The finely made man who tangled and tumbled in intimate embrace with me was Anluan; not the Anluan I knew and loved, the man of sun and shadows, my friend, my companion, whose oddities and troubles had shaped both his form and his character, but the perfect Anluan, the first among warriors, the one who could do all the things a true chieftain should do: ride, fight, lead. Make love to a woman.
The real Anluan drew a deep, ragged breath, then punched forward violently with his good left fist.The mirror shattered into a thousand pieces. There was blood on his hand; he looked at it as if he scarcely knew what it was. In the moment before I turned and fled, I glanced about the chamber and saw that it was indeed familiar. Shelves lined the walls; on them stood dusty paraphernalia: books, scrolls, jars, crucibles, strange instruments whose uses one could only guess at.A clever chimney to vent smoke; a row of pegs for the hanging of garments; a table big enough to hold a person, lying down. A pallet in a corner. I had seen this before. It was Nechtan’s workroom.
I ran. I did not stop until I was almost back at the kitchen door, and even then I only halted because I knew I would faint if I didn’t take time to catch my breath.The hallway spun around me. I forced myself to breathe slowly, leaning on the wall for support.
“The mirror of might-have-been.” Muirne had followed close behind me and now stood opposite, her hands behind her back, her face quite calm. She spoke in an undertone. “One of Nechtan’s cruelest. Anluan sees himself as he would be had the palsy not struck him: a man straight and tall, a handsome man, the kind others follow.The kind who can make his mark in that outside world you think so important, Caitrin. Of course, Anluan can never be such a man. Before you came here, he had accepted that.”
I had to stop myself from grabbing her shoulders and giving her a good shaking. “Why did you show me this? He’d be mortified if he knew we were watching! I only want to help him, Muirne. I care about him. I thought you did, too.”
“Oh, Caitrin. No matter how much I care, I cannot change the way things are, and nor can you. Anluan will never be that fine man in the mirror. He will always have crooked shoulders and a hobbling leg. His right hand cannot hold a quill, let alone a sword. The palsy ruined him. He has nothing to offer a woman like you. Do you understand what I mean? A real woman wants children. She wants to be . . . satisfied. If you want a real man, Caitrin, don’t look here.”
Her careless cruelty was as brutal as a blow. I found words, perhaps not wise ones, but they came from my heart.“I thought you loved him,” I said quietly.“I see now that I was wrong. I pity you, Muirne.You don’t seem to understand what love is.” I turned my back on her and walked away.
I hadn’t wanted to trouble Magnus further, but when I went into the kitchen, my mind still reeling from what had happened, he took one look at me, scooped me up in his arms and carried me back to my bedchamber, muttering that he should never have let me out of his sight.
“You weren’t gone long,” he observed once I was lying down under the covers. “Did you speak to Anluan?”
“No, I couldn’t find him. Magnus, you don’t need to stay. I’ll be fine. I just want to sleep now.” A lie twice over. I was far from fine and I would not sleep. But I did need to be alone so I could try to come to terms with this. How could I so much as look at Anluan now? My newfound knowledge must be painted all over my face. How could I speak to him? The simplest
Magnus gave me a penetrating look, but evidently decided further questioning was not in order. “You can’t be left on your own, lass. It may not be strictly proper, the men of the house tending to you up here, but Muirne’s the only female amongst the inner circle and I don’t think she’d excel at this job. I’ll call Rioghan. I do need to finish what I started in the kitchen.”
A piercing whistle from the doorway brought Rioghan, who seemed quite happy to sit with me now that he had finished briefing his unlikely army. He told me he’d sent the men of the host off to discuss matters amongst themselves. They were to return tomorrow with a preliminary plan for dealing with the frenzy next time around. It all sounded quite practical; oversimple, perhaps, but I did not say so. He was the strategist, after all, and right now I was a tired and sorry mess.
“Since I’m here,” Rioghan drew the stool closer to the bed and settled himself on it, his cloak making a carpet of crimson around him,“we might talk further about your home situation, Caitrin, with these distant relatives who apparently believe themselves entitled to take control of your affairs. I feel that matter needs clarification.”
Why was he raising this now, out of the blue? Ita and Cillian seemed far away, hardly worth considering any longer. My heart was full of Anluan. “I may not have much to contribute,” I said, managing a weak smile.
“All you need do is listen,” Rioghan said.“And perhaps answer a small question or two.”
“All right.”
The ghost girl was at the door, looking out. I wondered if she was expecting Gearrog, who had been kind to her.Where was he?
“Now, Caitrin,” Rioghan said, “I understand you and your sister were your father’s only children, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“The house where you were living was not tied in any way to your father’s employment? It belonged to him
