some areas the skin was fracturing.
'What are you planning to do?' Niamh asked weakly.
Ruth raised a chalice of water and kissed it gently. 'I'm planning on approaching a higher authority.'
'Higher?'
'When I met Ogma in his library, or court, or whatever you want to call it, I asked him if you really were gods. He said, there is always something higher. And now I have the knowledge gifted to me by my owl friend I can see that's true. I have no idea what it really is, but I like to think it has a feminine aspect, like the triple goddess that first led me down this path. Whatever it is, I feel close to it, because it's the source of the Blue Fire. And I, as you pointed out, am the champion of the Blue Fire.'
Niamh nodded thoughtfully. 'It is as I thought. Can you reach that power?'
Ruth's laugh came across as faintly bitter, to mask her inability to answer that question. 'Keep your fingers crossed.'
If she were honest with herself, she would really have preferred leaving the ritual to another day. Every time she utilised the knowledge of the Craft it took a great deal out of her, as if she was pushing herself beyond the limits of endurance, or psychologically beyond what her body had been created to do. But with Niamh's deterioration, there was no chance of delay. She would have to press on and deal with the repercussions later.
Baccharus had found some incense in another part of the house; Ruth burned it in a small brazier next to the divan on which Niamh was lying. Like everything in Otherworld, it had an unexpected potency, filling the room with heady aromas. But it was soothing and aided the concentration that her growing exhaustion made increasingly difficult. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as the fragrant, sweet fumes enveloped her.
She began slow, rhythmic breathing, giving herself up to the shussh-boom of air, matching it with her heartbeat until it filled her consciousness, until she began to drift…
In T'ir n'a n'Og, Ruth could achieve things that would have been impossible at home, but it was still a struggle for her to break through the barrier. After a while, she moved outside time, so that her whole world was only the beat of her heart and the rhythm of her breath and the smell of the incense. Eventually, though, something appeared to crack in her mind, a hairline fracture running through a rock. She exerted pressure and the rift grew wider, and suddenly she was inside the protected area, and just as quickly rushing out, through her head, passing through the chamber where she could see Niamh lying sickly, through the ceiling and the upper rooms of the house and out into the night sky. And still upwards, until the green island lay like an emerald in a sea of ink, and up. And then through the sky itself…
What happened next came back to Ruth only in vague, fleeting impressions later. She knew she had entered some kind of blue, blue world, for the colour haunted her for days after, but of any other detail of the place-if it were a place-there was nothing. She sensed a tremendous presence, a sentience, so big it dwarfed the entire universe; even so, it appeared to recognise her. But the most striking impressions were abstracts: contentment so powerful everything else disappeared; connection; losing all her fears and worries in an instant. She didn't recall uttering a sound, never mind begging for what she required, knew instinctively she didn't have to.
And one other thing: an odd, fractured remembrance of Veitch and Tom, so quick it could easily have been a memory leaking through from another time.
She came out of what felt like a deep slumber with Church's hands on her shoulders, feeling more refreshed than she had done in months. She took his hand and smiled beatifically; whatever he saw in her face appeared to shock him briefly. Then he said, 'I was worried when there was no sound so I took a peek in. I saw you slumped on the floor here, thought something bad had happened. Did I screw up?'
She turned to Niamh who was sitting up, rubbing her arms, looking faintly dazed, yet also slightly transcendent. The blue-black mottling on her arms was fading before their eyes, the strength returning to her limbs with amazing speed.
'You have changed the course of existence, Ruth,' Niamh said with deference. 'The alterations to the fabric spinning off from this point will be startling.'
Through her bliss, Ruth wasn't wholly sure she liked the sound of that.
Back on Wave Sweeper, an account of what Ruth had achieved passed swiftly through the crew and passengers. Ruth and Church barely had time to put their feet on the deck before they were ushered into Manannan's cabin. He stood next to his table, hands clasped behind his back.
'You have achieved a great thing, Brother and Sister of Dragons.' His voice appeared to come from all parts of the room at once. 'The gratitude of the Golden Ones is with you.' He moved around the table, still aloof, barely looking at them, but Church thought there was a surprising warmth somewhere far beneath it all. 'More than gratitude. You prevented another of our kind being stripped from existence. You have helped maintain one of the vital props of the way things are.'
'We see all life as equal,' Ruth said pointedly. 'That's why we helped.'
He nodded thoughtfully, as if, for once, he was actually listening, then fixed a curious gaze on them. 'This is indeed an argument that has raged amongst my own kind. I have never held strong views, allowing my opinions to be swayed by the voices of one side or the other, dependent on who was speaking. Now, I feel, I have made my choice.' He went to a crystal decanter filled with an unusual golden liquid. He poured three glasses and brought one each for Church and Ruth.
'Is it given freely and without obligation?' Church asked.
'Of course. Everything on my ship is given freely and without obligation. That is my way. And it is especially true for Brothers and Sisters of Dragons.'
He raised his glass and drained it in one draught. Church and Ruth followed suit, and were stunned by the immediate effect of whatever the drink was. The aroma was flowers and spices. The instant the drink touched their tastebuds, it created an explosion across all five of their senses, a bizarre synesthaesia, and as it passed down their throat it filled them with a warmth and light as golden as the liquid itself, infusing them with a transcendent feeling of wonder and excitement. Once it settled into their system their vision sparkled around the edges. Objects in the room took on a strange cast, as if the very essence of them was visible. Manannan appeared to be made of light, and when Church and Ruth looked at each other they saw the same illusion-if that was what it was-although the light was of a slightly different shade.
'What is this?' Church asked in awe.
'The drink of gods. The distillation of all there is.'
Church looked at Ruth again; they felt like they could read each other's thoughts; in one moment they could see the connections that bound them, something it often took couples a lifetime to discover. They would have embraced there and then, committed themselves to each other for all time, if Manannan's foreboding presence had not stopped them.
'Fragile Creatures have rarely tasted this liquid,' Manannan continued. 'Some of my kind consider it too rarefied for your tastes, that you are too rough to appreciate it and so should be denied it.' He took the glasses from them and returned them to the table. 'It can make you see like gods.' His voice drifted back to them, disembodied, yet filled with meaning they couldn't discern.
When he came back he took Ruth's hand and pointed to the mark left by Cernunnos. 'My brother, I see, has already come to his decision. Know this, then: you have an ally here too. I will take my stand with the Fragile Creatures.'
'Thank you.' Church made a slight bow. 'And can we count on your arguments to influence the minds of your brothers when we reach our destination?'
'I will do what I can.'
His mood changed abruptly as his attention focused on a number of charts unfurled on his desk, and it was obvious the audience was over. They thanked him, but he was already engrossed in new business.
Outside, they rested against the rail, pleased that the hot, humid microclimate of the island was no longer with them. The anchor had been raised while they were in Manannan's room and they were already speeding out into open water.
'You know what?' Church said curiously. 'I had a feeling there was a lot going on behind that conversation, stuff that wasn't said.'
'It's like he was talking about something important without telling us exactly what it was.'
'Maybe he thought we already knew.'
'These gods don't give anything away unless they have to, even when they're supposedly being friendly.'
