I completed the poem, finishing it with a border of vines. The piece looked pleasing, if unadventurous. My eyes needed a rest. The next piece I planned, a legal document rendered in a common hand, must wait until the afternoon.
A shriek from somewhere in the house; something fell with a crash. I ran out into the passageway and almost bumped into Maraid, who was hastening towards our bedchamber.We reached the doorway together. Inside stood Fianait, linen-pale, with a shattered jug at her feet and water pooling. She was staring at the shelf before her as if it housed a demon. “That mirror,” she gasped. “There are things in it, things moving—”
I had forgotten to put the mirror away. “It’s all right,” I murmured, stepping across the debris to remove the artifact while Maraid went about reassuring the frightened girl.As I picked up the mirror, something dark and shadowy shifted within it: a chamber, the moon through a tall window, a face . . .
“Caitrin?” Maraid’s voice was a murmur. “What is it? What did she see?” And, when the silence drew out, “Caitrin? Are you all right?”
I stood frozen, the mirror clutched in my hands.There was Anluan in his chamber at Whistling Tor, lying on the pallet as still as death. His eyes were closed; his chest showed no rise and fall; his skin was a sickly gray. There was I, my face a mask of anguish, cradling him in my arms. “No,” I breathed, and “No!” I screamed.
“What is it, Caitrin? What can you see? Caitrin, speak to me!”
“He can’t be dead! He can’t be!”
My sister was peering over my shoulder at the polished metal. “Is that Anluan?” she asked. “Oh, God . . .”
Caitrin in the mirror laid her hand against Anluan’s cheek; she bent to kiss his pallid brow. Just for a moment, before the image faded, I saw a figure in the doorway of Anluan’s chamber: a slight, neat person in a demure gown and veil, her lustrous eyes fixed on the grieving woman, the motionless man. Her features showed not a trace of emotion.
“I must go to him,” I said. “Now, straightaway. Something’s terribly wrong, not this, since I was in the vision with him, but something . . . It’s a warning . . . I need to be there, Maraid.” I knew that whether or not Anluan could ever love me as a husband loves his wife, and whether or not I could ever bear his children, I was bound to him as tree is to earth or stars to sky, bound in a love that would transcend all obstacles. I must go. I would go. Nothing in the world was going to stop me.
I left next morning, my sister having prevailed upon me to wait while she arranged a ride with a reputable carter, and to get a good night’s sleep before I started off.We had talked things through after supper, more openly than before. For all my need to be on the road and heading towards Whistling Tor as quickly as possible, I’d felt torn. “I hate leaving you on your own,” I’d said. “It seems too soon.”
“I’ll be fine.” Maraid’s calm manner had reassured me. “I’m hardly on my own, with Fianait and Phadraig in the house, not to speak of Etain. Caitrin, I wasn’t here when you needed me after Father died. I was so desperate to get away, I didn’t think about what it would mean for you. I owe you the opportunity to do this. Don’t feel any guilt about leaving us. But please do send me a message, if you can. I’ll worry about you. Caitrin, I hope Anluan is all right. I hope you get there in time.”
Thank God for my sister’s readiness to accept even the strangest parts of my story, I thought as the cart rumbled along the road towards Stony Ford, where I would change conveyances for the westward part of the journey. I’d given her a full description of my visions in the obsidian mirror, and told her the dark details of the host’s past activities, including Mella’s death. I’d even shown her one or two pages of Anluan’s notebook. She had asked many questions; the curious mixture of folk making up Anluan’s inner circle clearly intrigued her. I wished she could have come with me.
As my various rides took me slowly, oh so painfully slowly, towards Whistling Tor, I considered what might await me there and prayed that I would find Anluan alive and well. The mirror came with me. I looked often into its dimly shining surface, to meet my own worried eyes gazing back. The weather was bleak. We traveled on under lowering skies, down tracks treacherous with mud, across flat lands where the wind whistled keenly, sharp and salty as we neared the western sea.
