"I didn't say that."
She marched away, regretting that Church would see it as some argumenta tive point-scoring ploy, but she only did it to save herself from saying anything further that would damn her. She was supposed to be smart, educated, and emotions had made her a moron in seconds.
She had planned to walk out of the room to get some calming night air, but to do that she had to go past Niamh's divan; the goddess motioned to her to come over. Reluctantly she perched on the end.
"I want to thank you for trying to help me, Ruth. I know my kind appear aloof to Fragile Creatures. But I hope you will accept I am very grateful."
"Don't worry. I would have done it for anyone."
"And that is why you are honourable and good. One of the best of your race."
"No, I'm not. I'm typical, not good or bad, not stupid or smart. Just… just human."
"You do yourself a disservice." Niamh waved this part of the conversation away with a gesture and began, "I know you are concerned about Church and me-
Ruth stood up sharply and made to go.
"Please hear me out."
"I don't want to talk about that."
"Please-"
"I'm not used to having my emotions in this much upheaval." I've never been in love before, she could have said. "I don't want to say anything I might regret."
Niamh continued to plead silently until Ruth felt she couldn't walk away. She sat down heavily and stared into the middle distance. "I hold nothing against you, Ruth, for your feelings for Jack. I can understand them completely. He has a good, good heart."
Ruth listened, but didn't respond.
"We are not rivals, Ruth. We are not fighting. There is nothing we can do. Jack will decide the direction of his own heart. The tragedy is that only one of us can benefit. That should cause sadness for both of us, not anger or jealousy."
"When someone has a relationship, however new," Ruth began, "it's not considered very decent to try to break it up."
"You do not know the whole story, Ruth."
"Then tell me." Ruth's eyes flashed; she was sick of being patronised by the gods.
Niamh chose her words carefully, which made Ruth instantly suspicious; there was something the goddess was trying to hide. "You think my emotional response to Jack is some fleeting thing. After all, we have seen each other little, spoken to each other less. But that is simply your perception." Ruth flinched visibly; Niamh noticed and caught herself. "You should know by now, Ruth, that there is more than one way of seeing existence, and the way of the Fragile Creatures is the least apt. My love for Jack is not new and ill formed."
"I know you watched his development from when he was a child without interacting with him, but if you'll forgive me for being so forward," she said tartly, "that's both a little sick and a little pathetic. Love from afar, without any interaction, is worthless."
Niamh's face remained calm, despite the sharpness of Ruth's words. "I have loved Jack for longer than that, Ruth."
Ruth snorted derisively. "How can that be?"
Niamh ignored her. "My feelings grew stronger as I understood his true nobility. He has a good heart. He is confused, directionless, has little confidence in his own abilities, but at his core he is good."
Listening to Niamh, something struck Ruth sharply. "Sometimes you don't even sound like your own kind. You sound like one of us."
Niamh smiled, a little sadly. "I have had a good tutor."
Ruth watched her carefully, but Niamh wasn't giving anything away.
"Ruth, I will speak honestly to you. This is a vital time for my relationship with Jack." Ruth wanted to yelclass="underline" You have no relationship! "If I cannot convince Jack to love me before the festival you know as Samhain then my love will never be returned. Therein lies my desperation, and my tragedy. Such a small window to convince a Fragile Creature to match the feelings of a god. If I lost Jack now it would be forever."
Niamh had grown oddly introspective; the gods never usually appeared to have any real inner life. "There will be no peace for him, Ruth," she said quietly. "That is not the path that existence has mapped out for him. Jack will have a life of struggle and strife, but that only makes love and comfort so much more valuable to him. He will have to seize it where he can, and cherish it, for it will be transitory."
"What path is mapped out for him?"
"The same path all you Brothers and Sisters of Dragons must walk. You have been chosen to be champions of the vitality that runs through everything. That is a responsibility that dwarfs all. You must suffer for the sake of everyone else, everything else."
"Well, isn't that wonderful," Ruth said sourly, trying to ignore the panic flaring inside her.
"But is that not always the way? A few must redeem the many. If those with ability do not act, the darkness will win. There are few rules of existence open even to we Golden Ones, but that is one of them."
"Yes, but why me? Why us?"
"Simply? Because you have what it takes." A wave of exhaustion crossed Niamh's face; the disease was starting to bite.
"Take it easy," Ruth said. "The guard will be back with the supplies any minute and then we can get to work."
Niamh smiled and took Ruth's wrist with her long, cool fingers. "You have a good heart too."
Once Ruth had the flowers and herbs she administered them to Niamh, although she had no idea how they would work on her constitution. The ones that worked magically appeared more effective than the simple medicinal ones, but it was still only a stopgap measure. She had Niamh moved into a chamber where the lights could be darkened until only one candle flame cast a dim light across the proceedings. The others were driven from the room so the atmosphere was calm and reflective.
The mottled blue rings had spread across the right side of Niamh's body and in places had grown black. In 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…