The Light-Bearer's Daughter (8 page)

The old lady didn’t answer the question but clutched Dana’s hands.

“You must come, my child! You must come to the mountains! I will meet you there.”

Then she scurried away with surprising speed out of the restaurant.

Flushed with excitement, Dana returned to her table. The sign she had been waiting for!

“Gabe, I need you to take me hiking in the mountains.”

“Since I’ve nothing else to do.”

She knew that face. It wasn’t open to negotiation. But by the time Aradhana brought their dinner, Dana had a plan.

“When’s your next day off?” she asked the young woman.

“Dana—” Gabriel started, but she was too quick for him.

“Didn’t you say you’ve never been to Powerscourt?”

Aradhana nodded. “There are many places I would like to visit, but first must come the business. No time for holidays just yet.”

“But you get a day off,” Dana pointed out, and she turned to her father. “Let’s take her on a picnic, Gabe! To the waterfall. Give you a break from the packing. A little farewell party.”

“Packing? Farewell?” Aradhana’s voice quavered. She avoided looking at Gabriel. “Are you going away, my Irish Barbie?”

“Not that I want to,” Dana said, appreciating the unexpected support. “He’s dragging me off to Canada!”

Aradhana’s face brightened.

“Ah, Canada. It is a wonderful place. Many Indian people live there. I have cousins in Toronto.”

“That’s where we’re going!” Gabriel said, surprised and delighted.

Dana frowned. The two were staring at each other as if they had been rescued.

“Are you emigrating so?” Aradhana asked softly.

Gabriel shook his head. “I’m going home. My parents are Irish, but I was born in Canada and grew up there.”

“You are like me, then. In two places also.”

Dana heard the wistfulness in her voice. It was the same tone Aradhana had used when she spoke of the Indian community in Canada. There wasn’t much of one in Ireland. Was she lonely? Was she homesick? Who else did she have besides her brother and the few men on staff, all older and married? Dana felt a pang of guilt for using the young woman as bait to get into the mountains. But the plan had succeeded. Gabriel was already enthusing about the picnic. As soon as Aradhana named her day off, the date was confirmed.

It was later, when they were eating their dessert of deep-fried bananas drizzled with cream, that Dana spotted the young couple waiting near the takeaway counter. At first glance they looked like any teenaged pair, entangled in each other’s arms. The girl was dressed in the briefest of skirts with a skimpy pink top. Her blond hair was piled on top of her head. She kept laughing as her boyfriend nuzzled her ear. He was tall and lanky, in tight jeans and a black T-shirt. The leaf-brimmed hat was nowhere to be seen, and his red-gold hair fell over his shoulders.

They began to kiss each other languidly, oblivious to everyone around.

“Hey, look at the fairies!” Gabriel exclaimed.

“What?” gasped Dana.

He pointed to the mural behind her. She spun around. It was one of the early scenes in the
Ramayana
, before Sita was kidnapped. Rama walked with his wife in the forest. And there to the left of them, in the leafy undergrowth, were figures Dana had never noticed before. Dark-eyed and blue-skinned, with the faint hint of wings, they watched the two lovers from the shadows.

Gabriel called Aradhana over to ask her about them.

“Oh yes,” she said. “We have fairies in India, with many different names. Some call them
devas
. The artist must have known this. I cannot remember her name, but I think she lives somewhere up in the mountains.”

“I bet she does,” Dana muttered.

She looked over at the counter. The couple were gone.

he tumbled from the sky like a falling star, trailing fiery dust behind her. Old as the world, young and beautiful as the day, she was one of that tribe who herd the shining spheres across the heavens
. Spéirbhean.
Sky-Woman. As she fell to the earth, she clutched her light in her hands
.

When she landed by the bonfire on the mountain she stared around her, dazed. She had journeyed far to reach him, through paths of light and shadow, suffering much upon the way
.

“Are you the King of Evening?” she say’d
.

“If you are the Queen of Night,”
he replied.

“Are you the Morning Lord?” she bade
.

“If you be the Lady of the Day,” he sighed
.

“Will we dance all summer long?”

“We would pass the time in pleasure.”

“Will your love hold true and strong?”

“You would be my treasure.”

Oh how different they were! He was as brown as the amber rivers that flowed through the mountains; as steadfast as the ancient rock. She was as pale and glimmering as the moonlight that played upon the foam of the sea. His eyes were green like the hills in springtime; his hair black as the peat in the deepest bogs. Her eyes were a starry cerulean blue, and her hair flowed around her like living flame
.

She was a daughter of
Slua na h’Aeir.
The Fairy Host of the Air. One of the
Sídhe na Spéire.
The People of the Sky. He was a son of
Na Daoine Uaisle Na Gnoic.
The Gentry of the Hills. One of the
Sídhe Slua na Sliabh.
The Fairy Host of the Mountain
.

There were those of his Court who proclaimed their union doomed to fail, yet he would not hear it. He knew she was more than a dream of love, and the one for whom he had yearned since time began
.

Three gifts did the Mountain King offer to woo his Sky Bride
.

A crystal crown carved in the shape of doves’ wings
.

A pendant of blue light gathered from a mountain lake in the morning
.

A golden ring fashioned in the image of two swans entwined
.

As he knelt before her, he sang the song of his heart
.

Siúil liomsa, a chara dhil, suas fá na hardaín,

Ar thuras na háilleacht’ is an ghileacht amuigh,

Le go ndeánfaimid bogán de chreagán a’ tsléibhe,

Is le páideoga lasfaimid dorchadas oích’.

Rise up, my love, and come along with me
,

On a journey of beauty in nature’s sunlight
,

To smooth every stone as we walk on the hillside

And with rush candles light up the dark of the night
.

Ní laoithe an bhróin a cheolfainnse duitse,

Ná ní caoineadh donóige nó doghrainn daoi,

Ach le silleadh a mhillfinnse méala an chumha

Sa phluais sin go maidin ar shliabh na caillí.

No sighing of sorrow I’d ever sing for you

Nor wild lamentation, or sad foolish song;

With a glance I’d disperse the dark clouds of longing

In the cairn on the mountain, from dusk to dawn
.

And when the Mountain King asked would she consent to marry him and be his wife forevermore, this is the answer the Sky-Woman gave him
.

I do.

owerscourt was an old country estate refurbished by a viscount in the late nineteenth century. The palatial mansion was built around the stone shell of a castle, and the surrounding lands sculpted into gardens and parks. Two miles from the manor house, the demesne ran wild into a lush green valley that was once a deer park. Here fell the highest waterfall in Ireland, like the silver hair of a giantess cascading down a dark-blue rock face. The ridge was steep and unscalable, cloaked in oak, bracken, and heather. Beyond its height was the Wicklow Way, a hiker’s trail that led into the mountains.

At the foot of the waterfall was a deep pool surrounded by great stones like broken plates. From the pool, a stream meandered across the valley floor through a scattering of oak and monkey puzzle trees. Children played in the clearing with Frisbees and footballs, and there were picnic tables, a shop, and a public lavatory as well as a parking lot camouflaged by greenery.

While Gabriel and Aradhana were unloading the car, Dana ran to find a place for their picnic. She had almost reached the waterfall when she spotted a familiar figure. There by the pool stood Murta, staring upward toward the top of the ridge. With a shudder Dana recognized the look on his face, the same rage he had shown when the music sounded in the glen. She was backing away so he wouldn’t see her, but then Gabriel called out to him. Murta’s face shifted into a friendly mask.

Gabriel joined him, introducing Aradhana and waving Dana over.

Murta clutched his cell phone in his hand like a weapon. His eyes swept over the two females. Dana flinched, noting that Aradhana did the same.

“Off duty today?” Gabriel asked him.

“I’m supposed to meet a contact here.” Murta lowered his voice, implying a secret. Gabriel moved closer to hear, but the other two didn’t. “One of
An Taisce
’s people. She can’t be seen to support us.” He shrugged. “Cloak-and-dagger stuff. She must’ve got waylaid. I’d better head back.”

It was obvious he didn’t want to linger.

“I won’t keep you,” Gabriel said quickly. “Tell Big Bob I’ve booked the Enniskerry community center for the concert. The North Wicklow Set-dancers will be part of the lineup.”

Though Gabriel was evidently pleased with his own news, Murta nodded indifferently.

“I’ll give him the message.”

Dana was more than relieved to see him go, and led her father and Aradhana to the spot she had chosen.

“This is a most perfect place,” Aradhana said as they rolled out the blanket and unpacked the picnic. “Listen to the birds singing! It is very beautiful.”

“You can hear the nightjar at dusk on a summer evening,” Gabriel told her.