The Pillars Of The World

eyes, almost the same height. But Morphia’s face was softer, fuller, just as her body was rounder and more blatantly female.
    She looks like who she is , Morag thought. The Sleep Sister, the Lady of Dreams. If I asked, would she grant me a gentle night’s sleep ?
    “Well met, Morphia,” Morag said.
    Her eyes twinkling, Morphia wrinkled her nose. “You need a bath.”
    “That isn’t all I need,” Morag said wearily.
    The twinkle in Morphia’s eyes disappeared so fast it might never have been there. She glanced around. “
    Morag, you’re Fae and, therefore, welcome. But, lately, everyone who has visited here has brought nothing but tales of woe and trouble.”
    “Then I’ll tell no tales since I have no better fare to offer. But then, I never do.”
    “I do not envy you your gift, Morag,” Morphia said quietly. She took her sister’s hand. “Come. We’ll get you settled into a guest room—and into a bath. Then I’ll bring up some plates and we’ll have dinner.
    Cullan will have to do without me for an evening.‘” The twinkle was back in her eyes, somewhat muted but still present.

    “Cullan?” Morag grabbed her saddlebags as she and Morphia passed them. You’re home. This may not be your Clan house or your family, but you’re back in Tir Alainn. Drop the burden for a little while . With effort, she pushed away the uneasiness that wanted to settle its heavy weight on her shoulders and made her voice light and teasing. “So this visit has a purpose? Who is this Cullan?”
    “He’s a Lord of the Woods. Not the Hunter, although he’s finely built as stag or man.” Morphia’s voice was much too casual.
    You bait me, inviting me to laugh. May the Mother bless you, sister.
    “He visited our Clan a few months back, and I decided to repay the visit.”
    “That was kind of you. Or is he really that finely built?”
    “You may judge for yourself. Tomorrow. After you’ve had a bath.”
    Laughing, Morag followed Morphia into the Clan house.
    “Did you sleep well?” Morphia asked the next morning while they strolled through one of the gardens.
    Morag slanted a look at her sister. “You made sure I would.”
    Laughing, Morphia linked her arm with Morag’s. “It was the least I could do for my favorite sister.”
    “Your only sister.”
    “Which is why you’re my favorite.”
    Pleased with each other, they walked in silence for several minutes.
    “Your Cullan seems like a fine man.”
    “Yes, he is,” Morphia said, sounding a little troubled.
    Picking up on the change in mood, Morag continued, “He also seems out of place here, not quite part of his Clan.” She winced the moment the words were out. “I apologize. I had no right to speak of a man I met an hour ago.”
    “But you’re right. You usually are in your judgment of people.”
    “I don’t judge—”
    “You do.” Morphia looked straight ahead. “But it’s not really a judgment the way someone else might use the word. It’s just that you look into a person’s eyes, even when those are already clouded by death, and you can see who they are, what’s inside them. I’ve wondered if that’s why you tend to keep your distance from most people. I’ve wondered if, sometimes, you see too much.”
    Morag said nothing. What was there to say? Morphia was the Sleep Sister, and her gift was welcomed.
    But the Gatherer’s presence usually reminded people of mortality and an ending they didn’t want to greet in the present. Only those who were ready to journey to the Summerland welcomed her. And Morphia was right: sometimes she did see too much of what dwelled beneath the mask of flesh.

    “Cullan is thinking of coming with me when I return to my Clan.”
    “For an extended visit?” Morag asked, wondering if Morphia was thinking about having a child with this lover and wanted him to return with her for that reason.
    Morphia shook her head. “To stay. He’s a Lord of the Woods. He doesn’t feel he has a place here.”
    When Morag frowned, she huffed out a breath in frustration. “Tir Alainn is the Fair Land, beautiful and perfect. But we have no forests. Why don’t we have forests. Morag? Have you ever wondered?”
    “No, I’ve never wondered,” Morag replied softly. “Forests have shadows. Death and Life walk hand in hand there. Forests are beautiful, but they are not perfect. They’re too alive to be perfect.”
    “Everyone else in this Clan has all they need right here,” Morphia said, looking at the