Trapped

the air around us, gathered up his cloak of mists, and we shifted back to birds before flying up to the tower. In our human skin again, we got dressed, I retrieved my pack, and Manannan showed me to a room where I could perform a divination. It was a spare chamber—a guest bedroom—decorated in burgundy and gold. I withdrew my wands from my pack and selected five at random while focusing on my question: Where and when could I best bind Granuaile to the earth? I cast the wands on the floor in front of me and interpreted the pattern they made; diplomatically, in the company of others, I would call the result less than satisfactory. Since I was doing this in private, however, I winced and cursed as I might if someone were to pluck out my short ’n’ curlies with a pair of tweezers.
    I performed several more castings, refining my question and eking out every wee drab of vague meaning from the wands. The depressing conclusion was that there was not going to be any better time or place than at the base of Olympus in the near future. Whatever it was that had disrupted all the tethers to Tír na nÓg in Europe would remain in effect for an unconscionably long time, and every minute wasted now was another minute Granuaile would spend unable to defend herself—at least from anyone stronger or faster than a human. The problem was that she and I were going to start running into plenty of such beings; Brighid’s gag order aside, I knew very well that word was spreading even now: That bloody Druid was still alive.

Chapter 6
    Oddly enough, Manannan’s news about the dark elves relaxed me somewhat. I didn’t have to wonder anymore: Everyone really was out to get me. Still, after we bade our hosts farewell and shouldered our packs once more, with Flidais and Perun tagging along, I felt confident enough to show Granuaile a few highlights of Tír na nÓg before we shifted back to earth.
    » The land of eternal summer is also the land of the dead, but fortunately the dead tend to keep to themselves. «
    » How do you mean? «
    » Well, you know how you can attract senior citizens to certain communities by offering shuffleboard courts and bingo nights? Plop down an IHOP nearby for them to lounge in during the daytime? «
    Granuaile looked lost. » What? «
    » Have you ever been to an IHOP on a weekday morning, when everyone else is at work? «
    » No, « Granuaile admitted.
    » Well, that’s where all the senior citizens go. Or they go to a Village Inn or a Denny’s or whatever. It’s because, once you hit sixty or thereabouts, you don’t ever want to make your own pancakes again. «
    » You’re over sixty, « Granuaile pointed out.
    » And I never make pancakes. I go to IHOP with all the other old people. «
    › It’s true! He only makes omelets and—damn. I keep forgetting she can’t hear me yet. ‹
    » But I don’t want to make my own pancakes now , « Granuaile said. » Does that mean I’ll start wanting to make them when I’m old? «
    » I don’t know. The point I was trying to make is that part of Tír na nÓg is very attractive to dead people. «
    » What’s so attractive about it? «
    » Mostly the lack of living people. They don’t like being reminded that they’re all dead. And there might be a pancake buffet. Twenty-four-hour keno. Concerts featuring Elvis impersonators. That sort of thing. «
    › Do they sing » Suspicious Minds « in the white high-collared jumpsuit? ‹
    Always .
    » You’re making Tír na nÓg sound like Las Vegas, « Granuaile said.
    » Well, it might be. Because what happens in the land of the dead stays in the land of the dead. I simply don’t know and I’m not anxious to find out. Manannan and the Morrigan won’t tell you anything if you ask them either. They won’t even say how they decide who comes here and who goes to Mag Mell or the other Irish planes. It might not be their decision. But the point is, there is plenty of real estate left over for the living. And for the Fae and other curiosities. Check this out. I mean, in a minute. « I gestured to an oak in front of us. » Put your hands here and get ready to go. «
    » How do you know where you’re going? « Granuaile asked.
    » Can’t really explain until you’re bound and you can see things in the magical spectrum, « I said. » But, basically, every destination has its own unique sequence of knots. Think of it like airport codes back on earth. «
    » Do I have to memorize them all? «
    » Not unless you want