Day 13 of Midwinter, Sunset

Caisleán Saighead, Gorias

Annwn

The opinion of the council, or more accurately, Nemain, was that Brigid remained in Falias, for some reason. Of course, the lack of an immediate way to contact Hightower meant that no one really knew for sure. The Dagda couldn’t sense anything afoul with Brigid’s magical domain. Princess Prophecy didn’t offer up any useful information, and Captain Cloaca remained quiet. Morias, Aengus, and I weren’t buying it.

Eventually, the council meeting had ended, after which Morias led me up into the southernmost tower. Before his death, this had been the library and laboratory of the Gorias Sage, Urias. He had been active during the years I had served High King Bres. He had been a strange, bald man. Fat, like Morias, but not as likable.

As we ascended the spiral staircase, which I would normally have flown up, I could see this area had been maintained. While it didn’t look like the army of cleaners had made it this far after the invasion, it was clear that Brigid and Bres had kept Urias’ room much the same as they had kept mine. Unchanged.

“So… this is your new playground?” I joked.

“Indeed,” Morias replied. “I have not been in a true laboratory since before I took the Stone to Ériu.”

“Planning to move in?”

“Not likely, my dear.” The sage puffed out his breath as we trudged up the stairs. His round face was red with exertion. “Urias was an… eccentric individual. Before the unfortunate events of the last season, I would not have desired to disturb…”

“Ah, who are you kidding?” I interrupted with a snicker. “This has got to be a know-it-all’s wet dream.”

Morias turned and looked at me, his brows raised. I knew it wasn’t because I was wrong, but rather that my sense of humor was always tough on the big guy. That’s part of what made him so fun to needle.

Taking pity on him, I softened my words. “I mean, Urias was the first Prime Sage.”

“That is a term I haven’t thought about in many years,” he said, finally reaching the top of the tower stairs.

Morias had earned the title of Prime Sage when the capital had shifted to Falias. But this particular room was the workspace of the first Prime Sage.

“What exactly are we doing up here anyway? I figured you would want to hoard all of this ‘really interesting chet’ for yourself.”

“Truth be told, my dear, I have already been through a good portion of the books that Urias left out. I have reviewed the various experiments Urias was working on before his death…Consequently, did you know that the reason the cider here in Gorias is so tasty is because the Sage designed a special cultivar of apple with a higher sugar content?”

I was torn between being annoyed by how easily distracted the old man was with fun facts and finding myself truly interested in this particular topic. After all, the cider here in Gorias was my favorite.

“Did Urias invent Cidercrisp apples?”

Morias nodded, clearly delighted at my interest. “He first called them ‘Senias Gold.’” He chuckled, and his obvious enthusiasm made me smile. I wanted to be annoyed, but the sound of Morias’ laugh had usually marked good times… and lightened any bad ones. I knew he was laughing at this particular moment because Urias had chosen to name his winning variety of apples after the Sage of Findrias, Senias.

“Apparently,” Morias said, still chucking, “Senias and Urias had gotten into a wee bit of a competition.”

“And Urias created a better apple than Senias... Yeah, yeah, I get it, you old crazy person.”

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The Sage quieted at my tone. He sighed. “Fine, Fíadan. Have it your way. Down to business.”

He walked through the entryway, carefully stepping between desks filled with papers and bottles of various liquids. I had been in this lab before a handful of times. With a pang, I realized it honestly didn’t look any different than it had when Gorias was the capital and Bres was our king.

I followed Morias as he stepped through the mess of furniture. We entered a section of the lab that was a veritable maze of book stacks—literal towers of books, stacked haphazardly above my head in no observable pattern.

“The reason we are here together, Fí,” Morias began, “is because I discovered that Urias had an obsession that was even sweeter than his cider.”

“I don’t like pretty talk,” I reminded him. “Just what was the baldie working on that has you so worked up?”

“Dualities… and the Síorláidir.” He paused when I wrinkled up my nose at him. I may have exaggerated my confusion a bit. “It occurred to me that the last time anyone discussed a duality, it was in reference to the old gods.”

“So… what…”

“Something is happening in Annwn. It is unseen, and it harkens back to an older time. The coming of two new Síorláidir is no coincidence, my old friend.”

I looked around again at the piles of books. It had to be said. “Did Urias have something against bookshelves?”

“I vaguely remember some of his eccentricities,” Morias said. “His organizational methods were…uncommon. I only recently remembered that he had written copious notes and journals on the subject of the Síorláidir.”

“Is that what these books are about?” I asked, eyeing the towering monuments of old tomes.

“Yes, some of them. None of the Sages or Tuatha are old enough to remember the Greater Gods, other than Danu and Donn. Some of these books and notes refer to a contemporary source that may be able to tell us about these early gods.”

“Contemporary… that means ‘bad art,’ right?”

“What?” Morias just looked at me like the question had awakened him from a bad dream… or maybe my question was the bad dream. He shook his head at my smirk.

“I’m talking about the first Sage, the one that came before the four. The Sage that saw the landing of the Cessairian, Nemedian, and all those in between. The one that survived the afflictions of Éire land. The one who made the four.”

“Made the four?” Though I tended to zone out the longer Morias talked, I found myself paying close attention. I had always been curious about the origins of the sages. “Do you mean… somehow these books were written by this first Sage?” My mind whirled. “And they’ll tell us where the four sages came from?”

He paused. “No.”

I threw up my hands in exasperation. My hand slapped into the side of a nearby stack of books, sending it cascading to the side, where it promptly toppled into another stack of books, sending the second stack flying…and so on, and so on. I was reminded of a long-ago game of dominoes I had played in Lady Strom’s back garden before Aengus had taken up residence there.

When the sound of crashing books died down, I peeked at Morias, expecting him to be angry, but he just shook his head and extended an open book to me. The old, leather-bound book was opened about halfway. The right-hand page showed a crude drawing of a well.

“This single diagram, drawn the day before Urias died,” Morias said, “speaks of a sunken well that leads to the library of Fintan the Wise. The reason I asked you to come is because of your vast experience living here in Emain Ablach.” He pointed to the drawing. “Are you familiar with any sacred sites associated with magical wells around the Gorias coast… and I mean drinking wells, not the great oceans.”

I glanced briefly at the page. “That’s the Drowning Pool,” I said matter-of-factly, finding a tiny thrill of satisfaction as Morias’ eyes went wide. I shrugged. “But your guy Urias was a chet artist. It looks nothing like that. It’s way down under the waves.”

Morias leaned closer, looking as excited as I had ever seen him. “Where, Fí? Where is this Drowning Pool?”

“On the south coast, in the middle of the Sacred Cape.”

“How did you find it?” he asked, his voice filled with wonder. “According to Urias, the well fell beneath the waves when the seas rose in Annwn.”

“And by seas, you mean Wells… when the Wells covered the well.”

He stammered a bit before recovering. “Yes…Yes. Well. Now you see why I didn’t lead with that. It can be a bit confusing.”

“I can take you there if you want,” I offered. “But I don’t exactly have great memories of that place.”

Morias must have seen something in my expression because he didn’t say anything. He was good like that. Despite his long-winded nature, he always knew when to shut up. He waited patiently for me to continue.

“It was during my blue period, okay?” I finally blurted. “Isn’t that what that crazy painter called it? His blue period?”

“Are you saying you painted blue-themed portraits and landscapes?” he asked.

“What?” I said, confused. “No… After Bres was deposed, I was really sad and really angry. I went around Emain Ablach a bit. I killed anything that attacked me. It was my blue period.” I held his eyes, willing him to understand. “But it was also red and black.”

Morias seemed to choose his words carefully. His expression was sad. “I should have been there for you, Fíadan. I’m very sorry.”

I forced myself to shrug and faked a bright smile. “Chet, don’t get all soppy on me, Sage. Anyway… do you want me to take you there?”

He smiled sheepishly. “How do you feel about a little swim?”