a cross in the void // christopher lightwood {4}

two // we will always return

The first thing that struck Cordelia about Taigh Liath was the cold. December in London had already been chilly, damp, and miserable. Here it was sharply freezing, her breath clinging in crystals to the fog-filled air. She shuddered in her coat and wrapped her arms closer about herself.

The Portal had dropped her out on the deep stone alcove of a pair of massive wooden double doors. Stairs lead down to the grass beyond, stretching toward the gates at the property's entrance. She could read backward well enough to pick out the motto worked on the gates. She didn't know Gàidhlig but Pluto had told her what it meant once: We will always return. No ruined Chiswick nor stately Cirenworth this, the massive pine trees lining the grassy driveway gave it the feeling of some long-lost alternate earth sleeping far away from reality like a king beneath a mountain.

"Welcome to Taigh Liath," Seanan said grimly, and pushed open the massive front doors. They creaked on their hinges, revealing a circular stone foyer beyond with staircases ringing the sides of the far wall, leading up to a crenelated second-floor mezzanine. It seemed the Medieval theme continued on in the building's interior. Cordelia found herself waiting for Merlin or Morgana to appear on the second-floor landing.

"You do not like this place," she said, noting the tone of Seanan's voice, the set of her shoulders.

"Hate it," Seanan answered.

"Why? It seems like something straight out of a legend."

"It is. It's also cold, damp, dimly lit, echoey, isolated—oh, yes, and in the right weather it turns into a perfect aeolian harp." Seanan marched into the foyer and turned, waiting for Cordelia and Gloria.

"Pluto was born here," Gloria said quietly, "weren't they?"

"And a Lochlyn is her homeland," Seanan answered, "so as far as I'm concerned, Pluto can have the place if they want it." Seanan frowned up at the second floor. "Glory, we'll stay on the first floor, so you can get around. This place isn't exactly wheelchair accessible. Cordelia, I'll find somewhere for you upstairs, where it's a bit less damp and cold."

Cordelia nodded, smiled. "Thank you."

"Come on." Seanan started for the stairs. "This place is never occupied for long enough for it to be worth keeping staff, so we'll have to fend for ourselves."

"Well, I may not be able to do much right now," said Cordelia, "but between my mother and Risa I did learn how to cook, and I doubt that Lilith will appear over my shoulder for picking up a soup ladle."

Seanan chuckled. "You might just be able to bring some light into this dark house after all. Raziel knows the place needs it."

Seanan led Cordelia up to a second floor hallway and showed her into a small room with a four-poster canopy bed currently using spare quilts for curtains and a copper-paned window with a view out onto what appeared to be a courtyard.

"I hope this is alright," she said. "I couldn't find real curtains and you'll want something when the temperature goes down for the night."

Cordelia made a face.

"I'd say you get used to it," said Seanan, "but you really don't. I'll let you be for now so I can go and figure out where Gloria and I are going to stay. If you'd like a tour, come downstairs and let me know. I'm not the best guide but I'll be able to at least tell you where the kitchens and the training rooms are."

Cordelia nodded, smiling weakly. The training rooms. Oh, how she yearned to find them out, to lift a blade and dance with it and let the exertion of practice carry her away. But no. She couldn't risk bringing Lilith here. As Seanan closed the door, Cordelia turned to the window. Curious, she peered out. It did indeed face into a courtyard with a garden, untended and winter-dead. Would they plant it in the spring, she wondered? What would they fill it with? Would there be any of the plants her mother grew, ages ago at Cirenworth?