Nothing Good Gets Away by Meredith R. Stoddard

Author:Meredith R. Stoddard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Meredith R. Stoddard
Published: 2021-04-19T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Sarah had told Dermot that she was exhausted, but as soon as her head hit the pillow, her mind spun out with seemingly never-ending questions about the vote, the ceremony, and what the results meant for all of them. The ritual she had proposed had only generated more questions, and now she found herself at the mercy of a cabal of people she barely knew. She had no way of knowing if any of The Nine might change their votes, or what the Stuarts might do if the vote didn’t go their way. There were too many variables.

She did have a way to identify some possible swing votes. Unlike the others, she had the ability to see what they were doing. It wouldn’t tell her the outcome in the morning, but she might be able to see some of their intentions by spying on them tonight. The trick in this case would be getting herself to relax enough to cast out. She thought about what Green had said at the ceremony that morning. She wasn’t projecting herself but sending her co-walker out to show her what others were doing.

Sarah laid flat on her back and folded her hands on her stomach. She began the breathing exercises that were starting to become familiar. Every exhale was another wave of relaxation, another deepening of the state that allowed her to see what her co-walker saw. When she felt weightless, she focused her attention on Dermot.

He was in the conservatory with Green talking about Green’s activities during the war. That seemed odd, but she trusted that Dermot would explain later. So, she moved on to the voting members of The Nine. With a deep breath she saw the MacLeod’s. Sheila was helping Eilidh into bed while the old woman complained about having to go traipsing all over the hills with her scarred feet for a ceremony that solved nothing. Sheila admirably tolerated her complaints, even when Eilidh’s sharp tongue was directed her way. Sarah didn’t know how she had the patience for it. Once she got her mother into bed, Sheila went to her own room deep in thought. Sarah felt sure that neither of them was about to change their vote. Nor would Ruaraidh, her steadfast defender. He was exercising furiously in his room, no doubt restless after spending so much of the day locked in the library.

Isobel sat in her room quietly singing to herself. Sarah paused to listen. She sang “The River Maiden”. Sarah wondered if that helped Isobel understand the situation better. Maybe there was an answer to be found in the song that none of them had seen yet. She listened as the old woman sang and remembered the first time she had heard Isobel sing the song in the woman’s little cottage in Cape Breton. She’d learned from Isobel, the same way that she’d learned it from her grandmother, knee to knee, the old way. The way that her people had been transmitting the song for generations.

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