Moon Song by Elen Sentier

Author:Elen Sentier [Sentier, Elen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-78279-806-4
Publisher: John Hunt Publishing
Published: 2015-02-26T16:00:00+00:00

Finding the Songs

Isoldé brought lunch with her this time. And Embar. The black cat was very much at home in the cottage. He sniffed around at first and bottled once or twice – Isoldé thought it was where Gideon had been – then found himself what was obviously a catniche on one of Tristan’s old cardigans on the chaise longue and curled up to watch her over his tail. The cardigan was covered in a felt of black fur, Embar must have been using it for years. She’d been a bit worried when he’d first insisted on coming up to the cottage with her, would it be too far for him? He’d soon disabused her mind of all that, bounding up the path, turning at corners to give an imperious yowl telling her to hurry up. When they got to the cottage he’d gone straight in through the cat-flap. She’d never even noticed there was one on her first visit. He was obviously well at home. A look through the cupboards in the kitchen had brought to light three elderly, but still good, unopened tins of cat food, it looked like he had regularly accompanied Tristan when he came up here.

Mark, however, had not wanted to come. He was delighted she’d found the manuscripts, all his crotchetiness of the previous morning gone. He had been to the cottage occasionally, as a child, exploring the woods and the kieve, but Tristan had soon made it clear the cottage was private, people came there only by invitation and that included Mark. He’d been up once since Tristan’s death but had found the experience so emotional and freaky he’d quickly left, thinking to come back later, when time had put some cushioning between himself and his loss. Somehow, the time had never been right and now Isoldé had found it for herself. He was content with Gideon’s prohibition. ‘You go on,’ he said. ‘It’s what they want you to do.’

So here she was, with a thermos of coffee, an avocado sandwich and an apple. And a massive curiosity.

Looking at the place, it really was a mess. At first glance, there seemed no rhyme nor reason to any of the piles of paper, however, Isoldé was sure there was a system to it somehow. The stories of Tristan from Mark and Mrs P told her he was methodical and organised even if it didn’t look so.

‘The “heap” system!’ Isoldé chuckled to herself, using the old computer phrase. There really was such a system but she was sure Tristan hadn’t known about it, he just worked in heaps.

Against the side wall was a long, elegant ash dining table. Something struck Isoldé then, most of the furniture, the good stuff anyway, was ash. Brow furrowed, she stirred her brain, “Nuin”, that was the ogham name for the ash tree and it was the tree sacred to Gwydion, the master magician of all Britain. And that, for the gods’ sake, was Gideon wasn’t it? Ha! So this whole place was tied up with him, with the trickster, the shifter.

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