“You won’t be going on without Paul. He is dead, yes. Most likely laid in his grave to the sound of my prayers. But he will walk with you step by step for the rest of your life. You will feel his presence in the air you breathe. In the cry of a gull you will hear his laughter; in the wash of the sea you’ll hear him whispering to you, late at night, telling you a story after the candles are quenched. You will remember his goodness and courage every time you see a man help a comrade. You’ll see his strong features, his humor, his kindness, when one day you have a son of your own.”

If Sibeal cannot shed tears, I surely can. She fishes in the pouch at her waist for a square of linen, reaches up, puts it in my hand.

“He was a stranger to you. But it’s as if you know him.”

“I know you, Ardal. I hear the love in your voice when you speak of him. Your words tell me the kind of man he was.”

We cast the runes together, on a ritual cloth before the fire. I want to sit on the mat opposite Sibeal, but she is afraid she will not be able to get me to my feet and back to bed afterward, so I remain in my chair, shame making my cheeks hot. Tomorrow I will work harder. I will walk further. I will make myself strong again.

Sibeal closes her eyes—such long lashes—and breathes deeply, her back straight, her hands relaxed in her lap. I cannot manage this manner of breathing, not now. My chest hurts when I try; my breath rasps, disturbing Sibeal’s concentration as she sinks deeper into the receptive state of mind required for a divination. I close my eyes instead, summoning up an image of birches in the wind, of standing stones in a circle, of a shimmering lake under a pale dawn sky. I stroke the dog. I attempt to banish from my mind all distracting thoughts. I wait.

When Sibeal is ready she picks up the bag. The rods shift inside, as if knocking gently on the door of understanding, and I open my eyes. She looses the string. Instead of casting the rods onto the cloth, she lifts the bag within my reach. Our hands touch for a moment as, together, we let the rods fall out onto the linen square. Together we examine the pattern before us.