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“When you were spreading the cards, you always had a pre-conceived idea of what would happen. You never let the cards tell their own story; you were trying to make them confirm what you imagined you knew.

“I realized this when we started talking on the phone. I realized, too, that it was a sign and that the phone was my ally. So I launched into a very boring conversation and asked you to look at the cards. You went into the trance provoked by the phone, and the cards led you into their magical world.”

Wicca suggested that the next time Brida was with someone who was talking on the phone, she should take a good look at their eyes. She would be surprised by what she saw.

“I want to ask something else,” said Brida over tea in Wicca’s surprisingly modern and practical kitchen.

“I want to know why you didn’t let me abandon the path.”

“Because,” thought Wicca, “I want to find out what the Magus saw in you, apart, I mean, from your Gift.” What she said was:

“Because you have a Gift.”

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“How do you know?”

“Easy. By your ears.”

“By my ears! How disappointing!” Brida thought to herself.

“And there was me thinking she could see my aura.”

“Everyone has a Gift, but some are born with a more highly developed Gift than others—me, for example—who have to struggle really hard to develop their Gift. People who were born with a Gift have very small, attached earlobes.”

Instinctively, Brida touched her earlobes. It was true.

“Do you have a car?”

No, Brida said, she didn’t.

“Then prepare to spend a fortune on taxi fares,” said Wicca, getting up. “It’s time to take our next step.”

“Things are suddenly moving very fast,” thought Brida as she got to her feet. Life was beginning to resemble the clouds she had seen in her trance.

By around midafternoon they had reached some mountains about fifteen miles south of Dublin. “We could have made the same trip by bus,” Brida grumbled to herself while she paid the taxi. Wicca had brought with her a bag and some clothes.

“If you like, I can wait,” said the driver. “It’s going to be pretty difficult finding another taxi in these parts. This is the middle of nowhere.”

b r i d a

45

“Don’t worry,” said Wicca, to Brida’s relief. “We always get what we want.”

The driver gave them a strange look and drove off. They were standing before a grove of trees that extended as far as the foot of the nearest mountain.

“Ask permission to enter,” said Wicca. “The spirits of the forests always appreciate good manners.”

Brida asked permission. The wood, which had, up until then, been just an ordinary wood, seemed suddenly to come to life.

“Stay on the bridge between the visible and the invisible,” said Wicca while they walked among the trees. “Everything in the Universe has life, and you must always try to stay in contact with that life. It understands your language. And the world will begin to take on a different meaning for you.”

Brida was surprised at Wicca’s agility. Her feet seemed to levi-tate above the ground, making almost no noise.

They reached a clearing, near a huge stone. While she tried to think how that stone could have got there, Brida noticed the ashes from a fire right in the middle of the open space.

It was a beautiful place. It would still be some hours before evening, and the sun shone with the warm gold of summer afternoons. Birds were singing, and a light breeze rustled in the leaves.

They were quite high up, and she could look across and down at the horizon.

Wicca took a kind of cloak out of her bag and put it on over her clothes. Then she placed the bag near the trees, so that it couldn’t be seen from the clearing.

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“Sit down,” she said.

Wicca was somehow different. Brida couldn’t decide whether it was the cloak or the profound respect that the place inspired in her.

“First of all, I must explain what I’m going to do. I’m going to find out how the Gift manifests itself in you. I can only begin to teach you once I know something about your Gift.”

Wicca asked Brida to try and relax, to surrender herself to the beauty of the place, just as she had when she had surrendered to the tarot cards.

“At some point in one of your past lives, you set out along the road of magic. I know this from the tarot visions that you described.”

Are sens

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