Page 100 of First Light
“Pan.” Carys sat up straight. “That sounds like Pan to me.”
“The old gods would lay with anything that breathed,” Cadell said. “Pan was the son of Mercury.”
“And Mercury was Hermes,” Carys continued.
“And who was Hermes before?” Cadell asked. “Old. Think very old gods.”
Carys took a deep breath and thought about the pantheons of the ancient world. “Hermes likely came from the Egyptian god Thoth. Thoth probably had another name before that, but I don’t know what it is.”
Duncan shook his head. “I don’t know anything about Thoth. And I’ve never heard Angus mention Hermes or anything like that.”
“The old gods are tied together.” Cadell persisted. “They take new forms as humans change. But they pass along powerful magic to their offspring.”
“And Hermes was the god oflanguage.” Carys looked at Duncan. “The god of interpreters. If Angus’s magic does go back to Hermes, hecouldtranslate Seren’s journals.”
“I agree, Nêrys.”
Carys added, “And he could possibly guide us to the underworld too, but hopefully we won’t need that.”
“Mercury, Hermes, and Thoth may be interpreters,” Duncan said, “butAngusis a crotchety old úruisg who lives in the stream by my forge and only works with me to piss off Robb. So if you think he can help you interpret Seren’s journals, be my guest, but I think you’re reaching.”
“Lives in a stream,” Carys muttered. “And bodies of water are passages to the underworld. Just saying.”
Cadell stared at Carys. “You will interest him. You’re of neither realm and both. A human born in the Brightlands who can speak with magic. If you bring him a gift, Angus may translate the journals into Anglian for you.” He turned to Duncan. “What language does he speak with you? Gaelic or English?”
Duncan frowned. “English. But I know he speaks Gaelic too.”
“And he speaks Cymric to me.” Cadell rose to his feet. “I heard an úruisg complain once that all human language tasted like vinegar save for the language of flowers.”
“The language of flowers?” Carys looked at Duncan. “Is that real here?” Delight fluttered in her chest. She loved studying the language of plants and the botanical connections between mythology and science. “Do magical creatures really use flowers to communicate here?”
“Yes,” Cadell said. “Not dragons or wolves though. Flowers are meaningless to us.”
And yet something about Cadell’s face made Carys doubt he was telling her the whole truth.
“Angusdoeslike flowers,” Duncan said. “When I first moved into the cottage, Auld Mags told me to bring him daffodils on the New Year or he’d be offended.”
“Daffodils symbolize new beginnings,” Carys said. “That would be a good flower to take anytime you’re going to introduce yourself.”
“Auld Mags is a clever bwbach,” Cadell said.
“Bwbach?” Duncan asked.
“It’s the Welsh word for a brownie,” Carys said.
Cadell looked at her. “Your mother was born in Cymru. Did she leave bowls of milk out at night?”
“Kind of?”
Not bowls, but there were mugs of milk left on the wood stove, and Carys had always thought it was her mother’s superstition, but she didn’t question it. Knowing that all of this was real added so many more layers to little things she’d always taken for granted.
“Mugs,” Carys said. “Not bowls, but yes.”
“She honored the bwbach.” Cadell nodded. “Angus will know it. Human, do you have Queen Anne’s Lace, tansy, and bluebells in the garden?”
“Probably,” Duncan said. “Mags grows a bit of everything out there.”
“She’s smarter than you deserve. Magical creatures recognizeflowers before words.” Cadell reached out his hand. “Come. We’ll bring some flowers and milk to Angus and see if he’ll grant us a favor. Human, bring the journals.”