Caomhnóir - 30

“I can’t, Thom. Not there.”

“Please. I want to see where you grew up. I mean I know it’s not like it was then, but please, for me.”

Keegan stopped packing, turning to look at him. “When I said I can’t I mean I can’t, I may not, it’s not allowed. Hell, even if I decided to break the rules and try, I still couldn’t. Do you know what a Geis is?”

“Not a clue, but I’ve got the feeling it’s not a good thing.”

“It’s a taboo that cannot be violated without paying a serious penalty. All Caomhnóir are under a Geis that forbids us to return to the scene of our death. If we try we find that we’re unable to step foot within the boundaries of the territory of our death, in my case the city of Dún Bhun na Gaillimhe. If we press the issue so to speak, or someone physically forces us to go back, we will be caught there throughout eternity, at the mercy of any who would do us harm, although they could not kill us. That’s how strong the Geis is.”

“Damn,” Thom said softly.

“Yes,” Keegan agreed. “Definitely damned.”

“But why? Why on earth would it matter that you visited the scene of your death, especially centuries after it happened? Ghosts do it all the time, at least according to people who believe in them. In those stories, a ghost is actually stuck where they died until there is some sort of resolution.”

“Like finding out who killed them if that’s what happened. Yes, I know those tales and they’re true, which perhaps is why we’re not allowed back. After all, in some ways I suppose Caomhnóir and Scriostóir could be considered a form of ghost. We’re dead. We’ve been brought back to the land of the living. The only difference is we’re corporal.”

“That makes sense. So if you went back to Galway you would be bound there forever, prey to anyone who wanted to torment you? That would also make you useless to your Rialóir Deiridh and his commanders.”

“Precisely. Ergo Dún Bhun na Gaillimhe is out. Now if you want to visit any other part of Éirinn I’m game. It’s a beautiful country.”

“Then let’s. We can visit Dublin, and Killarney and the Blarney Stone—”

 “We’ve only got a week or so,” Keegan pointed out with a laugh. “Less if you don’t get that fine ass of yours in gear and pack.”

“I’m packing, I’m packing,” Thom replied, chuckling as he tossed everything haphazardly into his bag.