Media Interview with…

It was quite a coup to find that the Eirish Traveller, Adelina, agreed to speak with me in the studio today. Rumours abound about her life and she has the reputation for being incredibly secretive. Ladies and gentlemen,  in order to celebrate the launch of The Stumpwork Robe please welcome Adelina.

*She stepped down the stair and onto the sound-stage, her clothes the colour of coffee and amethysts. She had embroideries all around her skirt and it was all I could do to look away from the enchantment of the hems. I had to remind myself  I was an interviewer and not a voyeur!*

PB: Adelina, welcome to Mesmered. It’s a pleasure to have you with us. *She is a particularly attractive woman. Voluptuous, skin like satin and her hair is breathtaking. It falls down her back in cascades of molten copper and bronze. I have never seen anything like it.*

A: Thank you. It’s … an interesting experience. Of course, the word ‘Mesmered’ inflicts the highest level of tension on me.

PB: Could you explain what a Mesmer is?

A: *She smiles but the smile is contained, as if there might be pain somewhere. Stoic.* A Mesmer, huh! It’s a tool, sometimes the most insidious weapon. It’s an enchanted act, a spell, a charm used by an Other. Depending on the inherent character of the person Mesmering, it can be used for good or ill.

PB: Let’s talk about that then. Your experience of Mesmers runs quite deep doesn’t it?

A: Indeed.

PB: And?

A: *Adelina leans forward, her soft organza shirt gaping slightly. If there are men watching, I dare say she charms them.  She smoothes her skirts and as her hands slide over the crisp taffeta, there is a hissing sound.* The first time I remember a Mesmer … *She stopped, her eyes gazing over my shoulder, far away. * The first time I remember a Mesmer, I was emotionally wrought. I had lost a dear friend and was as filled with anger and grief as it is possible to be without going mad. Hands ran up and down my arms, and there was the oddest sensation, like honey being poured into my veins, the angst and emotions easing. But there are other Mesmers. For example, my… my husband found a young girl. She had a partial Mesmer placed upon her. She was frozen from the waist down by the side of the Marshes and at the mercy of whatever water wight should come her way. My husband, who is of the Faeran, took pity on her and freed her with his own Mesmer.

PB: But you have seen many other occasions of Mesmer?

A: *sighing* Indeed. A Mesmer where a dagger was made to fly through the air so slowly I could keep pace. It flew to a partially Mesmered man, a murderer, and proceeded to push into his chest. Another Mesmer stopped it.

PB: It is a dangerous world in which you live.

A: It is. Anywhere there are Others is always dangerous and everyone knows that Others lace through the Eirish world like ribbon through the back of a corset. Tightening or loosening the hold whenever they so like.

PB: You must live in a permanent state of tension.

A: I did, yes.

PB: And now?

A: *She sat as still as a statue, her gaze paring away at my skin as if daring me to pry into her life and beware the consequences. It is calmer. But I would never expect it to remain so. In Eirie that would be impossible. But with … my husband … I am as content as it is possible to be.

PB: Will you tell us about your husband?

A: No.

PB: Such an unequivocal answer. Is there a reason?

A: *She twists her body away slightly, a dismissive gesture. I can sense a drawbridge being raised against incomers* Well most assuredly privacy. Why do you think my life should be an open book for all to see?

PB: *I am sweating as I answer* Because your life has the dimension of a ballad and will make a fascinating and emotive read.

A: *She laughs throwing her head back, the hair on fire under the gleam of studio lights.* La, you make me seem like some sort of heroine.

PB: Well…

A: We shall see … *She leans forward and touches my hand in the softest way* I have enjoyed speaking with you.

PB: Thank you Adelina, for your time. We wish you good fortune.

*She smiles enigmatically as she stands, her garments whispering as they fall about her. She glides from the studio and I’m left feeling curiously odd. Disappointed. As if I have lost the opportunity of a lifetime to reveal the most compelling story.*

(To read Adelina’s story in e-book format, go to: or if you are a UK resident: