by Diane Duane
Wizards do not tell white lies to make people feel better. Mrs Smyth said nothing.
"Well, if I'm here for that purpose," Nita said, "I'm here because the Powers that Be sent me. If I'm a trigger, it's Their finger that's on it, not the Lone One's. The Lone One can't move wizards… you know that."
"No, I do know that," Mrs Smyth said. "There have been changes in the Lone One recently, and you had something to do with those."
"Something," Nita said.
Ronan looked at her, and then back at Mrs Smyth. "Her?"
"She was involved just now in the Song of the Twelve," Mrs Smyth said. Ronan looked wide-eyed. "She was also involved in. . .Well, never mind. It's a distinguished start: if you and your partner survive, of course. Wizardly talent is usually tested to destruction. Your sister," Mrs Smyth said, "where is she now? Did she come with you?"
"No, she's back in New York."
"Pity," Mrs Smyth said. "At any rate, I advise you to keep your use of wizardry to the minimum needed. Ronan, you'll want to speak to your friends among the locals, especially the young ones. If anyone finds themselves going sideways, tell them not to meddle."
"What kind of re-enactment were you thinking of doing?" Nita said.
"Well, my dear," Mrs Smyth said. "We have a problem. If there's a re-enactment of Moytura to be done, we don't have anything to do it with, even though one or two of the Treasures still exist."
“Then how do you mean you don't have anything to do it with?"
"Nita," Mrs Smyth said, "it took one of the Powers that Be a very long time to invest those four objects with strength enough to function against the Lone Power in the form It took. The legend says that anything that the Lone One in Balor's form beheld with his eye open, burst straightway into fire and fell as ash, and poisoned the ground for leagues around, so that nothing would grow there, and men who walked that ground died."
"Sounds like something nuclear," Nita said.
"So it might have been," Mrs Smyth said. "The Lone One has never minded using natural phenomena for Its own ends. But Its power was so terrible that only an army of all the wizards in Ireland - for that's what the druids were - could even think about going up against him; and without the Treasures to protect them, they all would have been destroyed. The Cup, known as the Cauldron of Rebirth, raised up their fallen, and the Sword, Fragarach the Answerer, held off Balor's creatures, and the Stone of Destiny kept the ground of Ireland whole and rooted when Balor would have dragged it off its foundations and overturned the whole island into the deep. All their power together, and all the wizards', was just enough to buy the time for the Spear of Lugh to pierce Balor's fire and quench it at last."
She took a sip of her tea. "Now, three of the four Treasures we still have - at least one of them is in the National Museum in Dublin. But they have no virtue any more. No-one believes that the gold and silver cup they have here, the Ardagh Chalice, is the Well of Transformations, the Bottomless Cauldron. No-one really believes that the notched bronze thing in the glass case is Fragarach, even though the legends say so. Its virtue has long since ebbed away as a result: the 'soul' in it, if you like, has departed. And the Stone of Destiny, the Lia Fail, is now just a cracked stone half buried in the ground somewhere up North, with an iron picket fence around it, and tourists come and take its picture because it's supposed to be Saint Patrick's gravestone or some such. Not because of what it really is, or was." Her smile was very rueful. “The thousands of years and the loss of true knowledge of the nature of the Protectors have taken them and made them just a cup, just a sword, and a rock."
"What about the Spear?"
"Its "soul" was the strongest of all of the Treasures," Mrs Smyth said. "It should be the easiest to find… but it's nowhere in the world that we can feel. No, what we're going to do - if a re-enactment. . ." She sighed. "I can't say. We're going to have to work something out from scratch. In the meantime, if I were you, I would step lightly. And thank you for coming to me. Where are you staying?"
"With my aunt, Anne Callahan, at Ballyvolan."
"Right," said Mrs Smyth, and made a note. "Now then; another cup of tea?"
Nita groaned.
They went down to the little tea shop in Enniskerry, and had a Coke to kill the time until the number forty-five bus was ready to leave. "She's not much like the Seniors at home," Nita said, thoughtful, "except she's as tough."
Ronan was sitting slumped back in his chair, his legs crossed, scowling out at her from under those black brows. The hair rose a little on Nita's neck, and she started to blush, and felt extremely stupid. "Just because she's not like your precious Seniors. . ." he said.
"Ronan, just shut up. You think you're the greatest thing on wheels, don't you?" And Nita scowled back at him, mostly to cover her own confusion at her anger. "You've got a chip on your shoulder the size of a two-by-four, and you'd better do something about it before it ruins your wizardry. And I'm not one of your little herd of head-nodders, so don't waste your dirty looks on me. You don't like the news, that's just tough."
He stared at Nita, and his expression had changed slightly when she dared to look at it again. He looked a little shocked, still angry: but there was an odd thread of liking there. "No," he said softly, "you're not one of them, are you? Girls have big mouths, where you come from."
She blushed again, feeling more like an idiot than ever, not understanding her own discomfiture. "Wizards tell the truth, where I come from," she said, annoyed. "I wasn't criticizing your Senior, as you would have discovered if you had let me finish. Your manners need work, too."
"And what else needs work?" he said, with that same odd soft tone.
She just looked at him, and her insides roiled.
That dark regard was disconcerting when it was bent hard on you. Worse still when he was smiling. He was the kind of guy who gets notes passed about him all day, the kind that girls look at from the safety of groups, stealing glances, laughing softly together at their shared thoughts about him.
"Hulloooo!!" he said to her, waving a hand in front of her face. "Earth to Nita!"
"Uh, nothing," she said hurriedly. She finished her Coke in one gulp. "Listen, the bus is ready to go."
"What's the hurry? I don't hear. . ." From outside there came a roar of diesel engine. Ronan looked at Nita oddly, then grinned. She flushed again, and inwardly swore at herself. Oh, he is something special. This is awful!
"Can't keep the man waiting," Ronan said, and got up. "You going to come with me?"
"Uh, no, I'll walk it. Fresh air," she said, mortified at the feebleness of the excuse. "Exercise."
"As far as the bus stop, then."
Reluctantly she walked out to see him that far.
"Do you have my number?" Ronan said as he got on. "Call me if you have any problems."
Problems! Do I have problems! Sweet Powers that Be. . . "I'll do that," Nita said. "You're in the book."
Ronan made an annoyed face. "I can't believe this," he said, and the bus doors shut in front of him.
Nita started home to Kilquade. It was a longish walk, about eight miles: but she was really beginning to enjoy the walking. This was one of the prettiest places she had ever been, and the quiet and the sound of the wind and the warm, fair weather were all conspiring to make it very pleasant. She ached slightly from the previous night's exertions, but there were some things worth aching for.
She couldn't get rid of the look of Ronan's face, the whole feel of him, the uneasy, uncomfortable sense of - power: there was no other word for it. Add to that the fact that he was good-looking, and funny, when he wasn't being angry - even then. . .Nita smiled grimly at herself, annoyed: it was funny to be so attracted to someone she so much wanted to give a few good kicks.
God help me, that's what it is. I fancy him.
The admission made her nervous. Neither parents at home or the sex education classes at school ever told you anything really useful about how to handle this kind of thing. Oh, the mechanics of it, body change
s and so forth, and how not to catch diseases, and responsibility, and family planning, and all the rest of it. Not important stuff, like: kissing - how did you do it and still breathe? Is not wearing a bra a come-on? Is it worth chasing someone you fancy, or will it just make you look stupid? And if you catch him, what do you do then?
Or what do you do if you get caught…?
Nita heard something stirring in the hedge off to the right. At first she thought it was a bird - lots of birds nested in these hedges, encouraged by the thorns - but this sounded too loud. Nita paused, and saw a flash of colour, a soft russet red.
"Ai elhua," whispered a voice in the Speech, "I have a word for you."
Nita's eyebrows went up. She hunkered down by the hedge. The red dog-fox was deep inside it, curled up comfortably in a little hide against the wall that the hedge grew against.
"Madreen rua!" she said. "Are you all right?"
"Oh yes. But that you may be. . ." The fox glanced around, a shifty, conspiratorial look. "And that I may pay back a debt and all things be even again. There are wizardries afoot."
"No kidding."
"Then you should get help for them. One of the Ard-tuatha is in hide, not half a mile from here."
Nita was confused: there were several different ways to translate the term. "Ard. . .You mean, one of the Powers that Be? Here?"
"In truth. We are bound, we are all bound not to say exactly where, or who. But it is one of the Old Ones. Catch it at its work, and it must help you, yes?"
"That's one way to put it." Nita frowned. The Powers that Be were required to assist wizards when requested to do so. But you had to catch Them first… and They usually made that difficult, preferring to do Their work in secret. It made it harder for the Lone Power to sabotage it.
"Well," she said. "I am warned, madreen rua. My thanks."
"All's even," the fox said, and in the tiny space where it lay, it somehow managed to get up, turn around, and vanish back through a dark hole under the wall.
Nita got up and went on down the road, trying to make sense of what the fox had told her. It's hard to believe. Why would one of the Powers be living around here…?
She made her way down the little lane to her aunt's drive, and the farm. In the field to the right she could see Aunt Annie heading off with a rake over her shoulder, probably to do something about the new potatoes she had just planted. They were a rare breed, something called 'fir-apple potatoes', and Aunt Annie raked and weeded them herself every day, and wouldn't let anyone near them.
Nita grinned at this and went inside. She was just in the act of making herself another sandwich in the kitchen, when the phone began to ring. Nita ran for it, picked it up, and as she had heard others do, said, "Ballyvolan."
"Is Mrs Callahan there?"
"No, she's not… can I take a message for you?"
"Yes, please. Tell her that Shaun O'Driscoll called, and ask her to call back immediately, it's very urgent."
"All right." Nita scribbled the message down, and said, "I'll see if I can catch her; she just went out. Bye." And she ran out across the gravel yard, vaulted the fence, and headed into the field.
Far away, over the hill of the second field, she could see her aunt walking towards the little rise in the middle of it. Yelling at her seemed ridiculous at this point, so Nita just ran after her as quickly as she could, puffing. She still ached.
She was rather surprised to see her aunt take the rake off her shoulder, and bang the wooden end of it on the ground. She was even more surprised when the little hill split open, and her aunt walked into it.
Nita stood very still for a moment, and her mouth fell open.
Oh, no! she thought. And she remembered Tom's voice, from not so terribly long ago, saying to her father: "Well, you know, Ed, it's your side of the family that the wizardry comes down from…"
My dad's sister…
My aunt's a wizard!
Half torn between terror and laughter, she ran after her, towards the gaping darkness in the side of the hill.
5.
Faoin Gcnoc Under The Hill
The chasm was deeper and wider than it looked. Is this happening in the real world? Nita thought, and paused for a moment to try to see with double vision, as she had seen the other day. True enough, mere daylight vision showed her a smooth hill - no crack; nothing. But then no-one in the house had seen her aunt. She had. Nita was seeing sideways where her aunt was, and this was sideways too. Not as sideways as it might have been, of course.
"Aunt Annie," she said, not loud, but urgently, and loud enough to carry. Ahead of her, her aunt stopped in shock, standing there with the rake.
She looked back at Nita and said, “Oh, no."
"Aunt Annie," Nita said, grinning a little in spite of herself, "what did they tell you about why they'd sent me here…?"
Aunt Annie's mouth opened and shut, and then she said, "When I get my hands on Ed… I'm going to rip his head off and hand it to him."
"They couldn't exactly tell you," Nita said, immediately wanting to defend her father. "It's not his fault."
"Maybe not," Aunt Annie said, "but Nita…! I had no idea!"
"Actually, I was hoping you wouldn't," Nita said, wryly. "I don't usually try to advertise it."
"But how can you be here?" Aunt Annie said. Then in she shook her head. "Never mind that now. That you're here means you're intended to be. I've got business. Let's go and see them."
"Them?"
"Be polite," Aunt Annie said. "And follow my lead."
Nita was entirely willing. She followed her aunt into the hill.
It was not a hill. It was a city. It was like the one that Nita had seen crowning Sugarloaf, but smaller, more intimate. It could not, of course, be inside the hill. It was two, three - ten? fifty? - universes over from the 'real world'. Broad streets, airy; shade, the sound of running water, stone as fluidly formed as if it had been clay once, or flesh - all paused in mid-movement, possibly to move again some day. There were echoes of thatched houses, and of old castles, and of castles no human being could have imagined, hints of architecture Nita recognized as extraterrestrial from her travels - apparently the builders had had connections elsewhere.
The light was different too; harder, sharper, somehow clearer than the light that rested on the fields around Aunt Annie's farm. Things seemed to have sharper edges, more weight, more meaning. Nothing here needed to glow with magical light, or anything so blatant. Things here were too busy being real… more real even than the 'real world'. It was a slightly unnerving effect.
"Oh, and one other thing," her aunt said. "Don't eat or drink anything here."
Nita burst out laughing. "There had to be one place in Ireland where no-one was going to make me drink tea or eat anything," she said.
Her aunt looked at her cockeyed, then laughed. "Well, you keep thinking of it that way."
They walked on among the high houses. "Where are we going?" Nita said.
"To talk to the people who live here," said Aunt Annie. "I do have certain rights. This is my land - I am the landowner. . ." She chuckled then. "As if anyone in Ireland can really own land. We all just borrow it for a while." She looked sidewise at Nita. "Where were you last night?"
"I was out with some very very large things that should have been wolves, but Weren't," Nita said. "Oh, by the way. There was a phone call for you. A Shaun O'Driscoll. . ." I
"I just bet," said Aunt Annie. "The Area Supervisor. Well, we'll see him shortly, but I need to deal with these first."
"These people. . ."
"You know the name," her aunt said. "We don't usually say it… it's considered impolite. Like shouting at someone, 'Hey, human!'."
The Sidhe, Nita thought. The people of the hills… the not-so-little people. "You see them often?" Nita said.
“Often enough. "Good fences make good neighbors," as the poet says. However, every now and then, when you share common ground, you need to have a good long chat over the fence. That's what this is
about."
They came to the heart of the city. There were twelve trees in a circle, and three bright chairs under the trees, seemingly resting on the surface of a pool of water. Or rather, the chairs on either side of the central one were true chairs; the central one was a throne. The trees moved in the wind, and the shadows thrown by their branches wove and shifted on the surface of the bright water in patterns that seemed to Nita to be always on the edge of meaning.
People stood around and watched from under the shade of those trees; tall people, fair people, with beautiful dogs at heel. Handsome cats sat here and there, watching; unconcerned birds sang rainbows in the trees. Nita tried to look at a few of the people, and found it difficult. Not that they were indistinct. They were almost too solid to bear, and their clothes and weapons, in an antique style, all shone with certainty and existence.
The chairs on either side of the throne were filled; the throne itself was empty. Aunt Annie walked straight towards the throne, across the water. Nita watched with professional interest. She knew several ways to walk on water, but she felt safe in assuming that the water here was more assertive, and didn't mind being walked on without more active spelling. She headed out after her aunt.
Aunt Annie stopped about three meters away from the central throne, acknowledged it with a slight nod, and then looked at the person sitting in the right-hand chair. "The greeting of gods and men to you, Amadaun of the People of the Hill in Cualann. And to you, lady of this forth."
The lady bowed her head. "To you also, Aoine ni Cealodhain, greeting," said the man in the right-hand chair. "And greeting to you, Shonaiula ni Cealodhain."
Nita was slightly out of her depth, but she knew how to be polite. She bowed slightly and said, "I am on errantry, fair people, and the One greets you by me."
"This we had known," said the woman in the chair.
"Then perhaps you will explain to me," said Aunt Annie, "why my niece was chased halfway across my field last night by that one's hunt. I thought we had an agreement that if you saw any power of that kind waking, you would warn me so that I could take appropriate action."