She reached out to him.
“Turn around, daughter, let me hold your arms.”
She turned her back and he knelt behind her, first holding her head between his hands, setting up safeguards in her mind that said, “I welcome you this far and no farther; for this length of time and no longer; for this task and not much more; and you misuse me at your peril. If there is any sign that your presence harms me, you will leave at once.”
As he armored her mind, he felt trembling in her thoughts, fear like black spikes, excitement like dancing blue-green shimmers. He set up the safeguards in Maggie’s head, then slid his forearms beneath hers, crooked at the elbows, and turned his hands palm lip beneath hers. Her palms kissed his and they twined fingers. He sent out a seeking thread, blessing Tom’s power reservoir, and touched the Presence of Ianthe, once, a death away, his daughter, now earthed at the Hollow, and invited her to wake and work. “Only for a very little while,” he told her, “and in a very limited way.”
“For Family?” she asked.
“For Family.”
She sighed. Like many of the others, she was happy to sleep the deep sleep, offering up her interest in consciousness and only waking when invoked by descendants she no longer knew. “Very well,” she said.
He led her back. “Precious child,” he whispered to Maggie, as Ianthe’s red-gold presence passed through him and flowed into Maggie through her hands, up her arms. He felt her tremble in his embrace. He strengthened her fortress of self.
“Don’t trouble thyself,” Ianthe said, her voice light and floating. “Just let me work.” She lifted her hands from his and looked around the room at the others. “What a confusing present! What manner of garb is this?” she asked, grasping a pinch of denim. “Never mind.” Her hands worked a fluid dance above the bed, revealing again the tangle of gray webbing that bound mother and child together. She clicked her tongue. “All of you, remove yourselves! Happen this goody and I have work to do.”
“I’m not leaving,” said Barney.
“Wife, dismiss thy husband.”
Annis opened weary eyes, looked into Ianthe’s. “Go ahead, Barney. Everybody. I think she knows.”
Laura went to the door. She stood on the threshold and looked back as Trixie, Jaimie, and Barney passed her.
“May I stay?” Tom managed to ask, taking back his voice.
“Who art thou?”
“Soon to be a father, and needing skills,” said Tom.
“And my father resides in thee?” she asked.
Tom stared at her. How strange to see such a commanding presence inside Maggie, as if the flickery person she sometimes was had wakened to full awareness of her own power.
“Yes,” said Tom.
“Go away. This much I vow, that when thou hast need of me, I will return to aid thee. These mysteries are not proper for a man to witness.”
Unhappy, Tom retreated into himself, letting Peregrine have control again. Peregrine kissed Maggie’s forehead and left, taking Laura’s hand as he passed her and closing the bedroom door behind them.
They converged in the kitchen. Laura and Jaimie sat down at the gate-leg table, but Trixie pounced on Peregrine as he entered, and Barney paced, beyond.
“Is that safe for little Maggie?” Trixie asked.
“Safe as spells can make it. Ianthe did not want to be waking; she’ll stay no longer than she must.”
He felt the suppressed anger behind her face; his words did not quiet it. He wondered where it came from and why. A moment later he shook off that concern and went to Barney. Touching the smaller man’s shoulder, Peregrine interrupted the pace-pattern.
“What?” said Barney. He glared.
“My daughter will have done with your wife soon, and then we must test and classify the child. It will help me to know more about you first.”
“Like what? My political convictions? My IQ? My street address?”
“No,” said Peregrine. He tried to invoke Tom’s Othersight, but it wouldn’t operate for him. He asked for Tom’s help, and saw Barney’s aura: a dim turquoise shimmer, with flares of lavender. “May I see your dominant hand, please?”
Barney paced away. “Laura, you married to this jerk?”
“No,” she said. “You haven’t really met Tom yet. This is a Presence.”
“A Presence! Jaimie and Annis keep talking about these Presences as if they were gods. ‘If only the Presences bless the union, we have nothing to fear.’ Well, goddamn it, I don’t think we should have to fear anything anyway. Why can’t we just be happy? And what’s so wonderful about you?” He whirled and stomped up to Peregrine.
“If I bless and sanction you, the Family will have to condone your union with Annis.”
Barney stomped away again. He turned and leaned back against the steel sink. “What if you don’t?”
“You are no worse off than you were before. I will not reveal your whereabouts; the Family will have to find and fight you themselves. But I put it to you that Jaimie is homesick, and that I am the least hidebound of Presences. Methuselah would have blasted you to ash by now, and your child with you.”
Barney’s face went red. He breathed loudly for a moment, then calmed himself. Stiffly he approached Peregrine and held out his right hand.
Peregrine bent his head to study the lines in Barney’s palm. He traced a symbol in the palm with his thumb, watched as it flared blue. He let go of Barney’s hand then and traced a symbol on Barney’s forehead. Its top half flamed yellow, and its bottom half burned blue. “As I thought,” said Peregrine. “There are traces of our blood in you.”
“What?”
“The men of my family have always been…” He paused, smiled, raised his shoulders in a short shrug. “This will weigh in the balance for you. The blood at Chapel Hollow is thinning. They can no longer afford to be purists.”
“Would you bless our wedding?” Barney said after a moment. “She’s so worried about that.”
“Ianthe will know; the child will speak for or against it. But tanganar souls rarely twine; Annis’s malady is, in a way, auspicious.”
The kitchen door opened and Ianthe came in, followed by a restored Annis, carrying Rupert. Barney ran to her, but she frowned, and he stopped before he touched her.
“Tea,” said Ianthe.
Jaimie jumped up and got out a teapot and a tea strainer. She filled a kettle at the sink and carried it toward the stove, but Ianthe intercepted her; the stove was not even lit. “Now,” said Ianthe, holding the kettle in both hands. An instant later the kettle whistled, steam shooting out.
“What kind?” asked Jaimie.
“Mint.”
Jaimie fumbled a box of tea from a cupboard, managed to fill the strainer and hook it to the rim of the pot. Ianthe touched the pot to heat it, then poured water in.
“Are you all right?” Barney asked Annis.
“I feel great,” she said. Peregrine held out his hands for Rupert and she came and handed the baby to him. “Ancient, you honor us.”
They were the first welcoming words he had heard in this house, and they felt strange to him after the anger and suspicion all the others had directed at him, and the fear. “Descendant, you bless our Family,” he said.
Ianthe brought Annis and Peregrine tea in small cups, carrying one for herself. Peregrine took Rupert to the table, seating himself in Jaimie’s now-vacant chair. Ianthe gave Laura a look. Laura stood up, yielding her chair.
Ianthe sat across from Peregrine. “It is a strong soul,” she said, looking at Rupert as Peregrine laid him gently on the table and opened the blanket he was wrapped in. “The birthing of it laid her low.”
Rupert kicked and smiled between them. Peregrine sipped tea, then traced a series of signs in the air above Rupert’s stomach. They flared deep gold and pale blue. “Ahh,” he said. “He will be a fire power. I ask you, father and mother of this child: is it your will he be sealed to the Families of Bolte, Locke, Seale, and Keye?”
“Yes, oh, ye
s,” said Annis, her voice light with relief.
“What does it mean?” asked Barney.
“We bless and sanction you; you may marry without fear—”
“Are they not married?” asked Ianthe, her eyes hot and wide.
“Hush, daughter; a strange age has passed since thou and I walked the world. Marry without fear. Take the Locke name for the child. If any naysay you, invoke us. I am Peregrine Bolte; this is Ianthe Bolte. I am thirteenth generation and she is fourteenth. Now, father—is it thy will thy child be sealed to the Family?”
Barney looked at Annis. “Yes,” he said.
Peregrine sketched a sign on Rupert’s forehead. “In the name Locke we summon a spark for thee, fire for thy thoughts.” A brief flash of gold.
Ianthe sketched a sign above Rupert’s chest. “In the name Locke we summon air for thee to breathe,” she said, and gold flashed again.
Peregrine opened the baby’s diaper and traced a sign over his genitals, murmuring. “In the name Locke we summon water to cleanse and keep thee, to flow through thee.” A flicker of gold.
Ianthe traced signs on the soles of Rupert’s feet. “In the name Locke we summon earth for thee to walk upon.” Two little golden glows.
“We gift thee with clarity and strength,” said Peregrine. He touched Rupert’s forehead.
“We gift thee with love and knowledge,” Ianthe said, touching Rupert’s chest.
“Wisdom to choose the right,” said Peregrine, tapping the baby’s right hand.
“Power to shield thyself from harm,” said Ianthe tapping his left hand.
Peregrine and Ianthe looked at each other a long moment. Time for the electives. “Curiosity,” said Peregrine, laying his hand on the top of the baby’s head.
Ianthe put her hand flat on Rupert’s chest. “Tolerance,” she said.
Ianthe and Peregrine sighed and smiled. “Done,” said Peregrine.
“I go now,” said Ianthe, and faded away. The self-assured tilt to her shoulders, the glow in her eyes went with her, leaving Maggie a diminished person in her wake. But a moment later, Maggie straightened and smiled. She retaped Rupert’s diaper. “Thanks,” she said to Peregrine. “I liked that! I wanted to find out what it felt like to be boss.”
“So I surmised.”
“Sure you did, Pa!” She reached across the table and touched his nose. “Tell me another.”
He grinned, amazed at her joking, surprised at the delight it waked inside him. She reminded him of Ianthe, whose real features he could no longer recall. The feeling of being father to her—a strange love he had never properly expressed while he had lived—pervaded him. Rupert kicked and cooed on the table before him, and he reached out and smoothed the baby’s downy hair, seeing him for the first time. He was a long, thin baby with slender hands and feet, and wide dark eyes, brown like his father’s.
Annis came and gathered up the baby. “Thank you, Ancient,” she said, her eyes bright. “And thank you, Maggie.” She smiled at Maggie, then looked puzzled.
“You are welcome, descendant. Joy in the offspring.” Peregrine nested one hand in the other. Jaimie and Laura echoed the gesture; Maggie did too, after a moment, and Trixie and Barney copied her. Annis laughed, cradling Rupert. For the first time the kitchen seemed full of light.
“Will you pronounce vows to wed us, honored?” asked Annis.
Peregrine lifted a hand, then shook his head. “Look to your man, Annis.”
She glanced at Barney. He offered her a tentative smile, then came to her and hugged her, baby and all. “What is it?” she asked him. “Don’t you want to marry me?”
“Not this way. Not here. Father Wolfe—”
Annis looked over Barney’s shoulder at Peregrine.
“My blessings, descendant,” he said. “Now I, too, shall go.” He let himself sink deep into Tom’s marrow, satisfied with everything he had accomplished for the good of the Family.
Tom rubbed his eyes. Then he looked for Trixie, who saw him and relaxed, her shoulders unhunching. He stood and offered his chair to Laura, who shook her head but came to stand beside him. He looked at Maggie.
“I like him!” she said.
“I’m glad. He likes you too. He doesn’t usually like people. Thanks, Mag.”
“Yeah—thanks, Mag,” said Barney, releasing Annis and his child. “Maggie? Maggie, you can talk.”
“Yes,” she said. “Glad you got away, Barney.”
“Did you? How did you? What are you doing here?”
“Tom stole me. He stole Laura and Peregrine too. And Eddie. He’ll probably leave the Hollow empty before he’s through.”
“You’re—Tom?” Barney asked Tom.
“Mm.”
“Well…welcome to our home,” said Barney. “I—damn—I should have thanked that Presence. I wasn’t thinking too clearly. Can you thank him for me? Thanks for helping Annis and Rupert?”
“All right,” said Tom. He felt very odd. He had been present on some level throughout Peregrine’s actions, without knowing in advance what they would be, or being able to affect them. For the last hour he had felt as if he were watching his friends on a small screen TV with the sound turned low. Now here he was, in a kitchen full of almost-strangers. “Laura?”
“Yes?”
“Would you like some time alone with your cousins?”
She seemed surprised, but after a moment, she nodded. Tom looked at Trixie. She gave him a small smile, a very tired one; he took Maggie’s hand and they went out the back door, with Trixie following. “What would you like most?” he asked them.
“A nap,” said Trixie.
“Inside the house or out?”
“A bed would be nice,” she said.
Tom glanced at the house, wondering about the rooms upstairs. “Oh, they can’t object to that!” he said. “Can you stand a short flight?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
He licked his upper lip, concentrating, trying to remember how Peregrine had flown, and Agatha. It was like surfing on waves that rose from the earth—lifters, Peregrine called them, without being able to see them—but it also involved nets. He put his arms around Trixie, which startled her, stepped on a rising wave, and lifted them both up until they hovered outside a second-story window, looking into a room they hadn’t seen before. “Probably Jaimie’s,” Tom said, staring at a neatly made white bed.
“Heaven,” said Trixie.
The window was open. Tom helped her in through it, then stood, nonplussed, on air, wondering how one got down off a nonexistent wave that seemed intent on traveling outward. At his thought, the wave lowered itself like an obedient elephant and set him on the ground near Maggie.
“So you can fly,” she said.
“I’m not really sure about it. Peregrine could teach me. Is that what you want?”
“Not yet. Let’s get away from here.”
Chapter 16
Maggie strode off, choosing one of the narrow trails that led deeper in among the trees, and Tom followed. The morning sun had chased the frost out of all the exposed places, but under the trees the white lace still lingered on the carpet of dead leaves. The air in the shadows was chilly, tainted with the breath of winter.
After a few minutes’ walk they came to a place where half-bare trees cast what shadows they could over a wide spot in the creek. Maple leaves flared yellow and red; some lay on the water, swaying gently in a loose tapestry against the rocks at the pond’s lower end. Maggie shivered. She had come out without her jacket. Tom noticed how little he felt the cold. He wondered if that was something Michael had built into his clothes with the stain resistance, or whether this was another case of heat being a friend.
Maggie sat on a damp licheny fallen log, one touched by sun. Tom sat next to her. “Liked—hosting Ianthe,” she said. “She untangled all those webs on Miss Annis and the baby, she cut just the right cords—with light beams that came out of my fingers! She made heat come out of my hands and it didn’t burn me. She just wanted t
hat kettle to get warm and it did. Wish she was inside me all the time.”
“I think that’s dangerous, though. Laura said she could burn out your insides.”
She peeked sideways at him through brown hair. “Don’t care. I’d like to die from that. Wouldn’t mind at all. Especially if I could go home, and then if Dad laid a hand on me—heat! If Carroll came for me, and I could do what he could…don’t know what I’d do, but…” She frowned and tucked her hair behind her ear, staring at the ground. “Ask Pa Peregrine if he can call Ianthe back. Bet she could make me fly.”
Tom heaved a deep sigh.—Peregrine?
—Yes, honored? He sounded sleepy.
—Maggie wants to host Ianthe as I host you. Is that dangerous?
—? Oh! Peregrine woke with a rush.—Yes, Tommy. For one thing, Ianthe, unlike me, has no wish for half-life. For another, Maggie has no sitva in her bones. If she hosted Ianthe for a prolonged period of time, her body would destroy itself. I refuse to wish that on one I…consider my daughter.
“He says it would kill you,” said Tom to Maggie, “and he won’t do that. He loves you.”
“Oh…how…” She looked at him and a tear spilled down her cheek. “How could anyone—”
He gathered her into his lap and held her. At first she was all knees and elbows; her face was hot and wet, and she snarled as he hugged her. Then she relaxed.
Tom let Peregrine share the embrace. Peregrine felt awkward at first, but he reached up and stroked Maggie’s hair. She stiffened at his touch, then gradually relaxed. For a long time all they heard was their own breathing—Maggie’s interrupted by occasional sniffles.
“Pa Perry?” she whispered.
“Yes, daughter,” said Peregrine.
“Can you teach me to fly?”
He closed his eyes, trying to figure out a way a tanganar could fly. He thought through Family history, recalling all sorts of games played with tanganar, willing and unwilling, cruel and kind. Never had anyone enabled a tanganar to fly. “I can think of no way, child. Ask Tom. His mind is less cluttered with notions of impossibility. I am starting to fear that if I train him too well, he will lose some of his abilities.”
The Thread that Binds the Bones Page 17