The Wittering Way

by Nat Burns

  “Good. I’ll go get my bags.”

  I brushed Higen aside and took her arm. “Wait! Memo, there’s no way we can get into the citadal again. We were lucky to get out last time.”

  “But, Cleome, we have to!” she cried out. “We have to bring her home. Goddess knows what they are doing to her. She might be hungry or...scared.” Tears trembled in her large black eyes.

  I turned away, sudden terror filling me. I didn’t want to think about any of that.

  “We have a plan,” Yewsy said quickly. “We’ll get her. And soon.”

  “I want to be part of it,” Memo stated. “Don’t leave me out of it.”

  Yewsy handed her a mug of tea. “As soon as we decide for sure, you’ll be told.”

  I sighed, indecision making my thoughts spin. I knew one thing for sure, this plan had to be kept secret for now. Not an easy thing in a people known for their openness.

  Book Eighteen

  I WAITED UNTIL Yewsy was fast asleep before touching her between the eyes in a sleeping bind. I left the snuggly warmth of the bed and moved through Jana light shining in from outside. At the worktable, I lit candles and shaped them into a pyramid shape, the ancient shape of the foremothers. I pulled mother’s book close and read the section on summoning a Diarmin.

  It was a relatively simple working but had many layers of depth. It touched on all the senses—touch for earth, taste for fire, smell for air, sound for water and for sight, the ancient spirit of Akasha that all our tribes answer to. The energy of the working cycled through these senses many times until the message reached the particular Diarmin summoned. A special doorway had to be constructed in the center of the work surface so that some of the Diarmin’s supernatural ken would be stripped away, otherwise it would be too powerful to exist on this plane, in this time.

  I moved a separate candle closer to the grimoire. Each Diarmin was associated with certain signs and seals, so I pored over the short list of names and the notes my mother had scribbled about each of them. During the many millions of eons on this earth, some Diarmin had fallen away, and she noted the ones that had passed. They were not any more immortal than the ones they had served but many still remained. I studied the list until one candle had guttered and the wick on another had grown unmanageably long. Finally, I sighed deeply.

  “Okay, Afton. Start the process. It’s Occil.”

  I felt his heat grow as I laid out the long sprigs of dried rosemary. I plucked a few more from the herb bundles overhead and completed the passageway. Reaching to the side, I placed a rock, part of a Jana wing, a candle and pulled a goblet of cool water close. I sat back and stared at the square center of the larger square of interlaid rosemary branches. There was only darkness there, but I cowered nevertheless.

  Moon that gleams and glows

  Let your wise eyes see

  I summon the evil one, Occil

  To draw it close to me

  Hear my needy heart Hear my honest plea Evil cannot create love But to do my will can be

  I spoke with a firm voice, tucking fear away so the wicked one would not see. I said it three times as the world howled around me. Afton was spinning faster than ever before and causing anything with little enough weight to fly, spinning about the cottage. I ducked as a wooden bowl flew at my head and momentarily bisected Afton, yet I continued the working unabated. The vines on the walls trembled and the Lares and Fey peered out at me with wide, frightened eyes. Doubt surfaced in me but I called up Avapeony’s young face and I continued. A small murder of crows took flight and, though buffeted off track by the wind, managed to make their way outside through the window opening.

  I bound the spell then closed my eyes for a brief moment to set the work. An object hit me in the shoulder, twisting me and setting off the old pain in my back. I snapped my eyes open and saw a deep red glow in the center of the sheaving square. One tiny hand snaked forth and a bulbous red eye examined me.

  “Who are you?” a creaky voice asked as a wave of fire smell washed across me.

  “Cleome of the Widdershin join, daughter of DaisyFir,” I responded.

  “Ahh, a Meab,” the voice continued conversationally. “Will you take away the square? I fear harm to me.”

  I glanced at Mother’s grimoire. Under no circumstances should the shearing square be removed and the creature allowed full power.

  “I am sorry, Occil, I cannot do that,” I said firmly.

  Another clawlike hand appeared at the rim of the square. “Are you sure?” it asked, making me feel as though I were mistaken in my decision.

  “Y...yes, I am sure. Pass through the square, Diarmin, or I shall summon another.”

  Two pointed ears set vertically atop a head appeared and it paused. “I don’t like this,” it whined. “Why should you wish to harm me?”

  I slid the grimoire closer and slid my finger along the list of Diarmin.

  Occil’s red, vertically pupiled eyes appeared at the rim of the square. “Stop, wit, don’t you see I come forth?”

  I sat back and waited silently as the tiny creature, no larger than a Jana, lifted itself from the square. It fell to one side and lay curled up, tongue hanging from its mouth. I studied it. The dark brown creature had a strange bifurcated mouth filled with tiny, sharply-pointed teeth. The flat nose above this mouth was a pink, inverted triangle. The pupil-divided eyes were large, bulbous and almond shaped, with an observant, eager gaze. It studied me as keenly as I studied it.

  “Why have you called me, wit?” Its eyes roamed the cottage with a measuring glance.

  “I need your magic to rescue my sister,” I answered.

  “Rescue?” It slid across the table and grabbed two grapes from a bowl on the kitchen counter. “Rescue, how?”

  “She was taken by the Brinc clan and is being held against her will,” I explained.

  “The Brinc clan? Aren’t they your people?” Grape juice sheened its short chin as it awaited my answer.

  “There’s been...complications,” I said as I got to my feet. “Our paths have diverged.”

  “What do they want with her?” Occil rolled onto its back and extended its skinny arms and legs into the air, as if stretching them.

  I sighed and straightened the magic tools, pressing out candle flames. “It doesn’t matter, and I’m not sure. All I know is that her home is here and this is where she should be.”

  Occil sat up and studied me for a long moment. “So, you want me to get her from somewhere else and bring her here?”

  I stared back. “Yes.”

  “That’s all you want.”

  “Yes. Can you do it?”

  The creature smiled and new fear quaked in me. The smile was somehow more horrible than the Diarmin’s already disturbing appearance. “Can I? Of course. Will I? Hmm.”

  I knew better than to let any fear through where these creatures were concerned. I lit a new candle and began the banishing.

  In these names that are above all others

  the name of the great Mother—

  “All right. All right! Sheesh! You’re a bit testy,” Occil said. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Go? Go where?”

  He eyed me with one squinted eye. “Are you addled? Is this a mistake? I thought you wanted to go get this sister.”

  I blinked. “Yes. You want to go now? And I’m going with you?” I hated that my voice squeaked.

  The creature nodded slowly, still eyeing me as though I had two heads.

  “Wait! I need to get something...someone. Wait there.” I spread my hands and made a staying work with my left hand. I rushed from the table and into my sleeping cell. I tapped Yewsy’s forehead.

  “Time to awake. We are going back to the citadel,” I whispered loudly.

  Yewsy opened her eyes and stared curiously at me. “I heard you say citadel?”

  “Yes. The Diarmin is ready to go,” I answered.

  “Diarmin?” To her credit, she rose immediately and began throwing on her outer clothing. “You
summoned it?”

  “I did.” I shoved Afton aside and pulled on my day tunic and my jacket, tucking my daggers into my woven waistband. I donned my hat then grabbed Afton back to my shoulder. He protested this rough treatment and I think Brennen was reacting in much the same way, evidenced by his indignant purple hue.

  “What’s it like?” Yewsy whispered, coming close.

  I just shook my head as I turned to the door. “See for yourself.”

  We peered around the door together and watched as Occil gleefully dripped hot candle wax on its rounded belly. Yewsy looked at me.

  “It’s so little. Are you sure it’s...”

  “I think so,” I answered. “But watch it. It’s a troublemaker.”

  “I can hear you,” Occil said. “Let me off this table. Then we can go.”

  We approached it cautiously, and I formed the release symbol then stuffed my mother’s book into my bag.

  “Ahh, that’s better,” it said, spreading its bony arms wide. “Let me see where we’re going.”

  Before I realized what was happening, the creature had jumped on my shoulder and inserted one arm into Afton. The fammie squeaked, but the Diarmin petted it gently with its other hand.

  “You know, I always wanted one of these,” Occil said, wistfully. “I can only imagine what it is like to have a constant companion. The Meab and the sprites are so blessed to have them.”

  Afton pulled away, but gently. “Yes, our fammies certainly sustain us,” I said. “We know how blessed we are,” Yewsy agreed. The Diarmin held up its hands and wiggled them.

  Book Nineteen

  I BLINKED AND when I opened my eyes the three of us had joined Ronat and Avapeony in the dungeon of the citadel. It was a dank and airless place, made up of mortared stone walls enhanced by heavy metal fittings. The two Meab we sought were crouched in a far corner on a pallet of mostly disintegrated straw.

  Ronat’s head snapped up so quickly that I thought her thin, twig-like neck would snap. Avapeony’s eyes widened as she clambered to her feet. “Cleome? Is it really you?”

  “Well, hello there,” Occil said, scurrying to Ronat’s side. “You didn’t tell me your sister was so beautiful.”

  “That’s not her sister,” Yewsy said. “That’s the daughter of the man who caused all this!”

  “It’s not what you think!” Ronat responded sharply. “My father was a pawn in a bigger game. Prosee join and my brothers...they poisoned his mind.”

  “My join has been destroyed,” I responded. “And the two of you are here. That’s all that matters.” I said, trying to stem my latent anger.

  Occil was reaching up and touching Ronat’s thigh, lovingly, and she repeatedly swatted the hand away as she glared at me. She turned to the Diarmin. “Why are you touching me? Who are you?”

  A soft, plush bed suddenly appeared where the pile of straw had been. The air filled with a potent flowery scent and suddenly Ronat’s close-fitting one-piece suit was replaced with flowing morning robes of fine silk. A chair filled with soft cushions appeared behind me and lush, colorful tapestries covered the stone walls.

  Yewsy grasped my arm. “Cleome, what is happening?”

  “Occil, what are you about, Diarmin?”

  Occil was still staring adoringly at Ronat. “I make a beautiful, comfortable home for my love.”

  “Home? Love?” Ronat frowned in puzzlement. “No, stop it!”

  “It displeases you, lovely one? Tell me what you want and I will provide it. Your wish is my desire.” Occil waved one tiny hand and the wall hangings were suddenly a different design, a deeper color.

  Avapeony moved closer to me. “Cleome, you brought a Diarmin? What were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking that we need to bring you home. There was no other way.” I knew stubbornness rang in my voice.

  Beautiful jewels appeared on Ronat’s chest, fingers and ears. “Wh...what?” she gasped and reached up to rip them from her body. They fell on Occil’s head but the creature seemed unfazed.

  “How have you been treated, Ava? Have they hurt you?”

  Avapeony shook her head. “No. They forget food and water sometimes, but Tsisi brings it.”

  “Tsisi has been here? I wish she had contacted me.” I frowned at my sister. “I would have appreciated knowing that you were all right.”

  “I have more important things to do than...oooh...” Tsisi flew low and blinked into invisibility in front of Occil’s face, dropping a basket of water to the dungeon floor. “Why have you released it, Cleome? Do the Mothers know of this? Surely, they would never have allowed...we are so much better off with them locked away. They cause so very much trouble, Cleome. I am just having a...”

  Occil waved a hand and, though Tsisi’s lips moved, her voice could no longer be heard.

  “I apologize, my lovely,” the Diarmin said to Ronat. “Music would be a much better choice. Shall I bring up music? What is your preference, love of my life?”

  Soothing harp music faded into the room. Ronat’s face was a morphing of disgust and bewilderment as she glared at Occil.

  Tsisi flew to me as she tried to shake off the binding set by Occil. It was strong and took her three tries.

  “See?” she said archly. “This is what I’m talking about. There is no possibility of controlling what it does. Have you thought of that?” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “They are tricksters, too. Do not trust it. Do not.”

  She flew around in an agitated circle, finally pausing again in front of my face, wings flapping frantically. “Oh,” she wailed sadly. “I go to tell the Mothers. To bring them even more grief to add to what they deal with at present.”

  I watched her fly out through one of the high windows and sighed heavily. “It’s time, Occil.”

  The Diarmin ignored me. It was sitting on the bed, prone, chin on his propped up palms, staring longingly at Ronat who had pulled Avapeony aside and was feverishly discussing something with her. Every time she absent-mindedly shrugged out of the morning robe, Occil twitched a hand and magically placed it back on her shoulders.

  “Diarmin! It’s time. Take us back to Witta.”

  “Why?” it asked sleepily. “I like it here.”

  “You don’t understand, you twit. The Brinc Meabs are trying to kill the Witta Meabs and we need to go back before they come down to the dungeon,” Yewsy explained impatiently.

  This captured the Diarmin’s attention. “Kill? It’s unheard of for Meabs to kill one another. Surely you’re mistaken.”

  “Send out your sense, Diarmin. The Brinc have embraced machines instead of magic. Do you feel magic here?” I asked.

  Ronat approached. “It’s true, Diarmin. My clan have taken on the Milesian machines and technology. They use these weapons for ill.”

  A goofy smile spread across Occil’s face when Ronat addressed him directly. “Machines? Technology? I like the sound of those words. Are they very powerful, these machines? This must be what the seers predicted.” Its eyes narrowed. “Is this your way, beloved?”

  Ronat reached behind and grasped Avapeony’s hand. “No. My way is the Witta way.”

  “Well, then Witta way it shall be,” Occil agreed amiably. “I will disable the machines.” He waved his arms.

  Moments later, a great roar sounded and after that, just a few moments more, running feet thundered throughout the citadel. The stone walls fairly shook in outrage.

  I gasped and glanced upward. “Diarmin! What have you done?”

  “I think they’ve forgotten their magic,” Occil said thoughtfully. “They run amuck, helpless and stupid.”

  I grasped my head in both hands. “Afton, go see,” I said.

  Afton parted and squeezed around the heavy wood and metal door. The sound had not let up, indeed, it seemed to be louder as more of the Brinc joined in.

  Afton sped through the doorframe and slammed into me. “They have guessed we are here,” he said. “They come.”

  He showed me images of outraged Brinc, beat
ing their useless machines, panic on their gaunt faces.

  “Occil, we leave now, this moment.”

  Footsteps sounded on the stone entryway to the dungeon. A voice called out to Ronat.

  Occil turned to Ronat, scowling. “Who dares speak your name? Speak the request and I will do away with him.”

  “No! It’s my brother, only my brother,” she said hastily.

  “Please, do not harm him.”

  “Occil...” I warned. I made as if to reach for the grimoire in my bag.

  The Diarmin let out a long-suffering sigh then lifted its arms and wiggled its hands.

  Book Twenty

  I KNEW I was in trouble when the Diarmin refused to go back to Endet. “You’ve got to make it leave us alone,” Avapeony said in a

  harsh whisper.

  “What do you expect me to do?” I responded.

  “You brought it here, now, send it back!”

  “Oh, as if I haven’t tried.” I hoped I didn’t sound as frustrated as I felt.

  Two suns had passed since the five of us had returned to Widdershin join. I could tell that Avapeony was relieved to be home, but the Diarmin, Occil, would give Ronat, and thus Avapeony, no rest. Its infatuation with Ronat was boundless and each day brought new luxuries to our door. Our sleeping cells had the finest beds. Our foods and breads were the freshest and most nutritious. Our clothing changed hourly so we were always perfectly neat and clean.

  It was maddening.

  I had allowed the Diarmin a second day in this world. It seemed an honest payment for rescuing Avapeony. But, on the dawn of the third day, when I forced the issue, the Diarmin refused to go back through the shearing hole. My banishments were never completed because it bound my words so they couldn’t be heard. We had gone back and forth like this until, frustrated, I decided to work smarter, not harder. I needed to figure out a way to outsmart the obnoxious creature.

  A sudden disturbance near the front door drew our attention. A tiny fox, which had been sleeping on a cushion next to the hearth, leapt up, alarmed, and sprang through the window. Vines shook on the walls and my gaze roamed the room, seeking what had caused the unease.