by Kate Forsyth
‘A quest?’ Isabeau breathed.
‘Aye, a quest, if ye like. Listen to me carefully, we havena much time and I have a lot to say. Ye must go to the Rìgh’s palace—the new palace, by the sea. Ye must give this to my friend, Latifa. She will ken what to do.’ Meghan pulled a soft black pouch out of her pocket and opened it slightly to show a magic talisman nestled inside. Fitting easily inside Isabeau’s hand, it was shaped like a tilted triangle, each of the three sides about half an inch wide and inscribed with magical symbols.
‘Where do I have to go? I do no’ even ken where the palace is!’
‘Ye’ll find it. First ye must get out o’ the highlands, and believe me that’s enough to worry about at this stage,’ Meghan said. ‘The land is wild, Beau, and this time I will no’ be there to watch over ye. Ye must be careful. Remember the news Seychella brought—some o’ the magical creatures are growing restless and hatred o’ humans runs high ever since the Faery Decree. Then the forests themselves can be dangerous; there are rivers and waterfalls and cliffs, wolves, snow lions and woolly bears too, Isabeau. Do no’ rely on talking your way out o’ problems either. Woolly bears are no’ the brightest o’ creatures and will no’ wait for ye to say hello.’
‘I’ve lived in the forests all my life,’ Isabeau said indignantly. ‘I ken about wolves and woolly bears.’
‘Aye, but ye do no’ understand. I’ve lived here for many years. The creatures o’ these hills ken me, and ye are under my protection. When ye leave me ye leave my protection.’
Isabeau was a little sobered, both by the unknown before her and by the knowledge the valley was magically protected and she had never known. Those scary nights stumbling home after playing truant, imagining snow lions lurking behind bushes, sabre-leopards behind rocks, the shadows of dragons passing over the moons! She need not have worried.
‘More dangerous, though, are the people ye will meet,’ Meghan continued, leaning forward. Her eyes were black and piercing in her wrinkled face. ‘Isabeau, ye must learn to listen, no’ speak; to watch, no’ seek the centre o’ attention. Ye have received the moonstone and the dragoneye. Hide them with the talisman in this black pouch, do no’ wear them. They will reveal ye as a witch to those who ken and, Isabeau, ye do no’ want to be discovered. Maya’s servants are strong, ye could no’ fight them. Ye are only a fledgling witch, ye ken nothing! Do no’ let your arrogant youth mislead ye. The ways o’ the One Power are very strange and very difficult. Do no’ force your learning and do no’ overestimate it. Hide yourself in mediocrity.’
‘But—’
‘Ye are no’ close to being ready to wear your sorceress ring, Isabeau,’ Meghan said gently. ‘Ye understand the magic instinctively; ye need to understand it with your mind as well. Ye need to study much harder. One does no’ win a sorceress ring so easily. Ye have much to learn and many more trials to undergo.’
‘But I whizzed through most o’ the Trials. It was only the spirit …’ She fell silent.
‘Ye were crackling with the power o’ the comet, Isabeau. It was your sixteenth birthday, a very significant date. And it was only my training that got ye through the earth Trials.’
‘But they were easy …’
‘Only because I taught ye. Earth is my medium, I would ken if ye were strong in it. Ye ken nothing o’ the deeper secrets o’ the earth and how to harness them, and I wish I had time to teach ye. Already we have started, though ye would no’ listen to the silence as I bade ye. Ye canna ken the earth until ye hear her song and her daily grumbles, but ye would always chatter, despite what I said.’
‘I did no’ ken!’ Isabeau protested, startled. ‘Ye never said it was a lesson.’
‘I always said “listen”, but ye were never good at listening,’ Meghan sighed, half mocking, half serious. ‘I hope ye have been listening tonight, Isabeau, for it may be a while afore I see ye again. The Spinners are spinning their wheel and weaving the cloth o’ our lives, and who kens when our threads will next cross.’
‘Why? Where are ye going? Why canna ye come with me?’
‘In normal times I would,’ Meghan replied seriously. ‘No matter how much I’d rather stay here in the peace o’ Dragonclaw’s shadow or go travelling with ye down to the sea. But I canna. I too must venture out. It is too hard to see the pattern tucked away in this wee valley. I must go and gather news and meet auld friends—the future o’ all that we ken and care about may be in the balance.’
‘So how do I find the palace? What do I do when I get there?’
‘Ye must head down through the southern pass, and travel roughly south and east through the forests and valleys till ye leave the highlands. Try and avoid the villages there, the people are surly and suspicious and may remember ye visiting with me. If all portents are true, now is no’ the time to be remembered as the companion to a witch.’
‘But no-one ever kent ye were a witch,’ Isabeau protested, remembering the disguises they had adopted.
‘Och, some kent. With some it does no’ matter; there are still witch-friends in Rionnagan. But it is better no-one kens. No-one must suspect ye.’
‘Is that only for my own safety or will it affect some plan o’ yours if I’m discovered to be a witch?’ An undefined disappointment filled Isabeau and made her voice sulky.
‘Ye are no’ a witch yet, my bairn,’ Meghan responded coldly. ‘An apprentice, merely. But ye are right, it will no’ give the Coven any joy to have one o’ its apprentices caught and tried, particularly one that knows the hiding place o’ Meghan o’ the Beasts. It would make Maya very happy to squeeze that information out o’ ye!’
Isabeau was frightened. ‘Who are ye?’ she whispered.
‘I am who I am, Isabeau. The same person you’ve always known. Meghan o’ the Beasts, wood witch, Keybearer o’ the Coven.’
‘But I dinna ken …’
‘There are many things ye do no’ ken about me, Isabeau. My nature and character do no’ depend upon your knowledge for their existence. Ye had plenty o’ opportunity for observance.’
Isabeau did not know what to say. How could Meghan be the leader of the Coven of Witches, the most powerful witch in the land since Tabithas the Wolf-Runner had been exiled?
Meghan read her thoughts. ‘I was the Keybearer for many a long year; far too many. It has always been the custom to hold the position unto death, but what is one to do when your body refuses to die? So I retired, found this valley and the tree, and went back to the Tower more and more rarely. I was proud indeed when Tabithas was asked to become Keybearer. She held the Key only a short time, the poor lassie. When the soldiers came and the Tower was burning, she gave the Key into my hand and told me to guard it well. So here I am again, carrying a burden I thought I was free of, while Tabithas the Wolf-Runner is dead or banished, I ken no’ where. But enough o’ all this talk. All ye need to ken is that I am again the Keybearer, leader o’ the Coven and the Thirteen Towers, and ye are an apprentice witch and must do my bidding.
‘Once past Caeryla, ye must catch the ferry across Tuathan Loch to Dunceleste, then head north again until ye reach the edge o’ the forest. Ye canna mistake it—it’s an ancient forest and none o’ the local people will go near it for it is thought to be haunted. A friend o’ mine will be there to meet ye and guide ye through to Tulachna Celeste, a high green hill with standing stones in a ring. Do no’ be afraid, my friend will look after ye. It is safe there, it is one o’ the last places o’ safety. It is a magical place, though, Isabeau. Be careful.’
‘I do no’ understand …’ Isabeau faltered.
‘Tulachna Celeste was built by the Celestines, Isabeau, built by magical creatures from magic stone and bound about with spells so difficult they have never been unwound. Even Maya, with all her powers, could no’ break down Tulachna Celeste.’
‘Ye keep talking about the Banrigh as if she was some great sorceress …’
‘Listen to me carefully, Isabeau. Maya is the strongest and most subtle Talent in the land. Only a
very powerful sorceress can have done what she did on the Day o’ Betrayal. But she is tainted with the corruption o’ magic—she loves the Power for its own sake. She uses it for her own ends, she uses it t’ hurt and harm. This is against the Witches’ Creed, which ye swore to uphold tonight. Ye break your oaths, ye are in danger o’ becoming another Maya—cruel, tyrannical, hated.’ Meghan waited until she was sure her apprentice had understood what she was saying. ‘Stay in Tulachna Celeste, Isabeau, till my friend Cloudshadow says it is safe to leave again. Put yourself in her hands. I do no’ want ye travelling through Rionnagan by yourself. There are bandits and outlaws everywhere, and the way is tortuous. She will no’ be able to go with ye, but she will find ye the safest way down to the blue palace, or find someone to go with ye.’
After a moment, Isabeau nodded. Rebelliously she wanted to protest her ability to get herself anywhere, but only a moment’s reflection made her feel this might be a good time to practise listening, not speaking.
‘Follow the Rhyllster for now. Stay out o’ the villages if ye can. Strangers are long remembered among these lonely hills. When ye get to the base o’ the hills, then start worrying about crossing the river. Do no’ use the ferries once you’ve passed Dunceleste—the ferrymen are paid well to report any suspicious strangers to Maya. Once across the river do no’ follow it, since it winds about like a sleepy snake. Head due east, towards the sea. It’ll take ye a long time to reach the palace; ye should be there afore May Day, though.’
Isabeau’s heart sank. She could not imagine a land so large it took months to cross it.
‘Maybe less.’ Meghan smiled at the look on her face. ‘The idea is to get there safely, no’ quickly. The closer ye get to the palace, the safer ye’ll be, strangely enough. The larger cities are used to strangers passing through and the people are less observant than the country folk. Keep the talisman in its bag, that’ll muffle its force. Do no’ use the Power where anyone can see ye or hear ye or smell ye … Aye, remember, a trained witch can smell the One Power, will be able to hear ye and smell ye using it! Take flint with ye and get in the habit o’ using it. Even wee actions, like repairing your hem, can be detected if another witch is nearby.’
Real apprehension stole over Isabeau. She used the One Power as naturally as breathing, in a hundred little ways, always discovering more. How was she to stop using the One Power when she was in the habit of using it so often and so usefully?
‘It will do ye good,’ Meghan said. ‘Ye do no’ understand what it is that ye do. Ye have real potential, Beau; I’ve only ken one other apprentice to learn so quickly when they’re so undisciplined and noisy.’
‘Who was that?’ Isabeau asked with interest.
‘Never mind who. Just remember, if ye are to progress beyond childish tricks and common spell-making, ye must learn control and judgement and insight. That is one reason why I am sending ye to Latifa. She is a very auld witch, very wise, though sharp-tongued. She will no’ stand impudence from ye like I do.’
‘When am I impudent?’ Isabeau exclaimed indignantly. ‘As if you’d ever let me … Seeing her guardian’s black eyes twinkle, she sat back rather ashamed.
‘Latifa knows more than any other witch what is happening in the castle. And she can play tricks with fire that ye could no’ imagine.’
Isabeau’s eyes gleamed blue with excitement. She liked the Element of Fire, it was the most challenging; sometimes arching into her hand like an affectionate cat, other times burning her with a spiteful whiplash of sparks. Earth was obdurate, Air rather frightening and Water pleasant, if rather difficult. Only with the Element of Spirit did Isabeau have no experience. She had no real conception of what it meant.
She knew it was the Element of Spirit that made great acts of magic possible, like the spell enacted by the witches’ ancestors when they made the Great Crossing from their world to this one. According to the early pages of The Book of Shadows, the First Coven had pooled their considerable powers and folded the fabric of the universe so they could sail their ship across the vast distances between the worlds. Meghan had often demonstrated the principle to Isabeau by pinching the cloth of her skirt between the fingers of each hand and bringing the folds together. Isabeau had always been very impressed with that story, thinking what a strange and marvellous spell it must be, to cross the universe like that.
‘Will she teach me?’
‘If she likes ye. Either way ye will work with her, learning what she does, and listening to all the news in the palace. I will send messengers to ye at regular intervals and ye must tell them all ye have heard. Isabeau, nothing will be too small or unimportant to tell me, I canna stress this enough. Anything which seems odd, anything at all. If the portents be true, the affairs o’ Eileanan are at last coming to a head.’
‘How will I ken your messengers?’
‘I will send an animal of some kind. Beware hawks. If ye are good and study hard, ye might even be able to scry me, though not until Latifa allows ye. It is very dangerous to scry when a seeker may be watching.’
‘What is Latifa’s work? What shall I be learning?’
‘Latifa is Maya’s cook,’ Meghan replied.
‘Cook!’ Isabeau cried. ‘I hate cooking!’
Meghan raised her eyebrows and continued, ‘Cloudshadow will do her best to deliver ye safely into Latifa’s hands. Ye may trust them both. Stay in Rhyssmadill till I send word. Latifa shall take good care o’ ye, and teach ye much that I canna. She is a fine witch and a loyal member o’ the Coven.’
‘Meghan, how could ye no’ tell me who ye were?’
‘Who I am? I am who I have always been,’ the sorceress snapped. ‘And ye have just grown out o’ childhood, Isabeau, in dangerous times. Discretion has never been your greatest strength. So I am Keybearer o’ the Coven now Tabithas is gone. How would ye have profited by knowing that? Would ye have listened more to my teachings? I doubt that. I wish ye did no’ ken now, since it may slip ye anytime and the last thing I want is Maya’s attention. Ye must be prepared to look after yourself. Jorge canna travel with ye either for he must go to warn the rest o’ the witches in the Whitelock Mountains. We can mind-talk to the ones we ken, but that is often too risky.’
‘What about Seychella?’ Isabeau asked.
Meghan’s old face twitched a little, but she said, ‘If they take her down to the city for trial, we should be able to help her, or she will escape herself. She is a very strong witch. If they have killed her, there is nothing we can do.’
Isabeau tried to swallow the tight knot in her throat, and wondered at the wood witch’s lack of grief. Surely she must be sorry? But the thin, wrinkled face was set hard with determination and the black eyes were fierce.
‘Isabeau, I have taught ye as much as I can, now ye must learn by yourself. Wherever ye go, listen and watch, for ye must find many o’ your teachers yourself. The journey itself will be your first lesson. Just remember, the penalty for witchery is exile or death, and the power o’ Maya grows ever stronger.’
‘Where are ye going?’ Isabeau asked petulantly, not so sure now she wanted to leave the serenity of the mountain loch, with its flowery meadows, massive trees and the sharp fang of Dragonclaw always rearing above.
Meghan looked behind them, where the peak loomed. ‘I go in search o’ the dragon,’ she said.
Maya rode through the woods, her shirt damp and sticky, her short hair dripping down her neck. Despite the warm sun, the singing birds, and a general sense of health and well-being engendered by her swim, the Banrìgh was frowning. She wished she did not have to return to the castle, its corridors filled with spying servants, suspicious courtiers and zealous acolytes, her pallid husband waiting in the royal suite. For a moment her mouth curved, and she thought about her husband. He could not bear her to be away from his side for more than twenty minutes, and he would be fretting now.
He’s addicted to me, she thought, like any fool to moonbane. Even that thought had its sting, though, for her hold over him had
weakened again with the first smudge of red on the night horizon. She thought of the comet with a feeling oddly akin to fear. For sixteen years her hold on the Rìgh had been without question, so much so that she had let him drift away a little these past five years. She had known she could reel him back anytime, and she had been busy cementing her rule over the country, searching out and eradicating those thrice-cursed witches and fighting the resistance movement that had inexplicably begun to erode her power. Slowly, her enemies had been nibbling away at her security, undermining her strength.
Maybe it had been a mistake to confront them that manic day so long ago. It had seemed too good an opportunity to be missed: Jaspar in the first rage of his love, her unsure of its lasting power, and the witches unsuspecting and arrogant. The Day of Reckoning had taught her much about the range and subtlety of her own power, and had set them all on the path she had chosen. It was worth the risk, she decided, though my path is tangled now.
Far overhead, a hawk flew through the sky, bright ribbons dangling from its talons. As its shadow passed over her, Maya shivered. The trees were thinning and she could see the gleam of water. Soon the high blue towers of Rhyssmadill would appear through the branches, built on a great spur of rock that thrust out into the loch so the palace was surrounded on three sides by water. In a way Rhyssmadill was a symbol both of Maya’s triumph on the Day of Reckoning, and of her failure. She had convinced the Rìgh to build her a new palace, far away from the old palace and its Tower, with its ghosts and magic, its mysteries and secrets. For the first time in more than a thousand years the Clan of MacCuinn had moved its court from Lucescere. That was her victory and a sign to the whole land that a new order had been ushered in.