Child of the Prophecy (16 page)

"Come on," I said. "Give me a bit of help, can't you?" I put my hand around the creature, pinning the wings so it could not hurt itself with flapping, and lifted it out carefully, head first. I could feel the frantic drumming of its heart, and the fragility of its body, all little bones and feathers. I used both hands to hold the bird more or less upright on the ground before me, facing the open.

"Trees," I said. "Oaks. That's what those are. Fly. Use those wings. Off you go." I took my hands away. The bird stood there, trembling. At least it had stopped its pacing. "Go on," I said, giving it the tiniest push away.

It turned its head and looked at me.

"By all the powers!" I whispered in exasperation. "What am I supposed to do? I can't keep you, I've got to go, and besides—"

The bird stared at me with its big, round, mad eyes.

"Haven't I got enough to worry about?" I asked it. "Oh, come on, then." The pathetic bundle of feathers could not sustain a transformation, that I knew from bitter experience. More than one rat or beetle had been sacrificed to Grandmother's quest for perfection in the art. But a lesser change might be possible. And my gown had deep pockets, since a traveler girl might need to carry a needle and thread, or a handy knife, or a spare kerchief or two. I reached out and passed my hand over the creature's ragged form. "There," I said, picking it up in my hand. Now it was around the size of a mouse: the claws like the little thorns of a wild rose, the eyes tiny, dark and solemn. It blinked at me.

"I hope you're not hungry," I said in an undertone. "I hope you understand keep still and keep quiet." And I slipped the very small bird into my pocket, and went out into the fair.

"Fainne!" yelled Roisin, before I had gone five paces across the grass. "Where were you? Mam's going frantic, said she couldn't find you anywhere! Where were you?"

"Nowhere much," I said. "She'd no need to worry."

"That's not what Darragh said."

I looked at her sharply. "And just what did Darragh say?" I asked her, shocked out of my shyness.

Roisin grinned. "Said, given half a chance, you'd find trouble."

"Nonsense," I told her. "As you see, I'm fine. Where are we going now?"

"To sell the baskets. Once they're all gone we can look around, see the sights. Not on our own, though. Mam won't allow that." She looked at me sideways, brows raised.

"Sorry," I conceded. "I didn't know."

"Uh-huh," said Roisin, sounding just like her brother.

It was all the talk of the day. I sat watching as Peg and Molly and Roisin and the other girls haggled over their wares and pocketed their profits, and the tale of what happened that morning grew ever more elaborate. We'd seen the Grand Master and his assistant pack up and leave the fair entirely, not without many delays, for there were customers dissatisfied, and explanations required. Eventually they made their escape, and this in itself was cause for surprised conjecture, for they'd been a fixture of the fair for many a season, Peg said. Folk swore by their remedies. As for herself, she'd never seen the need for any of those potions. What you couldn't do by yourself, you couldn't do. Folk should accept that, and stop trying to be what they weren't. The fellow brought the crowds, that was the only good to be said of him. Set up close to the Master's cart, and your sales would be steady enough.

I kept well out of it. Roisin asked me what I'd seen, and I told her not much, because there'd been tall people standing in front of me. Just a lot of fuss, and some birds flying off. That was all. But all morning folk were talking about it. They were saying the magic went wrong for some reason. A curse, maybe. The creatures had gone mad, and there was a snake near killed the fellow, and some large animal with claws like knives. Never seen anything like it. And there was some woman gave the Master quite a tongue-lashing. Wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of her. Fierce as a sorceress, she was, for all she was just some farmer's wife. And then, all of a sudden, no sign of her. But the fellow was scared, you could see it. Face the color of fresh cheese, he had, and a red mark all around his neck.

The baskets sold out early and Peg was well pleased. She'd more back at the camp, she said, and other things as well, kerchiefs and bits and pieces. We'd bring them up tomorrow. Our afternoon was free. But, Peg told us sternly, no nonsense. None of us was to go off alone, and we must be back before the sun touched the oaks, for it was a long walk to the camp, and she didn't want the children tired out. She and Molly would pack up, and enjoy a few tankards of cider and a chance to catch up with friends.

Again, I seemed to have no choice. Roisin had attached herself to me and, in the company of two other girls, was leading me out into the press of bodies, eager for some fun. Sudden panic overtook me. There were so many people, so close, and they were all strangers. Horrible, leering men like that fellow, Ross, men reaching out hands to pinch and touch, men saying things like "How about it, sweetheart?" and then guffawing as if they'd made the wittiest joke. Women screaming abuse at unruly children. Stallholders advertising their wares in voices like braying horns. I could not excuse myself, for there was nowhere to go. I had not the power to work a spell of transportation. Father had refused to teach me that, saying I was not ready. I toyed with the idea of turning the lot of them into beetles or spiders. At least, then, the little creature in my pocket would be able to have its dinner. But I'd no quarrel with Roisin or Peg or Molly. Or with Darragh. No, I'd have to do something else. Use the Glamour, Fainne. It had worked before, giving just enough confidence to get by for as long as I needed it. And nobody had noticed a thing. It would be quite safe.

I did it gradually, as we threaded a way through the crowd. It was not so much of a change. The hair from tight-curled russet to smoother red-gold like fine clover honey. The eyes lighter, bluer, wider, the lashes long and dark. The brows delicately arched, the lips sweet and red. The figure not so very different: just a little curve here and a little curve there, and a change in the slope of the shoulders. Lastly, the feet. Straight, beautiful, perfect feet, in neat matching boots. Feet for dancing.

We got roasted nuts to eat from a dark-skinned fellow with a little brazier. They were paid for with a kiss. Not by me; even the Glamour was not enough to make me so bold, so soon. It was Roisin pecked the man on one cheek and then the other, with a wicked little smile. Then there was cider, and that was free for all the folk who sold their wares at the fair. But we were lured by the sound of a whistle and a bodhran and some expert on the spoons, and we were drawn into a great circling and weaving of folk that moved to the jigs and reels ringing out over the sward. The men were starting to return, their business done for the day, and Roisin and the others had an eye out for certain lads they fancied.

Nobody noticed that I was different. After all, I had not become a farmer's wife, or an old crone, or a water-dragon. All I had done was improve upon myself as subtly as I could. As Father had told me, it is not yourself you change with the Glamour. It is other folk's perception. So, that afternoon, I did not adopt a disguise. I'd no wish to disappear and have Roisin and the others out looking for me. I simply wanted to be able to fit in, to join in, to be rid of the terror that came of being myself and always out of place. Besides, I told myself, it was good practice for Sevenwaters.

Roisin had a sweetheart. He appeared on the edge of the crowd, and I saw him watching her, then making his way through to put his hands over her eyes from behind, laughing, and ask her to dance. He'd a very determined jaw on him, and strong shoulders. Not long after, a fellow asked me, and I said yes, and managed the sort of smile my grandmother had taught me.

It was a strange feeling to be graceful. The music seemed to carry me along, and I was floating from one partner to another and smiling without even trying. It was hot, and I took off my kerchief. The blue

ribbon was lost, and my hair came unplaited. I felt the long red-gold flow of it over my shoulders, and the striped skirt whirling around me, and saw the silken fringe of my beautiful shawl glittering in the afternoon sun. I felt the drumming of the bodhran deep inside me, pushing me along. I sensed the eyes of folk on me, admiring, and I didn't mind a bit. I danced with the freckled lad from our own camp, the one with a pony named Silver, and he grinned a lot and said nothing at all. On the other side of the circle, Roisin was still with the same young man; they'd eyes for no one but each other. I danced with an older man, a farmer with a fine, silver-buttoned coat and sharp eyes. He asked me my name, and I told him. He asked would he see me again tomorrow, and I said maybe. He held me closer than I liked, and I did some very fast thinking. The man went suddenly rather pale, and excused himself quickly. I hadn't done any real harm. He'd retch up the food he had in him, and be better in the morning.

The sun was near the tops of the great oaks and clouds were gathering. I was not ready to go. Here, I was the center of something. I was myself and not-myself, both at once. It was around me that it all moved, the men with their hungry eyes, the lilt and throb of the music, the bright flare and flash of scarf and shawl and flying hair, a circle of movement and laughter and light.

A tall fellow was asking me to dance, urged on by his friends. In the distance, I could see Roisin bidding her young man farewell. And beyond them on the far side of the circle was Darragh, standing very still, watching me. His expression was not angry, not exactly. It went beyond that. It was the look of a man whose worst fears have been realized before his eyes. He gave a jerk of his head as if to say, come on, time to go. Then he moved away and was lost in the crowd. He wasn't even going to wait for me.

"Excuse me," I whispered to my would-be partner, and I slipped away as quietly as I could, shedding the Glamour as I went, limping over to the place where Darragh had left me before, close by the great oaks.

Aoife was standing under the trees in the shade. Darragh was by her, grim-faced and silent. He linked his hands to give me a lift up onto the pony's back, and vaulted up behind me, and we were off at a very quick pace indeed. He didn't say anything at all until we were well on the way, passing the little curraghs drawn up by the inlet, with the clouds growing dark in the sky above us. There was nobody else in sight.

"Can't take my eye off you for a moment, can I?" he remarked.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I thought you promised to stay out of trouble. Now look at you."

"What do you mean, look at me?" I snapped, hating it that he was cross with me. "I went to the fair, I sold baskets, I went dancing with your sister, and now I'm going home. Just like everyone else. Isn't that what you want?"

There was a silence.

"Well, isn't it?" Even to me, my voice sounded shrill. He was making me quite uncomfortable.

"What I want doesn't seem to come into it," said Darragh quietly.

"That's nonsense," I retorted, not understanding what he meant. We rode on in silence as drops of rain began to fall. Aoife twitched her ears.

"Of course it's good to get out among folk and enjoy yourself," he said eventually. "There's nothing wrong with dancing. But not— not like that."

"Not like what?"

"Not making an exhibition of yourself. Doing it for the attention. Making the fellows look at you as if they wanted a bit more than just a dance. Doing—doing whatever it is you do."

I bit my lip and said nothing.

"Fainne?"

"I didn't cause any trouble," I said, with what dignity I could summon, wondering why it was that he had the ability to upset me so much. "All I did was enjoy myself. And besides, it's none of your business."

There was another awkward silence, punctuated by the sound of approaching hoofbeats. The freckled youth on his gray pony rode up behind us and came alongside, grinning at me. "Want company?" he asked, and then he glanced at Darragh. I saw his expression change, and then he touched his heels to the pony's flanks and was off ahead at a sharp canter.

"Anyway," said Darragh as we turned to the right and away from the inlet, "what about before that? I heard a story about a wizard, and escaping animals, and a near-riot, and birds turning into snakes."