Child of the Prophecy (9 page)

"But Father said—"

"Forget that. I'm his mother. I know what I'm talking about. There's one reason for you to go to Sevenwaters, and one reason alone. My reason. Why do you think I came here, Fainne? I've been watching you, these long years; waiting until you were ready for this. You will complete what I started. You will achieve the success long denied our kind. You'll show the Fair Folk that the outcast can be strong, strong enough to deny them their heart's desire. You will thwart their long scheme. They will fall together, the folk of Seven-waters and their Otherworld shadows. That's your task."

I gaped at her. "But—but, Grandmother, the Tuatha De Danann? Who could challenge such power? I would be crushed."

She grinned sourly. "I did it, and I'm still here. A little battered, but I have my will. And I nearly succeeded. They're much weakened since the Islands were lost to the Britons. They had a plan for that girl, Sorcha, and her muddy-boots of a lover. They have a plan for Sevenwaters. I nearly ruined the first. But the girl was too strong for me. I forgot the Fomhoire streak. Never do that, Fainne. Watch out for it. Now you'll thwart the second plan. The Fair Folk want the Islands back. They want it all played out in accordance with the prophecy. Down to the last word. And it's all set to happen when another year has run its course. So I've heard."

"Prophecy?" My head was spinning, quite unable to come to terms with the horror, the grandeur and the folly implicit in her words.

"Didn't Ciaran tell you anything? The Islands were taken by the Britons generations back. Ever since then, Sevenwaters has warred with Northwoods. Until the Islands come back to the Irish, both Fair Folk and human folk remain in disarray. They need them. The high and mighty ones want the Islands guarded. Watched over. That's the only way they can protect themselves from what's to come. The prophecy said it would take a child who was neither of Britain nor of Erin, but at the same time both. And there's some nonsense about the

mark of the raven. Well, they've got him at last, the leader long hoped for, grandson of that wretched Sorcha. He's grown up, and ready to do battle with Northwoods, and he's got a formidable force lined up behind him. It won't be long now. Not next summer but the one after, that's what's being said. Your task is to stop them. Simple, really. You must make sure they don't fight, or if they do, make sure they lose. Just think of that. We, the outcast ones, at last gaining the upper hand over the Fair Folk. I'd like to see the expressions on their faces then."

I was so astonished I could barely speak. "But how could I achieve such a thing? And why has Father never spoken of this? It would be impossible, for one girl to stop an army. I would not attempt such a task. It's ridiculous."

"Who are you calling ridiculous?" The old woman fixed me with her berry-dark eyes.

I felt my backbone turn to jelly, but I tried to hold firm. "I would not attempt such a thing without Father's approval," I said. "It is impossible to believe he would support such an idea."

Grandmother's gaze sharpened. Her expression alarmed me. I felt a prickle of fear go up and down my neck.

"Ah," she said, in a very soft voice that clutched at me like a chill hand. "You'll go, Fainne. And you'll do exactly as I bid you do, from now on. I will not see my plans thwarted a second time."

"I won't," I said, trembling. "I won't leave my father. I don't care how strong your magic is. You can't make me do it."

Grandmother laughed. This time it was not the tinkling bell-like laugh, but a harsh chuckle of triumphant amusement. "Oh, Fainne. You're so young. Wait until you begin to feel the power within yourself, wait until men commit murder for you, and betray their strongest loyalties, and turn against what is dearest to their spirits. There's no pleasure like that. Wait until you recognize what you have within you. For you may be Ciaran's daughter, and carry the influence of his druid ways and his excess of conscience, but you are my granddaughter. Never forget that. You will always bear a little part of me somewhere deep within you. There's no denying it."

"You cannot make me do bad things. You cannot force me to act against my father's will. I must at least ask him."

"You'll find I can do just that, girl. Exactly that. From this

moment on, you will perform whatever tasks I set you. You will pursue my quest to the bitter end, and achieve the triumph that was denied me. You think, perhaps, that if you disobey me, you will be made to suffer. A slight headache here; a bout of purging there. Warts maybe, or a nasty little boil in an awkward spot. I'm not so simple, Fainne. Act against my orders, and it is not you who will be punished. It is your father."

My heart thumped in horror. "You can't!" I whispered. "You wouldn't! Your own son? I don't believe you." But that was not true; I had seen the look in her eyes.

She grinned, revealing her little pointed teeth, a predator's teeth. "My own son, yes, and what a disappointment he turned out to be. As for my will, you've already had a demonstration of that. Your father's malady is not some ague he picked up, or the result of nerves and exhaustion. It's entirely of my doing. I have been planning for some years, and watching the two of you. He senses it, maybe; but I caught him unawares, and now he cannot shake me off. So he sends you away to what he deems a place of safety. Straight off to Conor, his archenemy. Ironic, isn't it?"

"You're lying!" I retorted, torn between horror and fury. "Father's too quick with counter-spells, he'd never let it happen. There's no sorcerer in the world stronger than he is." My voice spoke defiance while my heart shrank with dread; she had us trapped, the two of us, trapped by the love we bore each other. It was she who was strongest; she had been all along.

"Weren't you listening?" she asked me. "Ciaran could have been what you say. He could have been the most powerful of all. But he threw it away. He let hope destroy him. He may still practice the craft, but he hasn't the will now. He was easy prey for me. You'll need to be extremely careful. I'll give you some instructions before you leave. The slightest deviation from my orders, and your father goes a little further downhill. You've seen how he is. It wouldn't take many mistakes on your part to make him very sick indeed; almost beyond saving. On the other hand, do well, and he may just get better. See what power I'm giving you."

"You won't know." My voice was shaking. "I'll be at Sevenwaters, and you said yourself you cannot read minds. I could disobey and you would be none the wiser."

Her brows rose disdainfully. "You surprise me, Fainne. Have you not mastered the use of scrying bowls, the art of mirrors? I will know."

I wrapped my arms around myself, for there was a chill in me that would remain, now, on the brightest of summer days. My father sick, suffering, dying; how could I bear it? This was cruel indeed, cruel and clever. "I—I suppose I have no choice," I muttered.

Grandmother nodded. "Very wise. It won't be long before you're enjoying it, believe me. There's an inordinate amount of pleasure that can be had in watching a great work of destruction unfold. You'll have a measure of control. After all, you do need to be adaptable. I'll give you some ideas. The rest you can work out for yourself. It's amazing what power a woman can enjoy, if she learns how to make herself irresistible. I'll show you how to identify which man in a crowd of fifty is the one to target; the one with power and influence. I did that once, and I nearly had everything I wanted. I came so close. Then that girl ruined everything. I'll be as glad as Ciaran will be to see her family fail, finally and utterly. To see them disintegrate and destroy themselves."

She fumbled in a concealed pocket.

"Now. You'll need every bit of help you can get. This will be useful. It's very old. A little amulet. Bit of nonsense, really. It'll protect you from the wrong sorts of influence." She slipped a cord over my neck. The token threaded on it seemed a harmless trinket; a little triangle of finely wrought bronze whose patterns were so small I could hardly discern the shapes. Yet the moment it settled there against my heart, I seemed to see everything more clearly; my anxiety faded, and I began to understand that perhaps I could do what my grandmother wanted after all. The craft was strong in me, I knew that. Maybe all I needed to do was follow her orders and all would be well. I closed my fingers around the amulet; it had a sweet warmth that seemed to flow into me, comforting, reassuring.

"Now, Fainne," Grandmother said almost kindly, "you must keep this little token hidden under your dress. Wear it always. Never take it off, understand? It will protect you from those who seek to thwart this plan. Ciaran would say the powers of the mind are enough. Comes of the druid discipline. But what do they know? I

have lived among these folk, and I can tell you, you'll need every bit of assistance you can get."

What she said sounded entirely practical. "Yes, Grandmother," I said, fingering the bronze amulet.

"It will strengthen your resolve," Grandmother said. "Keep you from running away as soon as things get too hard."

"Yes, Grandmother."

"Now tell me. Is there anyone you've taken a dislike to, in your sheltered little corner here? Got any grudges?"

I had to think about this quite hard. My circle was somewhat limited, especially of late. But one image did come into my mind: that girl with her sun-browned skin and white-toothed smile, wrapping her shawl around Darragh's shoulders.

"There's a girl," I said cautiously, thinking I had a fair idea of what was coming. "A fishergirl, down at the cove. I've no great fondness for her."

"Very well." Grandmother was looking straight into my eyes, very intently. "You know how to turn a frog into a bird, and a beetle into a crab. What would you do with this girl?"

"I--"

"Scruples, Fainne?" Her tone sharpened.

"No, Grandmother." I had no doubt she had told me the truth, and I must do as she asked. If I failed, my father would pay. Still, a transformation need not be forever. It need not be for long at all. I could obey her, and still do this my own way.

"Good. Just as well the weather's better, isn't it? You can walk down this afternoon and stretch your legs. Take that dour excuse for a raven on an outing, it still seems to be hanging about. You can do it then. You'll need to catch her alone."

"Yes, Grandmother."

"Focus, now. Remember all you're doing is making a slight adjustment. Quite harmless, in the scheme of things."

I timed it so the boats were still out and the women indoors. If I were seen at all, two and two would most certainly be put together. I lacked the skill to command invisibility, for, as my grandmother had told me, we had been stripped of the higher powers. Still, I was able to slip from rocky outcrop to wind-whipped bushes to stone wall without drawing attention to myself, crooked foot or no, and it appeared that Fiacha knew quite well what I was doing, for he behaved exactly like any other raven that just happened to be in the settlement that day. Most of the time he sat in a tree watching me.

The girl was outside her cottage, washing clothes in a tub. Her glossy brown hair was dragged back off her face, and she seemed more ordinary than I had remembered. Two very small children played on the grass nearby. I watched for a little, unseen where I stood in the shade of an outhouse. But I did not watch for long; I did not allow too much time for thought. The girl looked up and said something to the children, and one of them shrieked with laughter, and the girl grinned, showing her white teeth. I moved my hand, and made the spell in my head, and an instant later a fine fat codfish was flapping and gasping on the earthen pathway, and the brown-skinned girl was gone. The two infants appeared not to notice, absorbed in their small game. I watched as the fish twisted and jerked, desperate for life. I would leave it just long enough to show I was strong; just long enough to prove to my grandmother that I could do this. Then I would point my finger and speak the charm of undoing. Now, maybe. I began to focus my mind again, and summon the words. But before I could whisper them, a woman came bustling out of the cottage, a sharp knife in her hand and a frown on her lined features. She was a big woman, and she stopped on the path right before me, blocking my view of the thrashing fish. And while I could not see the creature I had changed, I could not work the counter-spell.

Mope, I willed her. Move now, quick.

"Brid!" she called. "Where are you, girl?"

Move envoy. Oh, please.

"Where's your sister gone?" The woman seemed to be addressing the two infants, not expecting a reply. "And what's this doing here?" Before my horrified gaze she bent and scooped up something from the path. If only she would turn a little, all I needed was a glimpse of silvery tail or staring eye or gasping mouth, and I could change the girl back. I would do it, even if it meant all knew the truth. If I did not do it, I would be a murderer.