The Pool of Two Moons (24 page)

"I do no' ken. I have always been able to do it and have never been able to explain to anyone else how. Perhaps ye may have inherited the Talent, though if so, why do ye no' fly now?"

"Could ye try to explain to me? Or maybe just show me? Meghan says ye can learn many a Skill just by listening and watching."

"Indeed," Ishbel said, floating a few inches above the ground. She swung her legs forward and, slowly and with infinite grace, did a backward somersault. She smiled at Iseult's fascinated and envious gaze and drifted up to sit on one of the massive tree branches far above her daughter's head. She patted the branch affectionately. "Come sit with me, Iseult," she called.

Iseult bent her legs and did a high somersault that brought her within inches of grasping the branch Ishbel sat on.

"Why do ye run and jump?" Ishbel called. "Ye are using muscles and body energy, no' the One Power. Ye are displacing the air, no' the air displacing ye." She slid off the branch and floated down light as thistledown to stand beside her daughter. "Lie on the ground," she commanded. "Close your eyes. Listen to the breeze in the branches. Relax all your muscles, feel yourself light as a feather, light as thistledown, light as a bellfruit seed, lighter . . ."

Her voice blurred into a warm, gentle flow, sweet as honey. After a while Iseult felt as if she were floating. Then Ishbel's voice brought her back.

"Did I float?" Iseult asked eagerly. "I felt as though I did." Ishbel shook her head. "Ye almost did, my bairn. I felt a change in the air, an energizing. I think perhaps ye could, if ye keep trying. Often we need to accept the possibility o' being able to do something before we can. I feel ye have always concentrated on your body's energies rather than on the world's energies. I will know more after the Tests."

The witches spent the night of their Ordeal on Tu-lachna Celeste. At the first lessening of darkness, Iseult rose stiffly from her crouch and began her exercises, warming her muscles and quickening her blood. Lachlan joined her silently, naked as she was, then Meghan came from the forest, her gray wiry hair loose around her body. The white streak in it flowed like a river, spreading out like a delta near her feet. Feld was close behind her, embarrassed after so many years spent fully clothed against the cold of the Cursed Valley. He fluffed out his long beard and gazed studiously at the ground. Ishbel floated down from the sky, startling them all who had looked for her to come along the side of the hill. In the pale dawn, she seemed made of spun ice, so white were her lips and skin and so fair her hair. Only her eyes had any color, and they were blue as ice shadows.

As the witches began to gather, so did the Celestines. Slowly they climbed the hill, their robes ghostly in the wan light. Many more arrived for the singing of the summerbourne than Iseult and Lachlan had ever seen before.
How did they all get here?
Iseult wondered to herself. She had noticed how many of them seemed to materialize between the stone doorway.

Cloudshadow cast her an enigmatic glance out of her crystal-clear eyes.
They traveled the Old Ways,
of course. The singing of the summerbourne has made the Old Ways less dangerous than they
have been in years, and many of my brethren were eager to hear the winged boy sing and see how
strongly the spring runs. Stories of the winged boy have spread far through the hills and forest . . .
As if knowing the Celestines had all come to hear him, Lachlan sang more beautifully than ever before. These last few months in the forest had seen him overcome his reluctance to use his blackbird voice, and he sang a lilting melody that wove all through the humming and trilling of the Celestines. From deep within the earth the spring of water bubbled again into life and cascaded down the hill. Where the enchanted water wound through the forest, fruits swelled and ripened, berries darkened, and nuts began to bulge in hard green knots within the leaves. Birds flocked down to bathe in the sparkling stream, while nixies cavorted in the shallows, their tinkling laughter sounding like far-off sleigh bells. The Celestines were all excited by the strength and clarity of the summerbourne, and the air rang with their high-pitched trilling. They all wanted to touch Lachlan's forehead but Cloudshadow ushered them away into the garden, knowing the winged prionnsa still had his Tests to take. As soon as the faeries had gone, Meghan silently scratched the shape of a six-pointed star within a circle into the turf and bade them take their places. Feeling unaccountably nervous, Iseult obeyed. She knew she must succeed in the examination if she was to be permitted to join the Coven as an apprentice, and she was eager to learn all she could of the mysteries of witchcraft and witchcunning. Before undertaking the apprenticeship examination, an acolyte had to again prove themselves in the First Test of Power, which most would have first undertaken at the age of eight. Lachlan had passed his First Test with ease as a child, but since then had suffered enchantment and exile, and no longer possessed the easy confidence he had once enjoyed. Iseult had been given the First Test by Meghan soon after their meeting, in order to ascertain the limits of her power so, although she had been brought up far away from the witches' sphere of influence, she knew what to expect.

Both she and Lachlan had been extensively coached all spring and summer for this Second Test of Power, and they knew their responses by heart. Both were by nature competitive and warred with each other to do best. Iseult faltered at the Trials in the element of water, and Lachlan had difficulty with the Trials of Fire, but at last they finished, and were told to make their first witch-ring, as was the custom. Meghan watched critically as they labored to fashion the moonstones they had found into a ring. Iseult set the jewel between two single-pet-alled roses and engraved the silver band with wavering lines of thorns. It was a device she knew well, her dragoneye ring set in the same pattern. Lachlan set the moonstone in a tangle of antlers, with the band engraved with leaping stags.

It was the usual practice for apprentice witches to exchange their first-made ring with their mentor. Since Meghan was mentor for both Iseult and Lachlan, she had some difficulty in choosing who to swap rings with. Lachlan was her kin, and so had first claim on her. However, the moonstone ring she wore had been made for her by Isabeau only six months earlier, having been exchanged for the ring made by Meghan's previous apprentice, Ishbel. Meghan was very loath to give Isabeau's ring away. Under normal circumstances she would have worn the ring for at least eight years, until her apprentice was admitted fully into the Coven and she was free to take on another acolyte as apprentice. The presence of Ishbel and Feld complicated matters further. Ishbel was Iseult's mother, but Feld had undertaken much of Iseult's early training. In the end, Meghan decided to let Feld act as Iseult's mentor, for the ring he wore had been made for him by Iseult's father, Khan'tirell. It seemed fitting to the old sorceress that one of the twins should have their mother's ring, the other their father's. Khan'tirell had wrought his ring within the shape of a coiled dragon, a suitable design for a girl who had been raised by the great magical creatures.

This meant Lachlan would receive Ishbel's ring, which Meghan had given to her long ago at her apprenticeship test—it had been wrought by Tabithas the Wolf-Runner and was surely filled with power. Since Meghan NicCu-inn had been Ishbel's teacher, why should Ishbel not stand as mentor for Lachlan, Meghan's kin? "A potent ring indeed for the lad," she said and kissed Ishbel in thanks. Once both acolytes were wearing their moonstone proudly on their right hands, the final challenge had to be met—the Trial of Spirit. In this examination Iseult had her revenge on Lachlan for his smugness over her failure at the trial of water. She was easily able to gain emanations from the bogrose brooch that Meghan passed her. She knew it had once belonged to a woman of hot temper and fierce affections, quick with a slap or a kiss.

After she said all this, in halting tones, she was surprised to see Feld wipe his eyes with his long beard and sigh, "Aye, that's my mam, indeed. How clearly ye conjure her for me!" Lachlan heard no voices from the past, nor saw visions of former owners, nor even gained an impression of emotion from the scarf he was given—all of which would have been acceptable responses. Despite all Meghan's lessons, he could not overcome a reluctance to open his mind. He was both fascinated by, and frightened of, the One Power. Indeed he had seen the worst of it, as Meghan said—his brother ensorcelled and tricked, his brothers transformed and hunted down, himself trapped half bird, half man. Meghan said he had showed exceptional promise when first Tested at eight. He had disappeared when only ten, and was transformed back to human shape when only fifteen. For eight years he had refused to let Meghan or Enit teach him, so embittered with rage that all he wanted to do was fight against the Banrigh.

The First Trial of Spirit he had passed easily, for he had had to reach out and pluck a thought or image from someone else's mind. The Second Trial of Spirit involved opening himself up to reading the energy vibrations of something else. He had been badly burned by such an experience in the past, having held Maya the Unknown's boot in his hand one day as a child. In what everyone saw as a fury of childish spite and jealousy, he had accused his brother's new wife of being one of the dreaded Fairgean, their country's bitterest enemy. Jaspar had been furious. Only Maya's intervention had saved Lachlan from a whipping. Lachlan would have preferred that to what followed—his beloved brother's cold silences, the distance between them. Only Donncan and Feargus had believed him, and it was only a few weeks later that the Banrigh had transformed them all into blackbirds and thrown them from her window. Nothing Meghan said had helped him to overcome his block. The old sorceress had hoped the pressure of the Tests would drive him on, but he merely shook his head and passed back the scarf, his face shuttered.

Because he had not passed the Second Trial of the Spirit, Lachlan had to pass a Test of an element to compensate, just as Isabeau had had to do earlier in the year. He chose water and easily showed he was able to handle and control the element by spinning it into a whirlpool in the bowl, then changing direction so the whirlpool spun in an anticlockwise direction.

Ishbel smiled at them both gently. "Ye must both now show us how ye use all o' the elemental powers. It is time to make yourself your witch's dagger, to be used in all sacred rites and rituals."

"Take the silver o' the earth's begetting," Feld intoned, "forge it with fire and air, and cool it with water. Fit it into a handle o' sacred hazel that ye have smoothed with your own hands. Speak over it the words o' the Creed and pour your own energies into it. Only then shall ye be admitted into the Coven as an apprentice. Only then shall ye have passed your Test."

Iseult and Lachlan obeyed with alacrity, keen to get the Tests finished so they could rise and stretch. Iseult finished first, accustomed to working with weapons, and said Ea's blessing over her narrow blade with a sigh of relief.

As they walked back down the hill, Ishbel frowned and said to Meghan in an undertone, "Is it no' strange that Iseult is so strong in the spirit when Isabeau was so weak? I would have thought ..." Sharp-eared, Iseult looked up in interest and was surprised to see Meghan's lean cheeks color for the first time since she had met her. What was there in the comment to embarrass Meghan? And was it true there was something that Iseult was better at? She was used to finding herself compared to her twin and found lacking. She observed Meghan's flush with interest, but the witch shot her a repressive glance from her bright black eyes and said nothing.

The afternoon was spent in idleness, all the witches tired after the Ordeal and the Testing. Meghan insisted Lachlan and Iseult keep apart, so Cloudshadow took the winged prionnsa away into the gardens with the other Celestines. Later Iseult heard him singing for them, and she felt warm tenderness fill her. How much Lachlan had changed from the surly, suspicious hunchback she had first known! She wondered if she had changed as much.

It was late afternoon on Midsummer's Eve when Latifa came and found Isabeau. She was just about to sit down at the long table and eat some bread and honey. Somehow she had not managed to swallow a morsel all day. Her teeth were actually closing onto the bread when Latifa caught her arm. "Leave that, lassie, ye can eat later. Come with me. I want ye to clean out the furnace." Sukey gave Isabeau a grimace of sympathy as the redhead reluctantly got up from the table. All the scullery maids hated cleaning out the furnace which heated the water pipes, for it was a long and filthy task normally reserved for the lowliest of the potboys. Everyone wondered what Isabeau had done to displease Latifa, to be given such a harsh punishment. Isabeau wondered herself. To her surprise Latifa took her in quite a different direction. They climbed up the narrow back stairs, higher than the maids' quarters, higher than Isabeau had ever been before. Through long galleries, narrow corridors and tightly twisting steps Latifa led her, into the oldest part of the palace. Here the halls were narrow and of gray stone, not gleaming blue marble.

Her keys clacking at her waist, Latifa paused in the corridor and held back the folds of an ancient tapestry. Hidden behind was a door. Latifa fussed through her loaded keyring and found a long key with an ornate handle. She unlocked the door and they slipped through, Isabeau's curiosity growing. They were in a dark hallway. Latifa summoned a tall flame from the tip of her finger and gestured Isabeau forward with her other hand. Isabeau went into the flickering darkness, moving her feet cautiously. Her back to Latifa, she raised her right hand and tried to mimic her. She could summon only a frail flame, though, and so she tucked her hand back under her apron with her crippled one. They came to a dark spiraling stairwell and began to climb, shadows dancing madly as Latifa huffed and puffed. They climbed into a warm dusk, the staircase winding up into a round tower. At each turn was an immensely tall window facing an ancient door with a dirty and cobwebbed lock. At first the lancet windows showed only gray walls and roofs, unfamiliar to Isabeau even after her weeks exploring the palace. Then the tower grew higher than the building before it and Isabeau could see the dark forests of Ravenshaw. A few more twists and she began to see glimpses of the firth over the palace's peaked roof. Each turn and the view grew grander and wider.