The Pool of Two Moons (32 page)

"A Mesmerd! One o' those blaygird faeries from the marsh? But how? Why? Were ye in Arran?" His voice expressed intense disbelief, for he knew Meghan would never have risked hiding in the misty fenlands of Arran where the MacFoghnans ruled.

She did not tell him where she had been the last sixteen years, instead saying wryly, "The Mesmerd was in league with a troop o' Red Guards and a seeker. Strange bedfellows I ken, but then I find the MacRuraich and the Banrigh strange bedfellows as well."

Anghus flushed, and bit his lip. "I am sorry indeed to hear Seychella is dead," he said gruffly. "She saved my life one time, and broke bread under my roof."

"As have I."

He said nothing.

Meghan laid her hands on his arm. All the muscles were tense and knotted. She said softly, "It is a cruel compulsion, to take your daughter and hold her life and safety over your head. I knew o' your coming and I waited for ye. I ken there is no escaping the black wolf once he has begun to hunt. I shall come with ye peaceably, as ye knew that I would. I have one question for ye first."

"What is it?" His voice was strangled in his throat.

"Why have ye no' hunted down your daughter as ye have hunted me? The Talent is strong in ye. Indeed, if ye were no' heir to the throne o' Rurach, we would have asked ye to take your apprenticeship and join the Coven. Ye should have been able to Search her out easily, a child o' your blood and bone."

"Ye think I have no' tried!" Anghus roared, temper breaking free. "I have Searched the whole land from shore to shore for her. I ken she is still alive, but somehow they have hidden her from me. My own daughter, hidden to my eyes!"

Meghan was silent, her eyes fixed on his face. With a broken groan, he told her the whole story. How his Talent had tricked and misled him again and again, making him feel Tabithas was near when all the time she was far away; making him throbbingly aware of his daughter without allowing him to fix her position.

"How do ye ken Tabithas was far away?"

"She was no' near me," he answered. "So many times I was as aware o' her as if she was in the next room, but never, never, was she there."

"Did your daughter have the Talent?"

He nodded brusquely.

"Did she wear your device?"

He nodded again.

She said thoughtfully, "It occurs to me a reverse spell could have been placed upon the crest. A simple trick, easy enough for anyone with a small amount of skill and training, but highly effective in a case such as yours. Each time ye fix upon her, the medallion would repel ye in the opposite direction. She could no'

find ye either, for the reverse spell would work against her own Talent as well. All ye would need to do to find her is go against your natural impulse. Fix on her, then go where your Talent tells ye no' to go." His eyes were blazing with hope and excitement. "Could it be that simple?" he cried. "All these years, and I was kept away by an elementary reverse spell!"

"Happen that is the reason. It is only a guess, Anghus, but the only one that I can think o'. Try it if ye will. In the meantime, ye should perhaps know the blind warlock Jorge has been gathering together bairns o'

Talent to begin a new Theurgia. Among a bevy o' beggar children he made friends with was a young lass with strong Searching powers. She wears around her neck a battered medallion that feels like a dog or a horse. Do ye perhaps think . . . ?"

Her question was not answered, for Anghus was on his feet, already pacing restlessly. "Could it be my Fionnghal?" he asked. "The Grand-Seeker Glynelda always said she was at Rhyssmadill with the Banrigh, but I have searched every corridor and storeroom o' the palace and every street and courtyard o' Dun Gorm and no' a trace o' her did I find."

"If she be your daughter or no' I canna tell," Meghan replied. "Such a strong Talent as she shows is rare .

. . and I remember now Jorge told me she had been raised under Glynelda's hand. This lass was never at the palace, though. She was apprenticed to a thief and bounty-hunter in the Awl's pay, in Lucescere." Anghus frowned and his hand moved unconsciously to his side, where the hilt of his sword normally hung.

"I hope then that she is no' my daughter," he muttered. 'A cruel apprenticeship indeed for my young lass."

"Any young lass," Meghan said.

The prionnsa nodded. "True indeed," he answered. For a few moments more he paced to and fro on the moonlit grass, then he turned to the witch and said, "Do ye think it is the same with Tabithas? Will I find her if I Search against the pull?"

"Nay," Meghan said. "Ye canna find Tabithas for ye were looking for her in the wrong form. Ye were expecting her to be the same as ye have always known her. She is different, though, far different. Her mind and soul are no longer what ye knew. Anghus, Maya has a very strange and terrible power, one I have never heard o' before except in Other World faery stories. She can transform people into any creature she likes. Tabithas was turned into a wolf. She has lived in the forests around Castle Rurach a long time syne. She is near. Indeed, she waits in the forest."

Anghus was flabbergasted. He could only stare at her as if she had spoken in a different language. In the growing light, Meghan could see his wide-open mouth. "Tabithas. My sister. Ye say she has been turned into a wolf?"

"Aye, so it seems. She came here last night. We talked. She has no language left but that o' the beast. Sixteen years she has been trapped in the body o' a wolf, unable to reach anyone. She says she tried to speak with ye many times, but your mind was closed. Slammed shut. After a while she gave up. She ran with the wild wolves o' the forest and won their allegiance. They have been biting and nipping at the Banrigh's heels all this time, though since the rising o' the comet they have struck in force. Tabithas remembers the calendar o' the Coven; she knows the year o' the comet is always momentous indeed."

"Tabithas. A wolf."

"Aye, I fear so. It is ironic, is it no'? Maya seems to have a touch o' wit in her enchantments. I wonder how many brave witches are now toads or rats?"

Anghus shuddered. From his pocket he pulled an ornate flask, which he uncorked and bent to his mouth rapidly. He swallowed a mouthful, and then another, and put the flask down dazedly.

"The wolf that followed me here," he said. Meghan nodded. "That wolf with the silver-tipped ruff. She is Tabithas." Meghan nodded again. "I canna believe it."

"I'm sorry, Anghus, my lad, but indeed it is true. She tried to stop ye, but when ye would no' stop she came with ye. I convinced her last night to let me speak with ye and try and find the reason for your hunt."

"It does no' change anything," Anghus said suddenly. "No' any o' it, ye telling me about the reverse spell on Fionnghal or that the Banrigh turned my sister into a wolf. I ken your witch-tricks; I know how ye witches can twist words until a man can no longer tell what is right or true . . ."

"And do ye feel what the Banrigh does is right or true?" Meghan said in a terrible voice. "Are ye happy in her service, MacRuraich, descendant o' witches?"

He twisted away, his face set hard. "That has nothing to do with it, Meghan. I have sworn to this task; I dare no' risk my daughter on your word alone."

"Ye ken I do no' lie," she said sternly.

"How do I ken that? What is the Witches' Creed now? Ye swore no' to kill but have no' soldiers been killed by ye and your companions, many o' them?"

She bowed her old head. "That be true. Know I do no' kill lightly, nor lie easily. Yet both I have done in this struggle, for indeed it is a fight to the death. But I shall neither lie to ye nor harm ye, for I have broken bread and eaten salt with ye, and ye are the beloved brother o' my friend, who I loved and who loves ye still."

"I do no' wish to do this, Meghan," Anghus said desperately. "But I have given my word and canna break it."

"I know," she said simply. "I am ready to go with ye."

"What o' your companions? Where are they?"

"I am alone," she answered.

He paced a moment more, then turned and nodded. "So be it. I am sorry, Meghan. Beware that scum, Humbert. He is a cruel man, and he longs to break you. I am ordered to deliver ye into his hands."

"Ye do no' take me to the Banrigh yourself?"

"Nay, he countermanded her orders. He wants ye for himself."

"Was that your doing, Anghus?"

"I put the idea into his head," Anghus admitted. "I do no' ken if it was wise." Meghan nodded. "I thank ye for it, Anghus," she said with renewed vigor. "I would have submitted to ye, fellow child o' the First Coven and friend. I see no need to submit to the Banrigh's menial. Come, let us go. It is near dawn."

They were just walking into the dawn-scented forest when a small brown creature soared out from the trees and landed on Meghan's shoulder. It was a donbeag, the sails of skin between his paws unfurled. He chittered excitedly and rubbed his velvety head under her chin.

"Gita!" the old witch exclaimed. "Why have ye returned?" She stopped and stared into the forest. "Nay!" she cried. "Go back!"

As Anghus spun on his heel, he saw two young people leaping out from behind the shelter of the moss-oaks. There was a young hunchback, wrapped in a heavy cloak and holding a longbow, an arrow cocked and pointing directly at him. The other was a slim figure in a white tam o'shanter and breeches, holding a dagger threateningly.

"Let Meghan go," the hunchback cried, and limped forward a few steps.

"I thought ye said ye were alone," the prionnsa said to Meghan accusingly.

"I thought I was," she answered in chagrin.

"My orders were to capture both the Arch-Sorceress and the leader o' the rebels, named enigmatically the Cripple. Is this he?"

"Nay," Meghan answered. "He is a mere lad. Ye think he has the wit or wiles to lead the rebellion?"

"Let her go, I say!" the young man called again and lifted the bow so the barbed head of the arrow pointed directly at Anghus's heart.

"Bacaiche, put down the bow!" Meghan cried.

Incredulity sprang onto their faces. "But auld mother!" the other called, and Anghus could tell by her voice that she was a lass, although her hair was cropped short and she wore boys' clothes.

"I told ye both to go. Why have ye disobeyed my orders yet again?"

"Ye think we would go so easily?" the girl cried. "We knew ye were in danger. Ye thought we would just leave and let ye be captured?"

"Iseult, do ye no' understand? Ye must care for your babe now; if Bacaiche is killed or captured, the child is our only hope. Ye ken what needs to be done. Why have ye disobeyed my orders?"

"We shall no' let ye be captured by the Awl!" The hunchback hobbled forward a few more steps, his face twisted with hate, the bow raised threateningly. Anghus felt sweat spring up all over his body, and kept his eyes fixed on the arrow.

"Nay! Ye shall let the MacRuraich take me. Have I no' made myself clear?"

"Nay," the girl responded in her oddly accented voice. "I canna let ye sacrifice yourself, Meghan. We need ye. Ye are the Auld Mother, the Firemaker. We must protect ye."

Meghan laughed a little bitterly. "Iseult, I do no' need ye to protect me," she answered gently. "I am more than four hundred years auld and have been looking after myself all that time. Ye endanger me now. I want ye and Bacaiche to go, quickly and quietly. Do ye understand?"

They were puzzled and indecisive. The man with the longbow let the arrow droop until it pointed to the ground, so Anghus heaved a silent sigh of relief. Then the girl suddenly leaped forward with the speed and grace of a striking snake, and he found himself with the wicked-looking dagger against his throat.

"We are going to go now, with Meghan. I shall no' kill ye if ye let her go without trouble."

"Iseult, ye do no' understand," Meghan said quietly. "We could go now, but Anghus will just follow us. No matter where I go, he will follow."

"But we will hide . . ."

"He will find us."

"But . . ."

"Iseult, the only way to stop a MacRuraich on the hunt is to kill him. He has sworn to track me down, and if it takes him a decade, he will do it."

Her arm shortened, and he felt the blade piercing his skin. "Then I will kill him," the girl said matter-of-factly.

"Nay, do ye no' understand I would rather give myself into the Awl's hand than have ye harm him? If I had wanted to escape, ye think I would no' have done so? He is the MacRuraich. A whole land—in fact, two lands—need him and depend on him. He is the last o' his line, and it is a great line, the bloodline o'

Ruraich the Searcher who first found this land for us and marked it on the star map. I have broken bread and eaten salt with him, and I shall no' allow ye to hurt or kill him. So put down your sword, Iseult, or it is angry indeed I shall be."

The dagger dropped. Anghus put his hand to his throat and felt blood. The girl said in a bewildered voice, "But we want to rescue ye, Meghan . . ."

"If there is any rescuing to be done, I shall do it myself. Now, go, Iseult, take Bacaiche and bring him to safety. All my hopes are riding on ye." She disentangled the donbeag from her plait and, despite his attempts to creep back into her arms, handed him over to the girl. "Keep Gita safe for me, Iseult, and guard the pouch well. Head for the rebel encampment as I told ye. Do no' worry about me. I shall see ye again when the time is right. Now I must go and face the Awl. If I am killed, it is your job to find Isabeau and join the three parts. Nothing must prevent ye from finding the Inheritance!" Iseult nodded, and she and the hunchback stepped back in the trees.

"Wait," Anghus said, and to his surprise his voice croaked. He looked down into Meghan's narrow, wrinkled face and said firmly, "I was given your christening robe to hold, Meghan NicCuinn." She understood immediately. She glanced at the young man, still wrapped from throat to toes in the great black cloak. "I see," she said. "Well, then ye ken there is another MacCuinn still living. Take off your cloak, Lachlan."

The young man drew back in protest. Meghan nodded at him. "Anghus knows who ye are, Lachlan, ye canna hide such things from the eyes o' a MacRuraich."