The Witches of Eileanan (34 page)

She also interrupted constantly, so that it was very difficult to tell the answers in the accepted way. More than once, Khan'derin had almost forgotten the respect accorded an Auld Mother, and come close to raising her voice against her. Each time, though, she had remembered, and bitten her tongue and swallowed her words, so they sat in a hard lump in her stomach.

Worst of all, Meghan did not seem to think highly of Khan'derin's prowess with weapons, while Khan'derin was used to praise and admiration for these skills. The odd food they ate only added to her sense of homesickness. Not once since leaving the Cursed Valley had Khan'derin tasted meat. Usually her life revolved around the need to track and hunt, but she thought perhaps they were in too much of a hurry to spare time for hunting. Therefore, when she saw a coney bound away into the undergrowth some days into their journey, Khan'derin raced after it with joy in her heart. She killed it easily with one throw of her
red,
and returned to Meghan proudly, its blood-stained body dangling from her fist. "We shall eat meat tonight," she said.

To her surprise, Meghan turned a look of hatred upon her, taking the furry animal and cradling it in her arms. Without saying a word, she knelt in the shade of a great tree and rocked the dead coney back and forth, keening gently. Gitâ scrabbled out of her pocket, chittering in his throat, and laid a paw on her arm in comfort. After a while, tears wet on her cheeks, Meghan took her small spade from her pack and began to dig. Khan'derin watched in absolute bewilderment, but said nothing. It took Meghan almost half an hour to dig a big enough hole to bury the coney in, then they continued on their way in gloomy silence.

That night, by the campfire, as they ate their potato bread and a thin soup, Khan'derin could barely contain her anger or contempt. She could not believe the old witch had wept over a dead coney and said the sacred rites over its grave. She could not believe she was again eating turnip soup when she had had a fat coney in her fist.

As if sensing her disgust, Meghan said softly, "Iseult, happen I did no' make myself clear. Ye may no' kill while ye are with me. The animals o' the field and forest are under my protection."

"Do ye no' hunt or fish?" Khan'derin asked, puzzled. "What then do ye eat?"

"Roots, nuts, fruit, berries, herbs and leafage," Meghan answered. "Unfertilized eggs, milk, cheese, curds and whey. We eat very well." She began to pack away the remains of the food.

"Why is this? The Gods o' White created animals for people to hunt and to eat. Flesh keeps people alive, makes blood warm and fast."

"Ye will no' kill when ye are with me."

"But what about these enemies of yours? Do ye no' wish me to kill them for ye?"

"Only in defense o' your own life," Meghan responded, clearly troubled.

Khan'derin stared down at the thin soup in her bowl, which she had hardly touched. "Ye ask that I give up meat?"

"Ye will no' notice its absence."

"To eat flesh is part o' the sacred process o' life."

Meghan looked across at her, her hands stilling in their task. "Do ye mean that eating animal flesh is a ritual of your people?"

Khan'derin rocked back and forth on her heels. "Not exactly. We hunt, we eat—this is life."

"With me, ye shall both hunt and eat, but no' animals," Meghan said firmly. Khan'derin looked at her pensively but said nothing more.

That night, Meghan slipped her emerald ring off her finger and cupped it in her hands. The warm light of the fire flickered over it, finding odd glints and shadows in its depths. Meghan stared at it for a very long time, Khan'derin watching her from the shelter of her blankets. When at last she put it back on her finger, the witch's wrinkled old face was grim. Seeing Khan'derin watching her, she explained shortly that she was worried about Isabeau. She had taken the risk of trying to make contact with a friend of hers, who was waiting for the girl at Tulachna Celeste. Three weeks or more had passed since they parted company—more than enough time for Isabeau to make the journey out of the Sithiche Mountains and down to Caeryla. Yet her friend had seen no sign of her. Meghan was anxious, both for the safety of her ward and because she carried part of the Key, whose loss would be disastrous.

"She has a
sheyata
like mine?" Khan'derin asked.

Meghan nodded, but said sharply, "Though it is no' hers, any more than it was yours, Iseult. She carries it for me, for I was afraid I might never return from the dragons' valley. I wish now that I had kept her with me, and the Key too."

"I am Khan'derin! Stop calling me by that name!"

"Your mother named ye Iseult, which in one o' the ancient tongues means 'the fair one.' Ye should be proud o' your name."

"I am proud o' Khan'derin."

"And that is good, for it is the name your grandmother gave ye. I do no' ken what it means, but I do no' wish ye to feel I am asking ye to reject your people. Ye must realize we are traveling into danger. I canna call ye Khan'derin ..." the old witch stumbled over the difficult intonations, "for it is no' an islander name. I would draw attention to us and to ye, and that we must no' do. If I call ye Iseult now, we shall both be used to it by the time we reach civilization, and will no' betray ourselves. Besides, Iseult is much easier to pronounce!"

Khan'derin frowned and bent her head, but the sorceress laughed at her and patted her arm gently. "Ye are no' on the Spine o' the World now, my dear. Ye must try and pretend ye are a simple village girl and I am your granddam, that way no one will look at us twice."

Khan'derin jerked her arm away and rolled herself in her blankets to sleep, repeating the name to herself several times: Is'e'ult, Is'e'ult. She could not understand why Meghan thought it was easier to pronounce than Khan'derin!

The next morning the sorceress woke Iseult well before dawn, before the stars had even begun to fade. "We are approaching the Pass down into Rionnagan," she whispered. "I sense soldiers ahead, so we must travel very carefully. From now on we will travel mainly by night. I have called a friend to guide us."

Rubbing the sleep out her eyes, Iseult looked about her but could see no sign of anyone but themselves. "Where?" she asked.

"In the tree," Meghan responded. Iseult looked up and saw a ghostly shape perched on a branch. "What is that?" Iseult asked, bemused.

"It is a horned owl, and it can see in the dark better than any creature I ken. I called it down so it can show us the safest path. Quickly now, for I sense something ahead, and I would rather be on our feet and ready than rolled in blankets and half asleep."

Iseult was up and ready immediately. They both shouldered their packs and set off through the dark forest, the owl gliding silently before them, calling out every now and then in an eerie wail. They passed an encampment of soldiers, flitting silently through the trees at the edge of the clearing, and reached the valley by the time the sun peeked over the edge of the mountains. Meghan had an odd look on her face, as if smelling the wind. "There is something ..." she began, leaning heavily on her staff. "I think—"

She did not finish her thought, but seemed to make a decision. She called the owl down to her and thanked it, stroking its brindled head. Then she led the way briskly into the forest again, working her way along the shoulder of the hill instead of down the valley as she had planned. Iseult followed without question, though she loosened her weapons in their sheaths.

The forest began to fill with light, and birds called happily. Gitâ clambered out of Meghan's pocket and perched on her shoulder, clinging to her iron-gray plait with one black-tipped paw. Meghan stopped every now and again as if deciding which way to go and, by the time the sun was clear of the ridge, had taken them to the foot of a great cliff, choked with undergrowth.

Gitâ, I think there must be a cave or crevice o' some kind, can ye look for me?

The donbeag scampered down the length of her body and into the thick bushes. After some time, he returned, looking a little ruffled but chittering excitedly.

"Stay here, Iseult!" Meghan ordered, and followed the bounding animal into the undergrowth.

Iseult sat cross-legged on the ground, and began to polish her weapons with a soft cloth, trying not to yawn. She was not used to walking for any length of time, particularly over such rough ground, and she was tired. Although the prides were semi nomadic, spending all spring and summer following the herds along the alpine meadows, Iseult was a Scarred Warrior. They worked all winter to feed the People and guard them against the many dangerous creatures of the Spine of the World. On their wooden skimmers they flew over the surface of the snow, faster than a horse could gallop. When they traveled to other hunting grounds, they rode in sleds pulled by alpine goats, intelligent horned creatures whose hooves were designed for running on hard-packed snow. In spring and summer the Scarred Warriors rested, most in the beautiful valley of the Haven, Iseult alone with an old warlock and a sleeping sorceress in the Cursed Valley. She was used to the exhilarating freedom of skimming the snow-covered hills, not this hard slog through brambly thickets, stones turning under her boots, branches whipping back into her face. As a result her legs and back ached, her feet felt hot and swollen, and the pack weighed heavily on her shoulders.

After waiting ten minutes or so, and almost nodding off to sleep twice, she got to her feet and began to track the sorceress through the forest. It was a surprisingly difficult task, both because the wood witch automatically concealed her trail wherever she went, and because Iseult was used to tracking through snow, not over bare rocks and earth. However, Iseult was an excellent hunter, and at last she tracked the witch to a narrow crack in the side of the cliff. Careful to make no noise, she crouched outside to listen.

"... I have been trying to make my way to ye for months, but I have been followed all the way from Lucescere, and caught twice now. These mountains are swarming with bloody soldiers, Eà damn them! No matter what I did, I could no' seem to get past them. For the past week I have been trapped in this valley, unable to find a way past that thrice-damned encampment." It was a male's voice speaking, and his voice was filled with anger and a kind of blackness that Iseult could not identify.

"So Maya knows o' ye?" Meghan's voice was flat.

"She must. She may no' be sure it is me, if ye understand what I mean, but she must be worried. They laid a trap for me, damn them, and I walked straight into it."

"They must have ken ye would lead them straight to me. I wonder . . . why did they no' just follow ye, keeping a discreet distance?"

"I've lost them several times afore now. It was just cursed bad luck that they picked up my trail again!"

"Things are beginning to make a lot more sense now. I could no' understand why there were so many legions o' Red Guards in the Sithiche Mountains. Even launching an attack on the dragons was no' justification enough for all these soldiers. I knew they did no' ken where I was—if they did, I would have been flushed out years ago! No, no, it makes sense now."

"I would have been with ye weeks ago, as I promised, if only they had no' been so hot on my trail."

"Why did ye no' scry me out and tell me what was happening? I was very worried."

"The Awl has my staff and knife, Meghan. They were taken from me the first time I was captured, and I could no' get them back. I was lucky to get free at all! They must be using them to focus in on me, spying on me as I speak through water. There is no other explanation. So many o' our plans have failed and it could only be that they were listening in."

"Could ye have a spy in your midst?"

"I do no' believe so. I ken all my men, and we have been through hellfire and back together. Besides, we have known for a long time they must have a seer in their ranks, and a powerful seer too."

"Indeed, that is true," Meghan said. "But we are being spied on now. Come in, Iseult, and do no' try and spy on me again. I dislike it very much."

Iseult straightened so abruptly she banged her head on the overhang of the cave. How had the witch known she was listening? She had not made a sound that could have betrayed her. Feeling rather shamefaced, an emotion she did not at all like, Iseult ducked her head and entered the tiny cave. At first her eyes were dazzled and she could see nothing, but then her vision cleared and she saw Meghan crouched by the side of a young man who was leaning up on one elbow and regarding her with an extremely unwelcoming look.

"By Eà!" he exclaimed. "No' ye! Just what I need, that damn nosy girl hanging around. Canna ye leave me alone, lass?"

Iseult's brows rose and she glared back at him, but said nothing, rocking slightly on the balls of her feet.

"I see," Meghan said thoughtfully. "So ye have met my ward Isabeau afore?"

"So she's a ward o' yours, is she? I should have known. Never met anyone who asked so many questions. By Eà's green blood, why did ye no' tell me ye knew my cousin?" he scowled at Iseult, who regarded him thoughtfully, but said nothing.

"Isabeau knows better than to mention my name to anyone," Meghan said frostily.