The Witches of Eileanan (45 page)

"How do ye ken all this?"

"I ken my master well. He lived with us for many years. I can contact him and he can contact me, as long as we each are near water. Each dawn I try and reach him, but lately he has been silent. It troubles my heart."

"Who is your master?"

"Have ye heard o' the Cripple?"

"No."

"Well, I am surprised. Though ye are a creature o' the forest, I s'pose, and so happen may no' have heard o' him. He is the leader... o' the rebels. He's the one who masterminds any move against the evil Banrìgh and her Red Guards; who rescues captured
uile-bheistean,
or witches, even silly auld skeelies or cunning men who have made too much trouble and are accused o' witchcraft because o' it. Slowly we gather strength, slowly our plans mature; soon a new weft shall be threaded."

"And then what will happen?"

"That is the question, indeed. If things go to plan, we shall depose the evil Banrìgh, and go in search o' the Lodestar. Once that is in our hands, we shall drive the Fairgean away from our shores, and humans and fairy can live in harmony again."

"But are the Fairgean no'
uile-bheistean
too? They were here long afore the Great Crossing, surely, just like the tree-changers an' the nisses."

Dide's olive skin slowly colored until even the tips of his ears were red. "I suppose that be true. The Fairgean never signed the Pact o' Aedan, though, did they? And they've tried to overthrow us for a thousand years."

"But Carraig was their land, was it no'? Originally, I mean. At least, that is what I remember being taught, by both my ma and pa. All that north coast, Siantan too. They need to come to land to give birth and raise their bairns, and those rocky shores were their home."

"They're brutal, though, Lilanthe. They have never agreed to any pact. They just keep fighting until one or the other o' us are all dead. We beat them off, and years later they come again, hordes o' them."

"I wonder where they give birth to their babes now?" Lilanthe mused.

"On the shores o' Carraig, no doubt, after killing all the Yedda, and virtually wiping out the entire MacSeinn clan! They say there is only the lord himself left, and his son and a handful of retainers. And did ye never think it was rather suspicious, the way the Rìgh's Decree Against Witchcraft wiped out the Yedda, which made it
so
easy for the Fairgean to invade Carraig?"

"No," Lilanthe said.

There was a pause, Dide's color high, his black eyes sparkling. Then his temper dropped a little, and he said, a little gruffly, "Anyway, the point is, there's a new thread being woven into the tapestry. I am no' your enemy, I'm your friend. I want to help ye."

"How?"

Again Dide was a little disconcerted. "I... do no' ken. I suppose I mean, help all
uile-bheistean,
free them from the Fairy Decree, renew the Pact o' Aedan."

"That's wha' Isabeau wanted to do too," Lilanthe murmured under her breath.

The effect of her words was electrifying. Dide sat bolt upright, and said, "Ye ken Isabeau? Red hair, blue eyes? Always laughing?"

"Aye! Ye ken her too?"

"I did many years ago, when we were bairns. I thought I saw her again, recently, in Caeryla. I hope it wasna her."

"Isabeau was heading toward Caeryla. She was meant to meet someone there—"

"Well, I hope it wasna Isabeau! Though when I called her, she looked round ..." Dide's face was suddenly shadowed.

"Why? Wha' happened? Is she all right?"

"Well, if it was Isabeau, she's no' all right at all. She was on trial for witchcraft. They were going to feed her to the
uile-bheist
o' the loch. We rode out just afore sunset, and all anyone in Caeryla could talk about was the red-headed witch. Her execution was going to be the spectacle o' the month. Everyone was going!"

Lilanthe scrambled to her feet. "Och, no! No! She canna have been caught. Why did ye no' help her? Why did ye no' do something?"

"Wha' could I do?" Dide asked. "There was only me, and she was being escorted by a whole troop o' soldiers, no' to mention most o' the townsfolk o' Caeryla. I wasna even sure it was her, I just saw the red hair—"

The tree-shifter burst into an agony of crying, and turned and ran into the forest. Rather alarmed, and feeling a little teary himself, Dide ran after her, but Lilanthe had disappeared into the forest. That night, he helped pack up the caravan with a heavy heart, and though he cast out his mind anxiously, there was no trace of Lilanthe.

For three days the jongleurs traveled along the green road, following the meandering stream and camping every night by its still pools. Dide was in a quandary. He dared not show his fever of anxiety, for his long absences and abstracted silences were already a cause for teasing from the other jongleurs, and he must always be careful to appear like the others, unless they guess his traitorous secret. The penalty for being involved with the rebels was death, and Dide wanted no suspicion attached to him or his father's caravan. In addition, the chance the witch who had been executed in Caeryla might be Isabeau distressed him, for although it had been eight years since they had met, he had always remembered her and wondered if they would meet again.

Every morning he slipped away to go and stare into one of the pools in case his master should be trying to reach him, or in case Lilanthe returned. On the fourth day, he watched the dark waters shimmer into silver with the growing light without any sense of pleasure at its beauty, when he became aware of another, alien consciousness. With a spurt of joy he looked up and there was Lilanthe, her green hair knotted, her face streaked with mud, her eyes almost closed from crying.

"I want to join ye," she said. "I want to be a rebel too." Thoughts tumbled madly in Dide's mind. His initial reaction was to tell her not to be silly, but part of Dide's job was to find his master new recruits, particularly those with magic of their own. He also recognized the depth of Lilanthe's grief, though he did not fully understand it. "Then I'd better take ye to meet my granddam," he said. "She'll ken wha' to do."

Maya the Ensorcellor

Maya sat in her room, staring out at the sunset, trying to control the little shivers that were running over her body. It was time to contact her father, and the prospect filled her with fear. It was useless to remind herself she was Banrìgh of Eileanan, the most powerful woman in the country. It was useless to tell herself she was far from her father here in Rhyssmadill. The very thought of having to speak to him filled her veins with terror.

Maya's father was a man to be feared. He came from a race of warriors, proud of strength and contemptuous of weakness, their lives circumscribed by long-held traditions and strict magics. Even though it was many years since Maya had lived with her father, having been handed to the Priestesses of Jor when little more than a toddler, the very thought of him was enough to make her bowels clench. Sani knew this, and brought out the antique mirror with a malicious glint in her tiny pale eyes.

The fish-tail mirror was very old, the metal now green with tarnish, although the oval surface was still bright. Not a single scratch marred its polished face, and when Maya held it between her hands and stared at her own reflection, her face took on a mysterious beauty that seemed somehow alien.

Using the mirror as a focus, as Sani had taught her, Maya stared into her deceptively serene face and called out to her father. His many names and titles fell off her tongue in stilted, musical phrases. On and on she sang, and her reflection sunk away beneath cloudy ripples. Still she called to her father and, through the distorting veil, his face approached, dark with fury. He was roaring, his mouth wide open, his tusks gleaming yellow.

"Why have you not contacted me before?" His song sounded more like the pound of breakers on an icy shore than the delicate lap-lap of Maya's voice.

She tried to strengthen the timbre of her melody. "It was not safe."

"Not safe! Are you not in control there? Are you not Banrìgh?"

"The palace is full of mutinous lords and spying servants. I could not risk exposure at this time. The tighter my grip, the more suspicious they become."

"Weak and foolish as all women are. When shall I have my way? What is the news?"

"The Fairy Decree is working its will, and fairy creatures of all kinds have been surrendered to us. Most are useless, but some .. . some have proved of use. We have had many rebels and witches revealed to us, for they have pity on the fairies and betray themselves unwittingly. The biggest coup was discovering another rebel stronghold in Rurach, and wiping the entire rats' nest out. The fools had returned to the Tower, and of course I had kept a watch on it. Blèssem and Aslinn are completely under our control as ye ken, and although Rurach and Tireich remain a little recalcitrant, it really does not matter, since we prevail on other fronts."

"And what of our ancient enemies, the dragons?"

Maya would have liked to look away but she dared not. "The dragons have risen."

Her father threw back his head and roared again, and the mirror was filled with the unsavory sight of his tongue and tusks. "So be it," he said at last. "Each time we have struggled to regain what is rightfully ours, the dragons have set their will against us. I am displeased, though,
daughter."
He spat the note out with contempt and, indeed, for him to remind her of her lowly status was to insult her. To him and his kind, daughters were mere pawns in the games of power they all played so relentlessly. If times were hard, it was the girl babies who were drowned so there would be more food for the boys. If a female child survived to adulthood, she had no control over her future, being mated to whatever male her father or brother favored at the time. Manliness was proved by displays of brutality and strength, and the dividing up of food, space and women decided by manliness. Maya had only escaped by a strange twist of fate which had seen her given to the Priestesses of Jor, who recognized power in her and thought to use it for their own ends.

"You have failed," he continued. She did not allow her expression to change or her gaze to falter, but she could not prevent the sweat from springing up on her forehead. "You were supposed to flatter the dragons with those glib and slippery words you
women
use so well. You were meant to send them fine gifts and smooth promises until their guard was relaxed, and then fall upon them with the poisoned spears. What did you do wrong?"

Maya fixed her eyes upon his, and said smoothly, "A contingent of guards, searching out witches in the White-lock Mountains, panicked when a dragon came down to investigate their presence. They had their poisoned spears with them. I am sure His Highness would be glad to know the dragonbane worked just as he predicted."

"Of course, it worked, fool. And do not expect me to believe the Circle of Seven have risen merely because a dragon was killed. Accidents do happen. Such a thing could easily be explained by the men succumbing to dragon-fear, as they so cowardly do. The dragons know they cannot come too close—"

"The dragon was female, and with child."

He snorted with disgust and scorn. "I suppose that would make their cold blood boil, they have such strange notions. Why did you not send a conciliatory troop to the dragons' valley? Once they had let your heralds in, you could have fallen on them then."

"We did," Maya stuttered, "but they would not accept our heralds."

"Not accept your heralds! Not accept the heralds of the Rìgh of Eileanan? You must have insulted them grievously indeed. No, there is something you are not telling me. What of those other sea-urchin spikes in our flesh? What of the Arch-Sorceress? What of her?"

Despite herself, Maya licked her lips and swallowed. "We have reason to believe the Arch-Sorceress Meghan NicCuinn reached the dragons before us and spoke against us. We had tracked her down to her secret hideaway beneath the shadow of Dragonclaw, and there surprised her and some of her Coven in their filthy secret rites. Some of the witches were killed, though they called on the powers of earth and fire. The Arch-Sorceress escaped, though we have caught and executed one we suspect to be her apprentice, a powerful witch. We are now hard on the Arch-Sorceress's trail, and confident we shall soon have her by the heels."

"Oh yes, confident. Confident as you've been before. Nigh on twenty years you've been confident of destroying her, and I've seen nothing but empty words. So she spoke to the dragons against you, and now the dragons are risen. By Jor! That I should be forced to rely on a puny female as my instrument! Pluck out this spur for me, or else, by Jor, I'll have your blood!"

"Aye, Your Highness." Maya bowed her head, and tried to keep her face serene.

"And what of the Cripple? I notice you say nothing about him. I hope you have not failed me there too?"

"We did locate the leader of the rebels in the mirror, using his witch knife and staff, and so were able to spy on him and know where he was traveling, sure he would eventually lead us to Meghan. Many times he did trick and deceive us, and each time we drew the net tighter about him."