Dragonclaw (6 page)

‘Foolish lass,' Meghan whispered. ‘Let us hope ye've done no harm.'

Peeping out from the shelter of Meghan's arm, Isabeau saw that the jongleurs were picking up their cloaks and preparing to leave, still talking and laughing, with Dide high on his father's back. The quiet man was still staring at them, his face grim and thoughtful, while the minstrel tried to kiss the maid and the innkeeper clattered pewter mugs together as he cleared the table. As the jongleurs crowded out the door, Dide's father looked over to her and winked, and Dide himself waved an enthusiastic goodbye.

Meghan hustled Isabeau out the back door and into the stableyard. ‘We must go at once, and quickly,' she said.

‘Leaving, mistress?' a voice said from the shadows. ‘It's late to be taking the wee lass out into the town. Do ye no' have a bed?'

Meghan turned slowly, her back bent almost double. ‘Och, thankee, kind sir,' she said in a cracked whine. ‘But I mun take the wee lass home to her ma. I shouldna stayed so late but the fire was so warm …'

‘But surely ye do no' bide in these parts. I've never seen ye afore,' the voice said, and the man moved forward a little so the dim light from the half-open door fell across his face.

‘Aye, sir,' Meghan said in her cracked voice. ‘The Collene family has bided in these here parts for many a long year.'

‘But surely that red hair is no' what you'd expect to find in these parts,' the man said smoothly, and Isabeau was conscious of a sudden fear.

‘Och, the reds be from her granda,' Meghan cackled. ‘He didna bide here. He came from the west to jump the fire; a good man he was, if a wee hot-tempered. But ye mun excuse us, sir, the lassie's ma will be worrying.' And without waiting for an answer, she hobbled out of the gate into the dark night beyond, then immediately picked up her skirts and ran nimbly across the street and into the alley beyond. ‘Hush, Beau,' she cautioned. ‘Say nothing. Do no' move.'

Obediently Isabeau crouched by her side as the man came out the gate in a hurry and paused, peering down the street as if to look for them. They watched in silence until at last he shrugged and went back inside; then Meghan shook out her skirts and dragged Isabeau to her feet. ‘Ye'll be fetching water and cutting wood for a month after this, lassie!'

The old witch and the little girl then had to escape the town as quickly and unobtrusively as they could, for within minutes the Red Guards were searching the streets for them. Since Caeryla had only three gates set in its high stone walls, each guarded closely, they had to slither down a sewer, much to Meghan's disgust. They landed in the loch below with a faint splash and clambered out with dripping hair and skirts and a rather apprehensive glance at the mist-wreathed waters, for the loch of Caeryla was famous for its
uile-bheist
, a mysterious serpentlike creature which often snatched those unwary enough to stand on its shores or swim in its waters.

That night they walked until dawn, both wet and shivering with cold, at last finding cover in the forests to the east. Meghan had still not allowed Isabeau to rest, even though it was Candlemas, and so Isabeau's eighth birthday. In the fresh dawn, she lit a fire, and the two of them performed the Candlemas rites as Isabeau had done every year since she was born. This year was different, though, for once the rites were completed, Meghan did not douse the fire and allow them to rest, but tested Isabeau on her witchcraft skills and knowledge. The tests went on for hours, despite Isabeau's exhaustion, and the little girl feared she was being punished for her demonstration of power in the inn. At last Meghan allowed her to sleep, but Isabeau's dreams were fitful and filled with nightmares.

When she woke that afternoon, she found to her delight that the caravan of jongleurs had chosen the copse of trees to camp in as well. Dide was there, impatient for Isabeau to wake so they could play again, with his little sister Nina tumbling about the copse without a stitch of clothing on, her hair almost as red as Isabeau's. For seven days they stayed in the shelter of the forest, Isabeau having the time of her life with so many playmates. Meghan seemed to have made friends too, with Dide's grandmother Enit, a frail woman with a hunched back and hands like claws, and a sweet, melodious voice. The two old women spent a great deal of time huddled over the fire, reading manuscripts and arguing about spells, or else disappearing into the woods with the grandmother's familiar, a blackbird with one white feather above his left eye.

Isabeau was surprised to discover Meghan and Enit knew each other from old days, before the Day of Betrayal, since the wood witch had not demonstrated any sign of recognition when they saw the jongleurs in Caeryla. Isabeau was used to Meghan's mysteries, though, and so she took advantage of her preoccupation to have the best fun she had ever had. At the end of the seven days, they made the long journey back to the secret valley, this time avoiding the Pass and its guard of soldiers, making the difficult climb up the cliffs of the Great Divide instead. Isabeau was heartbroken to leave Dide, and Meghan seemed sad to leave Enit, her face as grim and shadowed as Isabeau had ever seen it. So silent and unhappy was Meghan on the long journey back that Isabeau was afraid she was still angry at her. When Isabeau stammered out another apology, Meghan merely looked at her absently, and said, ‘Och, that's right. I'd forgotten,' which merely alarmed Isabeau more, for Meghan never forgot a trespass.

It had been another year before she and Meghan again ventured out of the Sithiche Mountains, and never again had they gone any further south than the highlands.

 

When Isabeau woke, she lay still for a moment, wondering why she should have such a feeling of delightful anticipation. Then she remembered and her toes curled with pleasure. Bounding out of bed, she threw on her clothes and clattered down the stairs calling, ‘Time for a swim afore breakfast?'

Meghan, who hardly ever seemed to sleep, was stirring the porridge while Seychella leant against the wall, chatting. ‘If ye're quick,' her guardian replied. ‘Take Seychella, I'm sure she'd fain freshen up.'

Seychella gave a look of dismay. ‘Swimming!' she exclaimed. ‘Dinna ye hear the Fairgean be returning to the lochan?'

‘I hardly think we need worry,' Meghan said with a dryness in her voice that Isabeau knew well. ‘The Fairgean need salt water, no' fresh. Besides, no Fairge could leap that waterfall, and there's no other way in for them.'

‘Well, if ye be sure …' The black-haired witch sounded doubtful, but she followed Isabeau up the ladder. They squeezed out of the tiny trapdoor at the highest level and, hand over hand, crossed the rope-bridge that hung between the trees, Seychella laughing and joking about Meghan's obsession with secrecy. Isabeau only smiled. She was used to her guardian's idiosyncrasies and, though she often groaned at the inaccessibility of the tree-house, knew it was a matter of safety. Even one of Meghan's books was enough to condemn them both to death, not to mention the crystal ball, the jars of herbs and powders, the ancient maps and precious oils. Magic was dangerous, the Rìgh said. Witches were evil, and use of the One Power strictly forbidden. Isabeau had herself seen the Rìgh's Decree Against Witchcraft pinned on the front door of the mayor's houses in one of the highland villages. She had heard how the Red Guards were still having witch-hunts through the countryside, dragging out any woman or man who was suspected of witchcraft and taking them back to Dùn Gorm for trial. Meghan was full of pity for those taken. ‘They could have no power, or only a wee, if they were taken so easily,' she would say as they climbed the steep paths home. ‘A true witch would escape those bullies without even lifting a finger.'

Isabeau had her first demonstration of the wind witch's power when Seychella lightly bounded to the ground from a branch of the tree, rather than clambering down the great length of the trunk as Isabeau had done. Isabeau, who had always thought herself as agile as a squirrel, had let herself down easily enough, but Seychella simply leapt off the branch, landing lightly some forty feet below.

‘How did ye do that?' Isabeau demanded, but the witch only amused herself by calling the wind so it whipped Isabeau's long hair around her face and into her mouth.

The water of the loch was, as always, icy cold. Seychella floated on her back, staring up Dragonclaw, her hair floating out behind her like a mass of weeds. ‘Meghan really has found herself a magic valley, has she no'?'

Isabeau was not quite sure what the witch meant, but she nodded. ‘It is bonny.'

The witch looked over at her, and idly turned and swam a few strokes. ‘And ye were born here, were ye no'?'

‘I think so,' Isabeau replied uncertainly. ‘I ken I was found here. I was only a few weeks auld, so I suppose I must have been born here.'

‘Some shepherd's babe, I ken. There be no-one else crazy enough to spend much time on these slopes, bonny though they be.'

Isabeau said nothing. She supposed it was true that her parents must have been shepherds or herders, yet she preferred her own highly coloured imaginings. Her red hair was so unusual, and the mystery of her birth so intriguing, Isabeau had woven several complicated tales to explain her abandonment. Her favourite was that she was heiress to a great estate, abandoned by a wicked uncle who wished to inherit in her stead. It explained everything quite satisfactorily, and completely discounted the possibility that her parents may not have wanted her.

‘Can ye show me some more o' your magic?' she asked. ‘Something really amazing.'

Seychella lay back dreamily, moving her hands lightly in the chilly water. She said nothing, but Isabeau felt the temperature drop as the witch drew upon the One Power. At first the placid surface of the loch began to quiver, the reflection of the mountains breaking apart and dissolving. Cats' paws of wind rippled towards them and the branches of trees began to sway. Faster and faster the wind rose, until clouds were scudding madly overhead and the branches thrashed wildly. Petals swirled from the flowered bushes, scattering in the wind like snowflakes. It became colder and colder, and Isabeau shivered and sank lower in the water. Suddenly a giant thunderclap sounded, and lightning flashed down, splitting one of the ancient giants in the forest so it fell with a roar, dragging other trees down and making the ground shake. Isabeau was overawed. She had never seen such a powerful display of magic. All the tricks and games she played with the One Power were nothing in comparison to this. Even Meghan's occasional demonstrations were insignificant compared to those of Seychella.

‘Teach me,' Isabeau begged. ‘How do ye do that?'

‘Playing with the weather is dangerous,' Seychella said wearily. ‘No' for lassies.'

Indignation filled Isabeau. ‘I'm no' a bairn any more!'

‘Ye need to understand how the weather works,' Seychella said. ‘Bringing a storm is particularly hard—ye have to reach deep into the winds o' the world and change their shape and direction. Making lightning be the hardest o' all, particularly for a woman, for it involves the Power o' Fire as well, and fire is more a male force. I find it quite exhausting. Can ye listen to the wind?'

Isabeau swam closer. ‘I dinna ken … I'm no' sure …'

‘Do ye ken when it's going to snow?' Seychella asked.

Isabeau nodded. Sixteen years in the Sithiche Mountains was enough to teach anyone the weather's signs. She could tell when rain or snow were coming, or when the wind was rising.

‘Good. That's the start. Once ye can listen to the wind it's only a few wee steps from there. Ye must exert your will on the wind. Tell it when to come and when to go. Ride it in your mind. Ye'll begin to see how it flows.'

Isabeau was beside herself with excitement. Meghan never told her things like this. She only ever said ‘listen' and ‘watch' as if those words held all the mysteries of magic.

‘Ye may no' be able to do it, though,' Seychella said dismissively. ‘Few witches ever do. Ye must ken that each individual's Talent is different. I can do things no other witch I ken can do, while Meghan … well, all witches must find their own limitations. Often ye find things out by accident. I knew air to be my element, since I always learnt those things faster and more easily than any other, back when the Theurgia still existed. I did no' realise I could whistle up the wind though, till I was much aulder than ye. I was in a boat on a loch when a big storm blew up. We all would've died if I hadna told the wind to go away.'

Isabeau, listening raptly, was suddenly aware of Meghan's bent figure waiting on the shoreline. Her guardian's face was grim and angry. Isabeau swam for shore, wondering anxiously what she had done wrong this time. It was not her, though, but Seychella that Meghan glared at.

‘Seychella, did ye summon up that lightning?' she asked.

Isabeau was surprised at the wind witch's chagrined look. ‘Aye, Meghan,' she responded. ‘I was just demonstrating a wee power—'

‘Seychella, ye were the one who told me the mountains are filled with Red Guards. How could ye take such a risk? That lightning would have been seen many miles away … lightning out o' a blue sky! Any Red Guard worth his shillings would come and investigate that.'

‘Do no' fraitch, Meghan, ye ken there's only the one pass into this valley and that's so well concealed ye'd have to ken where it is to find it. Besides, these mountains are a complete maze! Any Red Guard trying to find us would spend months backtracking out o' all the deadend valleys. And the lightning could have struck anywhere, how are they meant t'ken?'

Meghan pointed to the jagged spire of Dragonclaw cutting into the sky. ‘All they need to ken is that it occurred near Dragonclaw,' she said wryly. ‘No matter where they are that bloody mountain will lead them straight to us!'

Seychella was not abashed for long. Isabeau spent most of the day with her, listening to her stories of the grand days of the Coven, when witches helped rule the land and were respected by lairds and courtiers. Seychella talked a lot about the Theurgia at the Tower of Two Moons. Isabeau would have been sent there as a child, Seychella said, as soon as she had demonstrated any power. She would have learnt the basic laws of desire and will, and been taught many useful Skills.