The Shining City (21 page)

They dare no‟ allow ye any greater freedom in case ye call your horse and fly away.”

“Blackthorn is gone,” Rhiannon said in bitter misery.

“I‟d be surprised if that were true,” Isabeau answered. “Familiars are bound tight to their witches, even after death. My guardian, Meghan, had a little donbeag as her familiar, and after she died, the donbeag stayed on her grave for three years before it at last died. Naught we could do would coax it away.”

“I am no witch.”

“Again, I do no‟ believe that is true. One does no‟ have to be trained in the craft and cunning o‟

the Coven to be a witch. It is clear to us all that ye have Talent in abundance. I have heard o‟

your antics. Ye called a flying horse to ye and bound it to your will, ye can see and hear ghosts, ye can listen through walls, ye can pull iron bars out o‟ solid rock with naught more than your will, ye can talk to any horse and, if I am no‟ greatly mistaken, ye can bend others to your will without them even realizing. A forbidden skill, I should add, and one that ye would have to learn to control if ye were ever to be admitted to the Coven. Witches believe all people must have the freedom to choose their own path.”

Rhiannon was startled. She scowled at the Keybearer and said waspishly, “I see ye‟ve been listening to tittle-tattle about me.”

“O‟ course,” Isabeau answered. “I am troubled and intrigued by your case, and so is the Rìgh.

Quite apart from my natural interest in your witch talents, I am most concerned with the effect ye have had on Lewen, who is the son o‟ my dearest friend. He is no longer permitted to visit ye, Rhiannon. I do no‟ believe ye intended to ensorcell him but—”

“What gives ye the right?” Rhiannon flared, jumping to her feet. “How dare ye? Ye canna take him away from me. He‟s mine!”

“He is his own self,” Isabeau said. “People do no‟ own each other.”

Rhiannon made an emphatic gesture of dismissal. “Ye no‟ understand. Owning naught to do with it! He mine, I his. We swore to each other!”

Isabeau shook her head. “I‟m sorry, Rhiannon, but I canna allow him to—”

To Rhiannon‟s utter chagrin, tears were flooding down her face. “Ye canna take him away from me,” she sobbed. “He‟s mine! He‟s all I have!”

“I see,” Isabeau said quietly. “I do no‟ think I understood.”

She was silent for long moments while Rhiannon struggled to bring her face back under control.

Then she said, “Rhiannon, I do no‟ wish to hurt ye more than ye have already been hurt. I can sense deep wounds in ye. I understand that ye love Lewen—”

“And he loves me!”

“—but I canna allow ye to see him alone. I do no‟ think it is good for either o‟ ye when the future is so uncertain. More important, I am afraid ye may compel him to acts that he will regret bitterly hereafter. Ye are half satyricorn, Rhiannon, and ye have been raised by different rules than Lewen. His honor is most important to him. If ye were to compel him to betray all he holds dear—his family, his Rìgh, his allegiance to Eà and the Coven—I fear he would never recover.”

Rhiannon stared at her. “Do ye have some reason to fear he may do so?” she asked at last.

Isabeau regarded her gravely. “My niece, the Banprionnsa Olwynne, fears so. She says he has been in great distress, making wild plans to break ye out o‟ prison and run away with ye. It would ruin him—ye must see that. She says he seems quite mad with despair. I have been to see him, and although I do no‟ fear he has lost his reason, it is quite clear to me that he is acting under strong compulsion.”

Rhiannon was incapable of hiding her pleasure and triumph. She did her best until Isabeau‟s last words; then her feelings got the better of her. “Ye and your compulsion,” she said scornfully.

“Have ye never been in love, that ye think what Lewen feels is some sort o‟ ensorcellment? He loves me, I tell ye, and I love him!”

There was a long pause; then Isabeau said, “I am no‟ such a stranger to love as you suppose. It is true it can seem like madness sometimes, to those who watch from beyond.”

She was quiet a moment longer. Rhiannon forced herself to be silent.

At last the Keybearer looked up, her eyes very blue and luminous in her pale face. “I do no‟ wish to forbid ye seeing each other altogether. I ken how ardent, how impatient young love can be.

Yet I have a responsibility to Lewen too. His studies are suffering badly, and his whole life has been turned upside down and inside out. If he is no‟ careful, he will lose all he has worked so hard to gain. I canna allow that.”

Under the cover of her heavy prison gown Rhiannon‟s foot beat an impatient tattoo. She stared at the Keybearer defiantly, not allowing her desperate hope to show on her face.

“I will allow Lewen to see ye once a week, on his rest day, and then ye must no‟ be alone. Either I or another sorcerer must be with ye at all times. If ye are accompanied by a sorcerer and guards, ye and Lewen may walk in the witches‟ gardens, but ye must no‟ call to your horse. If ye do, I shall ken it, I tell ye now, and this privilege will be revoked.”

“I tell ye, Blackthorn is gone,” Rhiannon said, her sullenness more of a ruse to hide her elation than true truculence.

Isabeau and the owl on her shoulder both regarded her steadily. “A black winged horse has been seen most days, flying about in the early morn.”

Rhiannon clasped her hands together. “Blackthorn has been seen? Here?”

“I have given orders none are to try to catch her and no one at the Tower o‟ Two Moons would dare disobey. I canna speak for the city, though. There is much curiosity about ye and the horse, and there are many who would be glad to capture her. Ye would do well to send her news o‟ that and warn her to keep away from the city.”

“She‟ll be able to hear me? Even from in here?”

“Maybe, maybe no‟. It is hard to mind-speak over water or through stone, even for accomplished witches. I would try from the gardens. If I can, I will walk with ye and Lewen at the week‟s end, and afterwards, I will come back here and set ye some lessons. I understand that ye are bored, cooped up here all day with naught to do. I feel ye will be happier if ye had something to occupy your hands and mind.”

“I doubt it,” Rhiannon muttered, but she could not hide the lifting of spirits she felt at Isabeau‟s words.

“I want ye to work hard at your lessons, Rhiannon. It is important that ye show your judges that ye have submitted to the will o‟ the court and await their judgment. I will tell ye now what I told Lewen last night. I do no‟ think they will hang ye for Connor‟s death, if you have been telling the truth about why and how it happened. It is more likely that ye will be asked to make restitution to the Crown and to Connor‟s family through some kind o‟ bond o‟ service. A lass with your talents and abilities would be wasted swinging at the end o‟ a hangman‟s noose, and Lachlan . . . the Rìgh kens it. If ye wish, at the end o‟ your bond service, ye may come to the Theurgia and we will test ye and see if ye have any potential as a witch. The Coven needs all the Talent it can find, and so, I might add, does the Rìgh. However, ye must learn our ways and abide by them. Ye have rejected your satyricorn past. Now it is time to embrace your future among those of humankind.”

Isabeau ended on a ringing note, and Rhiannon found it hard not to be swept up in her

enthusiasm. Only a lingering distrust enabled her to scowl and say gruffly, “Aye, fine words, but happen I should wait for the verdict afore I make too many plans for the future.”

Isabeau looked disappointed, but she nodded and got up, one hand going up absentmindedly to pet the little owl who had sat so quietly on her shoulder all this time. The owl hooted softly and Isabeau hooted back.

Rhiannon said in a rush, surprising herself, “Ye asked if ye could do aught for me . . .”

“Yes?” Isabeau queried, turning back.

“I want my things. In my pack.”

Isabeau frowned. “I‟m sorry, Rhiannon, but I canna allow that. They have been submitted for evidence in your trial.”

“I do no‟ want my daggers,” she said. “I mean, I do, but I can wait for those if I must. And I ken ye‟ll take away my bonny blue cloak—I‟ve been told so often enough! It‟s not those I want now.

. . .”

“What is it then?” Isabeau asked gently.

“Lewen whittled me a wee charm the night we spent at the Tower o‟ Ravens,” Rhiannon said.

“For me to wear around my neck. Please, I want it.”

“I will ask the captain o‟ the guards,” Isabeau said after a moment. “I canna see any harm, but it is no‟ my decision to make. And Captain Dillon is suspicious o‟ things o‟ magic. If Lewen whittled it for ye, it will have some virtue o‟ enchantment. It is impossible for it no‟ to. I will ask Dillon this evening and let ye ken tomorrow.”

She made a move towards the door but Rhiannon once again detained her with a quick,

impulsive gesture. “Can ye teach me how ye did that, then?” She pointed up at the lantern. “Lit the lantern, I mean, just like that.”

Again she suffered under that cool, searching glance. After a moment the Keybearer asked,

“Why?”

Rhiannon could not meet her gaze. She turned away, mumbling, “They willna leave it on for me.

I canna sleep with it so dark. There‟s no light at all. No starlight, no moonlight . . . and I can hear things . . . hanging over me in the dark . . .”

“Dark walkers?” Isabeau asked with sudden keen interest.

“Nay . . . maybe . . . Fèlice said they do no‟ exist and indeed, none o‟ ye seem to fear them. I have no‟ been able to cut myself since I‟ve been here and they have no‟ come to drink my blood so happen it is true and they are no‟ real. I do no‟ ken. It is no‟ them I fear, anyway, but . . .”

“What?”

“Ghosts,” Rhiannon whispered. She did not look at Isabeau.

Isabeau did not laugh. “These cells are auld, and many cruel things have happened here in the past. If ye are very sensitive, the memories o‟ those events will press upon ye, no doubt o‟ that.

But ghosts strong enough to disturb your sleep . . .” She hesitated, then said very slowly, “The ghosts I feel are all very auld and faint, mere whispers. They are no more than shivers o‟ sadness and fear. . . .”

Rhiannon looked up, startled, meeting Isabeau‟s gaze for the first time. “Ye see ghosts too?”

Isabeau nodded. “Aye, I can. We call it the gift o‟ clear-seeing. If there was a ghost haunting this room, I would expect to be able to feel it too. But all I can feel is shadows, whispers, unhappiness. . . .”

“Nay! This ghost is strong! And angry! She mocks me. She is like ice in my blood, like . . .

lightning. She seizes me in her hands and shakes me.”

Isabeau leaned forward intently. “Is that so? Can ye feel her or hear her now?”

Rhiannon shook her head vehemently. “Nay! She no‟ here. She comes at night. Is gone by day.”

Isabeau put up her hand and stroked her owl thoughtfully. “Are ye sure she is a ghost?”

“She says she wants life again. Says she wants
my
life.”

“What else does she say?”

Rhiannon hesitated and looked away. “She says to free her.”

Isabeau chewed her thumbnail, the first sign of indecision Rhiannon had seen in her. “Who is she, this ghost?” she asked.

Rhiannon shook her head. “I dinna ken. But I have seen her afore, at the Tower o‟ Ravens. The laird o‟ Fettercairn raised her by mistake, and it is him that she haunts.”

“She haunts another too?”

“The laird o‟ Fettercairn. It is him she comes to see, really. She hangs over him and steals his breath away so he wakes choking and afraid. She tells him he will never be free o‟ her.”

“And ye fear her too, this ghost?”

Rhiannon hesitated, for it was difficult for her to ever admit any fear, but when Isabeau raised one eyebrow, she jerked her head angrily.

The sorceress sat still for a long moment, her brows drawn together in thought, her hands folded on her staff. Rhiannon had never met anyone with so much composure. It made her acutely aware of her own restless hands, which she stilled with an effort. Isabeau did not seem to notice the silence, which drew out until it was painful.

At last she glanced up. “I canna help ye learn to conjure flame. I am sorry. I am sure Captain Dillon would no‟ approve o‟ me teaching a prisoner the secrets o‟ summoning fire or any other skills that ye may be able to use to help ye escape.” She smiled a little at Rhiannon‟s scowl and went on, “I am concerned about this ghost, however. The spirits o‟ the dead are usually confined to haunting the place of their death or some other place to which they are tied by intense emotion. To say ye have seen a ghost at the Tower o‟ Ravens and then again here, so many miles away, that puzzles me. It is no‟ unknown for a ghost to choose to haunt a person, particularly their murderer, but ye say ye do no‟ ken her and that she haunts the laird o‟ Fettercairn as well.

Why does she haunt him, do ye ken?”

This time it was Rhiannon‟s turn to sit silent, though she twisted her skirt in her fingers and kicked her foot back and forth until she remembered and stilled her limbs. The sorceress waited patiently, and at last, with a furtive glance about her, Rhiannon muttered, “She comes to him at night and reminds him o‟ the pact they made.”

“What pact was that?”

“She told him she would show him the spell to bring the dead back to life, but that he must promise to raise her first.”

“And how do ye ken this?”

“I was there when they made the pact, at the Tower o‟ Ravens. I was hiding and watching. The laird has been trying to find out how to raise the dead for years and years. That is why he murdered all those people, all those little boys. He wants to raise his brother and his brother‟s son. Who were killed, oh, many years ago. When she . . . when the ghost told him about the spell, he was eager to agree. He was glad to! But now he‟s in prison, and the ghost is angry. He canna raise her from the dead while he is here. So she comes and torments him. She says, „Free me or I‟ll haunt your sleep forever.‟ ”

“How do ye ken what she says to him?”

Again Rhiannon hesitated, twisting her body about, jamming her hands between her knees. “I go there,” she said at last. “I dinna ken how. I go and I listen. Maybe I dreaming. But it dinna feel like dreaming.”