The Witches of Eileanan (20 page)

Meghan nodded to show her understanding. Khan'derin recomposed herself, and continued in the curious singsong voice: "The Firemaker realized that I was the child o' her grandson, he who was long lost in the land o' sorcerers, and so she took me back with her to the pride and there I was nurtured and taught the way o' the People. This brought much consternation to the Pride o' the Fighting Cat, who had long expected the daughter o' Khan'fella to inherit—"

"Who was she?"

Khan'derin paused for a long moment, eyes downcast, fingers clenched, then said, in a normal tone of voice, "She was my grandmother's sister, rescued from the Gods o' White by our enemy the Fighting Cats. She challenged for the godhead when the Firemaker, my grandmother's mother, died. My grandmother defeated her in tests o' power and the pretender died, showing the Gods o' White had accepted her as sacrifice. Her death should have ended the question, but she had had twin daughters, while my grandmother's daughter died in birth, and she had only a son, my father. One of Khan'fella's daughters was given to the Gods o' White, of course, but one still lives."

"So your aunt—the daughter o' the one who died—she claims the ... inheritance, because she is descended from a straight line o' daughters?" Meghan asked.

Khan'derin flashed her a glance. "Aye."

"But ye are the direct descendant o' the existing Fire-maker, and so ye think ye are the heir?"

"Aye."

"And so the Firemaker is like our banrìgh?"

"I do no' ken. The Firemaker leads and protects the prides, and settles disputes between them. She can bring fire when there is darkness, and she can command the birds and beasts o' the Spine. She can even speak with dragons and, as ye ken, sometimes fly them, as I do, and my father afore me. Her word is law, her decision final. The Auld Mothers and the Scarred Warriors may speak to her, but they may no' cross her or thwart her wish. That is why I am the heir, because the Firemaker wills it so."

"So she is a witch?" Meghan asked, and saw a strange look cross the girl's face.

"I do no' ken much o' ye witches," she responded. "I ken anyone who has power can be taught but that is no' the case with the Firemaker. The Firemaker's daughter will in time become the next Firemaker, and so will her daughter. If there is no daughter to carry on the line, then the eldest daughter o' a son, though that is considered very sad, and has happened only once. There has never been two o' the Red afore; at least, no' since the Red Sorcerers themselves."

"I think I see," Meghan said thoughtfully. "So when your grandmother found ye, it meant there were two contenders for the throne."

"The discovery o' the child o' Khan'gharad brought much consternation to the Pride o' the Fighting Cat—"

"Aye, I got that bit," Meghan said impatiently. "Ye were saying they did no' believe ye were really Khan'gharad's daughter and thought your grandmother was trying to foist an imposter on the prides so the Fighting Cat one would no' inherit. What happened then?"

This time the look of reproach was closer to anger. "The Firemaker showed the prides the dragoneye ring, and as I grew I had to show I could summon fire, for that is something no one but the Firemaker's get can do." Meghan pursed her lips thoughtfully. "On the eve o' my eighth birthday, when the Dragon-Star was again crossing our skies, another dream was given to the Firemaker, and though she shook with fear she obeyed the dream and brought me to the foot o' the ancient road between our land and that o' the dragons. I was instructed to climb the stairway, and so came into the land o' the dragons. At first a fear and a trembling possessed me, for the dragons spoke to me and told me I was to go to the Cursed Valley and live there in the Towers for one half o' every year, to tend the sleeping sorceress and to study in the libraries. I was very afraid, for it was well known that the Towers o' Roses and Thorns are evil, filled with ghosts and wailings. I was also sad because in the spring o' the Dragon-Star the People do travel to the Skull o' the World for the Gathering, to barter and trade, and to organize weddings. There is much feasting and festivities, and I had heard much but never been, for the previous Gathering had been the year I was born. However, the Firemaker said I had a
geas
laid upon me, and that I must accept it, as is fitting. So for the past eight years I have spent the spring and summer months at the Towers of Roses and Thorns, studying and learning."

"And are there ghosts?"

"Indeed, aye, and sometimes very terrible they are too."

"What sort o' ghosts?"

"The ghosts o' rage and grief," Khan'derin replied. "Come, auld mother, it is still a long way to the Towers and we must be there afore sunset."

Meghan sat on the sled, as directed by her companion, who tied her on with long leather straps. Gitâ burrowed deep into Meghan's pocket and stayed there, complaining again about the cold. Khan'derin began to pull the sled, floundering through the thick snow until it began to move. She then jumped onto the front, moving the board down the slope with only the weight of her own body. The snowy horizon flew past, Meghan lost in surprise and admiration.

"This is a long board and no' what I usually use," Khan'derin explained. "We really only use these boards in the spring, when we begin moving down to the summer pastures. It is a good thing ye are only a wee bit, like my grandmother."

"Isabeau would have loved to have known she had a grandmother," Meghan said as the dark mass of the forest sped toward them.

Soon they had to dismount and walk through the slushy snow, but they had descended the mountain in a matter of minutes rather than the day it would have taken them by foot. Khan'derin hid the sled under some bushes and led the way through the patchy snow at great speed. Looking back at Dragonclaw, Meghan was surprised to see that from this direction, she could see two sharp peaks, identical in size and shape. She realized that it must be the perspective which made the smaller peak—hidden behind the bulk of Dragonclaw from the south—appear the same size.

"Legend says that the Red Sorcerers decided to settle in this valley because o' the twin peaks," Khan'derin said over her shoulder. "That is another reason why you call this land Tirlethan, o' course."

"Are twins common among your people?"

Khan'derin hesitated. "No, they're very rare," she answered at last. "It is only the Firemaker who bears twins."

"Among my people, the birth o' twin witches is considered the very best o' luck," Meghan said. "It is so rare for those with true power to be born. Witches rarely marry and rarely have bairns. I believe use o' the One Power makes ye infertile, and certainly your sexual impulses are sublimated into other forces. So for me, the discovery o' another Isabeau is certainly wonderful news."

"I am no' another Is' a' beau," Khan'derin said, pronouncing her twin's name with an odd intonation. "My life has been very different."

"That's true," Meghan said, as the dark branches of the forest closed over their heads. "I would fain Test ye though, if ye do no' mind. I sense power in ye, though I canna tell its nature."

"We will soon be at the Towers," the girl answered, striding ahead, her white-clad form ghostlike in the gloom under the overhanging branches.

The forest was an almost impenetrable barrier of tangled trees and riotous thorn bushes, with no clear path through at all. Meghan doubted she would have been able to find her way through without Khan'derin, despite her woodcraft. Khan'derin lead her under branches and through thickets, clearing a way with the dexterous use of her curved knife and sharp-edged ax. "This forest sprung up after the Towers were deserted. Once they looked directly over the loch to the Cursed Peaks, but now all ye can see from most of the windows is the barrier o' thorns," Khan'derin said. "If ye did no' ken the Towers were here, ye could pass right by without noticing a thing."

Meghan noticed that many of the thorny branches were budding. "Are they roses?"

Khan'derin nodded. "Later on this whole forest will be a mass o' roses, white and red. When spring comes it is always bonny. It is hard then to remember this is the Cursed Valley."

The thorny briars were now so thick that Khan'derin covered her face with a scarf and put her gloves back on. With only her blue eyes showing through a narrow slit between the fur of her cap and the scarf, she looked strangely sinister. Meghan followed her example, wrapping her gray plaid tighter about her and pulling it up over her head to try to protect her face from the vicious branches. It was futile; the thorns dug through the thick material of her clothes and seemed to wind around her ankles and wrists, as if preventing her from going any further.

"The forest does no' recognize ye," Khan'derin said, slashing at the entwining branches with her knife.

Meghan sent out her mind, calming and reassuring, and saw the long tendrils slither away. After that her passage was easier, and she concentrated on sending out encouraging thoughts.

When they finally arrived at the Towers, Meghan did not realize they were there. Khan'derin came to a halt and gestured with her hand. Meghan looked about but all she saw was a great mossy cliff, criss-crossed with thorny briars. Khan'derin laid her hand on the rock and, looking up, Meghan saw it towering above them, the forest pressed up close to its side. Suddenly she realized what seemed like weathering on the rock was in fact elaborate carvings of roses and thorns around a massive stone door. Khan'derin pulled a large, beautifully worked key out of an inner pocket, inserted it into what appeared a mere crevice in a rock wall, and turned it with a visible effort. There was a loud click, then Khan'derin put her shoulder to the door and pushed with all her weight, until at last the door began slowly to groan open.

Within was a great hall, as intricately decorated as the Hall of the Dragons had been. Dust lay thick on the floor, and cobwebs draped in spectacular forms from the towering ceiling. There were a few broken pieces of furniture, but otherwise the hall was empty, showing only echoing spaces between the carved pillars. It was very dark, and Meghan lit a witchlight at the end of her staff so she could see.

At one end of the hall was a spiral staircase, wide enough for seven people to walk abreast, and beautifully decorated with the now familiar device of roses and thorns. Khan'derin lead the way upward, as silent as ever, and Meghan followed, eyes darting this way and that as she tried to take in as much as she could. The Tower was obviously round, the staircase spiraling up its center. They passed two landings, which showed short corridors leading off in four directions. Each corridor had two doors on either side and ended at a tall window that once would have showed views to the north, south, east and west. She recognized the design, since the Tower where she had lived most her life had been built to a similar design—the crossed circle, a symbol of great power.

On the third floor, Khan'derin left the staircase. Here, rather than the four short corridors identical in length and design that Meghan was used to, there were only three, with the one to the east a great hall set with high windows on either side. Looking out of the northern windows, Meghan realized with a start that the hall was built across the river, leading to another seemingly identical Tower. The water glimmered darkly beneath them, clogged with branches.

"Look out the other side," Khan'derin said, and Meghan complied. She saw that the river flowed north from a small loch, rather like the one in her secret valley home. Once the Towers would have been reflected in its waters, but the loch was now overshadowed by the forest, the sunset sky barely visible through the overarching branches.

"Which Tower is this?" she asked, as they came to another spiral staircase and began climbing upward.

"I do no' really ken," Khan'derin replied, frowning. "I do no' think one is o' Roses and one o' Thorns. I think they are both, but I'm no' really sure."

At last they reached the top floor, and Khan'derin opened a door on the eastern passage, standing back so Meghan could see inside. At first glance the room seemed full of strands of silver silk, shifting and glinting in the light from her staff. Closer examination showed a nest in the center of the room, spun from the silken strands.

"She sleeps," Khan'derin said, and slipped into the room, gathering the strands in her hands and patting them in place against the soft sides of the nest. "Do no' worry, ye will no' wake her."

Meghan gathered her courage and stepped into the room. She had to push her way through the great swathes of silk, but soon was able to see into the large nest. Ishbel was sleeping within. Her frail face and form were gently cocooned in the great lengths of what Meghan now recognized as her hair, grown to impossible lengths and as silver as a cobweb shining in the sun. Tears started to her eyes, and she felt Khan'derin take her hand and lead her out to the hall.

"Come visit my quarters and I will make ye tea," Isabeau's twin said in her cool voice, and led Meghan to another room like the one Ishbel had been sleeping in, though furnished roughly with a bed, a chest and a chair. With a wave of her hand Khan'derin lit the candles, as thick as Meghan's forearm, and they each studied the other by its light.

"The sleeping sorceress is someone close to ye?" Khan'derin asked at last. It was the first question she had asked.