Miss Ellerby and the Ferryman (15 page)

Isabel frowned, for that thought had not occurred to her.
Mrs. Grey had existed in Isabel’s life as a model of respectability
and contentment. As such it had been a particular shock to her to
discover her aunt’s secret nature, and the little green companion
of whom Isabel had never previously seen so much as a hair. She
could not doubt that it had been a source of considerable strain to
her aunt to conceal these things from York society; nor did she
doubt the necessity. Household brownies may be common enough in
some parts of England, and the people were by no means unfamiliar
with the fae of Aylfenhame; but for a lady of quality to openly
practice witchery, and keep with her such a peculiar animal as her
aunt’s Vershibat, could not be considered respectable. As tolerant
as most folk were of the fae, there remained strict notions in most
minds: the fae were other. It would not do for one of their own to
become too deeply entangled with them.

If
her aunt had discovered the peculiarities of her heritage at
Isabel’s own age, well, she had made the only choice Isabel would
have expected her to consider: she had stayed in England, married
suitably, and concealed her witchery. Isabel herself had consented
— barely — to visiting Aylfenhame, but she had no expectation but
that her visit would soon come to an end, home she would go, and
proceed to follow much the same path in life as her aunt. What else
could possibly make any sense?

But
Tafferty spoke truly. Isabel remembered a passing comment of her
aunt’s, which had faded from her mind in the confusion that had
followed: I have had my fill of duty.

Perhaps she did regret some part of her decision. But what
did that mean for Isabel?

‘What
did you wish to teach me?’ Isabel said at last.

Tafferty’s growling stopped, and her tail flicked once — a
gesture Isabel was learning to interpret as one of approval. ‘Good.
Thy aunt said thou would’st make a suitable choice, but I was
beginnin’ t’ doubt.’

Isabel was
momentarily tempted to protest that she had but asked a question,
and had not intended to grant permission. But she held her peace.
It could do her no harm to learn a little.

‘Now
then,’ said Tafferty, settling herself comfortably before Isabel.
‘A witch has a number o’ Powers t’ choose from. There’s Glamour,
the art o’ Seemin’, which we have talked of before. Thou mayst make
any one thing seem like another — or hide it away entire. Watch.’
Tafferty slowly disappeared from sight, bit by bit, until only her
tail remained. Then she faded back into view — and changed,
abruptly, into the semblance of an ordinary house cat, a fat
creature with black fur and white patches.

‘All
manner o’ fine uses fer that, but not what we need now,’ she
decided, changing back into herself.

Isabel thought, with an inward sigh, of her only previous
lesson in witchery, and her utter failure to entice one fruit to
resemble another. ‘I have seen something of Glamour before,’ Isabel
offered. ‘When I first met Aubranael, it was in England, and he was
wearing the semblance of a human man. But it was not of his
making.’

Tafferty licked her lips. ‘Aye. Thou mayst impose a Glamour
upon another, but I advise thee to do that only wi’ their
permission.’

Isabel flushed at the very idea of changing someone’s
appearance without their consent! ‘Of course, I could not think of
anything else.’

‘The
time may come,’ said Tafferty cryptically. ‘Anyroad, the second
Power, which has no right-an’-proper name, may be called Craftin’
fer our purposes. Wi’ that, thou mayst concoct all manner o’ useful
odds an’ ends. The most difficult an’ rare o’ these would be what
thy folk call fairy ointment. Wi’ such a magic in thy hands, thou
mayst see through any form o’ Glamour, on thy own self or others.
But that… eh. Thou mayst live thy whole life through without
discoverin’ the secret o’ that. Tis a rarity indeed.’

Isabel nodded, intrigued. Fairy ointment! She had heard of
such a thing in stories, but had not previously imagined that it
might exist in truth — nor that she might, someday, possess the
power to make it.

‘An’
the third Power,’ Tafferty continued, ‘is what I will today call…
Cursin’. Rightly Enchantin’. Bestowin’ somethin’ good or somethin’
bad upon a person as ‘as pleased or vexed thee, as thou wishest.
Since today we are dealin’ wi’ a tiny bein’ as ‘as vexed us both,
we are goin’ t’ start wi’ a Curse.’

Isabel glanced at Pinch, troubled. Irritating he may be, but
a Curse? She had experience of Curses. Lihyaen had been afflicted
with a terrible one, and so was the Ferryman. Could she be
responsible for laying such an appalling punishment upon Pinch — or
any living thing? She opened her mouth to say some of this, but
Tafferty forestalled her.

‘I
know what’s goin’ through thy mind,’ she said with a touch of
asperity. ‘The Curses thou art thinkin’ of are somethin’ far out o’
the ordinary way. Strong magics indeed, an’ Evil. I very much doubt
it is within thy power t’ lay such a Curse, nor will it ever be —
even if thou hadst the desire t’ do so, which of course thou dost
not. All we are thinkin’ of today is a whisper of a Curse, easily
laid and easily dispelled.’

Isabel nodded doubtfully. ‘Very well. What must I
do?’

‘Fix
thy attention upon yonder green-clad pigeon-egg an’ think of
somethin’ bad thou would’st like t’ see happen t’ him.’

Isabel looked up at Pinch. He was still ensconced upon Sir
Guntifer’s shoulder, riding up there like a little king, and flatly
ignoring the beauty of the tall trees on either side. His arms were
crossed, his face set in a scowl, and his pipe stuck firmly in his
mouth as he puffed madly upon it. The odd, spicy scent of the smoke
drifted down to tease Isabel’s nose.

‘I
cannot,’ she said. ‘Foolish he may be, and disruptive, but I could
not wish ill upon him.’

Tafferty’s tail lashed. ‘Thou art thinkin’ too big,’ she
said. ‘Just a wee, tiny calamity will do.’

Isabel set her lips and shook her head. ‘I wish calamities
upon no one,’ she said, mildly but firmly. ‘No matter how minor it
may be, nor how foolish the target.’

Tafferty growled. ‘All right, I will do it.’

Isabel reached out to stop her, but Tafferty was too quick.
As Isabel watched, the pipe flew out of Pinch’s grip as though
propelled by some unseen force, and — to her horror — something
began sewing shut his mouth. Silken stitches blossomed rapidly
around his lips, until his mouth was firmly closed and he could not
possibly utter another word. Pinket, hovering near to Sir
Guntifer’s left ear, awoke and began weaving about in the air in a
silent display of alarm.

‘Now
then,’ Tafferty said in a placid tone, wholly unaffected by the
desperate antics of the horrified pixie and wisp. ‘A Curse must
come wi’ an out, see? As must an Enchantment — the positive kind.
Thou canst not expect the target o’ thy wishes or curses t’ suffer
under ‘em forever, especially when they’s the harmful sort o’ kind.
Hence the Ferryman: His freedom is won if the condition is met,
that o’ findin’ his name. In this case, I ‘ave imposed a simple
condition fer a simple offence: Pinch must be sorry fer his
irritatin’ behaviour, an’ then he may have his mouth
back.’

‘But,’ Isabel cried in horror, ‘how is he to express his
contrition if he cannot speak?’

There
was silence for a moment, then Tafferty said, ‘Ah. Yes, I ‘ave
contrived this on purpose-like, so thou mayst see the importance o’
thinkin’ carefully through thy wishes an’ curses.’

Isabel was by no means convinced it had been deliberate, and
her heart ached for Pinch. The pixie was by turns furious and
terrified, and his writhings and stampings finally attracted Sir
Guntifer’s attention. The tree-giant stopped, and stared with
amazement at the gyrations of the previously placid pixie. ‘What
manner of trickery is this?’ he said in his booming
voice.

‘Naught for thee t’ worry thyself over, Gunty,’ Tafferty said.
‘Thy passenger is receivin’ a lesson in courtesy, that is
all.’

Sir
Guntifer eyed Pinch and then Tafferty in turn, his mouth set in a
grim line. ‘I cannot blame thee, but I would beg thee to draw thy
teaching to a close,’ he said. ‘Methinks he is moments from
tumbling to the ground, and doing himself great harm.’

Tafferty grumbled to herself, then raised her voice to shout
over the inarticulate noises Pinch was making in his distress.
‘Pinch, thou reeky mammet! Stop thy yowlin’ an’ listen!’

Pinch subsided,
staring at Tafferty with wide eyes.

‘Art
thou sorry fer thine infernal noise?’

Pinch nodded
frantically.

‘Truly? Thou must mean it.’

Pinch nodded so
hard that his head flopped about on his neck, and he shook himself
violently. As he did so, the stitches began to unwind themselves,
and half a minute later they were gone. Pinch gulped in several
huge breaths of air, staring at Tafferty in abject
horror.

‘That
was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me,’ he said at
last.

Tafferty curled up upon the mare’s neck once more, tucking
her tail around herself with an air of satisfaction. ‘Very good,’
she said, and closed her eyes.

Pinch
exchanged a wide-eyed look with Isabel, before turning his back
upon the company and facing forwards into the trees. His manner was
unmistakeable: he would think twice before getting on Tafferty’s
bad side again.

So
would Isabel. She swallowed, trying to calm the unsettled
fluttering of her heart. Were these the powers she had gained? If
so, she certainly did not want them!

The
site of the Teapot Society proved to be less than a day’s travel
from Grenlowe, albeit only slightly less. Isabel was not used to
riding for such long hours together, and by the time late afternoon
drew in, she was feeling sore and deeply uncomfortable. Further,
the beauty of the Outwoods delighted her only for a time; as the
day wore on, the tall trees with the broad trunks, hanging vines
and multi-coloured leaves began to be familiar, and as such lost
her attention. A combination of discomfort and boredom led her to
feel a sensation of relief when Sir Guntifer came to a halt at the
head of their party, and held up a hand.

‘Mark
ye that clearing ahead?’ he said. ‘Methinks that is the
Society.’

Sophy
spurred her mount forward at once, though at a cautious pace.
Isabel followed, feeling less confident than Sophy appeared to be.
She had been caught in the Society’s enchantment herself, for a
short time, and she had not forgotten the experience: the burning
and irresistible compulsion to consume as much as she could from
the contents of the teapots set before her, and their accompanying
delicacies. She well remembered how delicious they had been, and
how very much she had enjoyed herself; so much so that she had not
felt the smallest desire ever to leave. If it had not been for the
presence of mind of Sophy and her friends, Isabel might still be
there.

But
she felt nothing but doubt upon drawing closer to the glade amidst
the trees. There was the table, as she remembered. One end was
visible, but the table was so long that its other end was lost
somewhere amongst the trees. Tall-backed chairs were lined up along
either side of it, and a particularly large, ornate chair stood at
the head.

And
that was all. The pristine white cloth that covered the table was
bare; not a single teapot sat upon its surface. The chairs were all
empty — even the one at the head of the table, the seat of the host
or hostess. The glade should have been filled with the sounds of
consumption and merriment; instead, it was silent.

Isabel exchanged an uncertain look with Sophy. ‘Can this be
the right place?’ Isabel asked.

‘I
believe it must be,’ Sophy said, albeit in a doubtful tone. ‘I
cannot imagine two such tables should happen to be arranged in just
this fashion, and in the midst of the Outwoods. Besides, my own
recollections suggest that we have been travelling in exactly the
right direction to encounter it just here.’

Both
ladies dismounted, and cautiously stepped closer. Not only was the
table unoccupied, but it felt different to Isabel. Previously, the
clearing had been so heavy with magic she had felt it as a
prickling upon her skin. Now, there was nothing. It was only a
table.

‘Where, then, is Hidenory?’ said Sophy at last. ‘How can she
have accomplished this?’

‘I
wonder if she knew, when she volunteered herself?’ said Isabel.
‘That she would be able to break the enchantment.’

‘That
is possible,’ agreed Sophy.

Tafferty stretched and jumped down from the mare’s back.
‘Rightly she oughtn’t t’ have any such power,’ she commented.
‘Though the prodigious power o’ Hidenory th’ Witch is well-enough
known in these parts. But this is an Everlasting Enchantment. There
be ways t’ free people from it, but not t’ dissolve it altogether.’
The catterdandy stalked closer to the table and sniffed at it, her
tail twitching. ‘An’ it be dead as a proverbial.’ Tafferty
demonstrated this point by jumping onto one of the chairs and then
onto the table. Isabel tensed, waiting for the table to suddenly
set itself for tea, but nothing happened.