The Tower of Ravens (29 page)

“Goddess o‘ life, Goddess o’death,

Goddess o‘ all power that is the universe,

Shine your light o‘ white upon me and mine,

Shield all within this house from that which is evil,

Give to me peace and protection from harm,

By the power o‘ the fire, by the life in this blade,

By the power o‘ the earth, by the life in this wand,

By the powers o‘ air and water, cup and bowl,

By the powers o‘ stars and moons and cold distances,

Shield us, Eà o‘ the green blood, and keep us safe.”

She then reversed the movement of wand and dagger, and swept up the salted ashes with her hands, pouring them into a little muslin bag with some of the dead leaves. She tied the top of the bag with blue ribbon and then slipped the cord about the neck of her son, kissing him gently on the forehead. He murmured in his sleep and turned, tucking his hand under one round cheek. Shivering, Nina dragged her shift back on over her head and then crept into bed beside him, pulling the boy close against her body.

Rhiannon felt an odd prickling in her eyes, a hot ache in her throat.
It’s the smoke
, she told herself irritably, and set herself to waiting till Nina was asleep. The jongleur seemed comforted by her little charade by the fire and soon slipped into sleep. Rhiannon waited patiently a while longer, listening to the sound of the wind in the branches outside, the sudden wash of rain. When she was sure all was quiet and still, she slipped out of the warm bed and went to kneel where Nina had knelt, in the half-obscured circle of ashes and salt. She gazed into the black and orange puzzle of glowing coals, unsheathed her dagger and slashed it quickly across her outstretched wrist. Blood welled up, thick and dark, and dripped from her wrist onto the flagstones.

Walk elsewhere, dark lords
, Rhiannon said silently.
Drink this blood I freely offer you and seek not to take our souls. Walk elsewhere
.

Then she raised her wrist to her mouth and sucked at the cut, tasting the saltiness of her blood. She used her dagger to tear a strip of material from her shift, having nothing else to hand, and bound the wrist thoroughly. Almost immediately the white material was blotched with a growing stain. She shrugged, slipped the dagger back into the sheath strapped to her thigh, and crept back into the warmth of the bed, feeling faint and sick yet obscurely comforted, ready now to brave the falling shadows of sleep.

Next morning, the rain fell so heavily it was like a curtain of water drawn across the windows. Rhiannon had slept badly, her wrist throbbing and her dreams troubled. When she woke her eyes felt hot and scratchy as if filled with sand. It was so cold and grey outside, she could not find the will to throw off the counterpane and get up, and neither could the other girls. They all lay there drowsily, talking desultorily among themselves.

“Listen to that rain!” Felice murmured, and a while later moaned, “Och, my legs! I swear I am chafed raw.”

“I wish I could lie abed all day,” Edithe muttered, “but I guess there’s no chance o‘ that. They’ll make us ride all day in the rain, just to make sure we really ken what misery is.”

“Surely no‘ ?” Maisie poked her head out from under her pillow, her plaits all tousled. “I would like to bide here a wee. I was so sleepy last night I didna see a thing.”

“Just a whole lot o‘ smelly animals and that disgusting owl that kept spitting things at me,” Edithe said crossly.

They all burrowed back under the counterpane and were quiet. Rhiannon cradled her wrist against her breast and, when no-one came to rouse them, allowed herself to hope they would not have to ride out that day. She closed her eyes, feeling herself slipping back into sleep.

The door crashed open.

“Rise and shine, slug-a-beds,” Nina called, holding the door open with her foot, a tray in her hands. “It’s long past dawn and time to be getting on our way.”

A chorus of groans met her.

“But it’s
raining
,” Felice said.

“And I ache all over,” Edithe said.

“Surely we should wait for the rain to stop?” Maisie pleaded.

“Blackthorn does no‘ like the rain,” Rhiannon said firmly. “And she is still tired. Niall said I must no’ ride her too hard. He wouldna want me to ride her in the rain.”

“Is that so?” Nina said. “So ye lassies think we should wait for the rain to stop?”

“Aye!” they all cried.

“What if it doesna stop for days?” Nina said. “The Stormness is already swollen with the melting snows. If it rains like this for much longer it could break its banks and then we’d be marooned here for weeks and weeks.”

“Weeks?” Edithe cried in dismay.

“Aye,” Nina replied severely. “Didna ye notice how high it was last night? If ye wish to be witches, ye must learn to look about ye.”

“I was too tired to notice anything except how much my legs ached,” Felice said. “No‘ to mention the chafing. I’m rubbed raw!”

Nina pushed the door shut behind her and put down the tray. They all sat up a little, their eyes brightening, and one by one Nina passed them a steaming cup of tea. As they drank gratefully, Nina sat on the edge of their bed and regarded them with frowning black eyes, as dark as polished jet. Her face looked rather pale and haggard as if she too had been troubled by nightmares.

Refreshed by her tea, Felice said with her most winning smile, “We really are tired. We’re no‘ used to riding so far every day. Please, could we no’ rest today, and wait for the rain to stop? I’m sure Ashelma willna mind.”

“Ye do look rather white, the lot o‘ ye. Especially ye, Rhiannon. Are ye no’ feeling well? I would no‘ like any o’ ye to take a chill.”

Edithe immediately coughed, and laid her hand on her chest. “I am feeling rather unwell.”

Nina cast her a stern glance but turned back to Rhiannon, first laying her hand on Rhiannon’s forehead and then lifting her wrist. Rhiannon flinched and Nina looked down, her eyes at once widening in horror. “Rhiannon, what have ye done to yourself! Ye’ve cut yourself—ye’re bleeding!”

The makeshift bandage was heavily stained and so was the sheet where Rhiannon had slept. Nina held Rhiannon’s wrist in her cool fingers and stared into her eyes with a look as sharp and penetrating as a sword.

“What did ye cut yourself on?”

“My dagger.”

“How?”

“I cut.” She demonstrated with one swift movement.

“Ye cut yourself on purpose?”

Rhiannon nodded, not dropping her gaze. There was a long silence. Rhiannon was conscious of the other girls shrinking back.

“Why?” Nina’s voice was neutral.

“To make peace with the dark walkers.”

“Ye cut yourself to make peace with… the dark walkers? What—or who—are they?”

Rhiannon shrugged, unable to hold Nina’s gaze any longer. Not knowing how to describe what she meant, she used the word she had heard so often in the last few days. “Ghosts.”

Nina let go of her wrist. It was smarting cruelly, and Rhiannon cradled it in her other hand. Her cheeks felt hot and she knew she was perilously close to tears. She could not look at Nina or any of the other girls.

“Did ye bleed much?”

Rhiannon nodded.

Nina stood up. “Stay in bed, Rhiannon. I will make ye a blood-strengthening tea. We shall no‘ ride anywhere today. It really is no’ the weather for riding out. Ye other girls can get up or stay in bed as ye please. I should tell you though that I willna allow Annis to be bringing up trays to ye, so if ye wish to eat, get up, get dressed and come on down. I’ll make an exception for ye, though, Rhiannon. Stay in bed and rest.”

Rhiannon refused to be singled out, however. She got up when the other girls did, though she felt a wave of dizziness wash over her, and washed and dressed herself and went downstairs with the others, holding on to the banister rather tightly. Nina made no comment at the sight of her, though her frown deepened.

The long room was raucous with the games and fights of ten small children, most of them no more than six years old. Roden was in the midst of it, shrieking with laughter, while Lulu was leaping about like a mad thing, having stolen the only girl’s rag doll. The little girl was sobbing despairingly and trying to snatch it back, her younger brother enthusiastically helping. The three dogs were barking, and a white and black cat was hissing and spitting from the mantelpiece. Strixa the owl huddled on one of the rafters, occasionally spitting out a hard pellet at one of the children. Her aim was excellent.

Annis had a bowl of porridge in one hand and a dripping ladle in the other, and was trying to make herself heard above the racket, while Lulu and the little boy dodged round her. The arak gibbering in rage, the rag doll cradled close to her breast.

When the other boys joined in the chase, she suddenly jumped up onto the table, sending a jug of milk flying, and leapt up to catch hold of the iron-wrought chandelier, swinging from side to side till she was high enough to leap up into the rafters. There she crouched, rocking the doll and humming a tuneless lullaby.

“Oh, dear,” Nina said. “I’m so sorry. Lulu! Naughty girl! Give back the dolly right now.”

The arak shook her head, mumbling something in her own guttural language.

“Lulu, I am ashamed o‘ ye. We are guests in this house. Come down now and give back the doll to the wee lassie.”

Lulu gave a sorrowful moan and very slowly and sadly swung down, hanging from her tail before dropping lithely onto all fours. She raised the doll and kissed its painted face and then offered it back to the little girl. The girl snatched it and cuddled it close, glaring at the hairy little creature, who was looking very shamefaced.

“Good girl,” Nina said. “Never mind. I’ll make ye a dolly o‘ your own if ye’d like one.”

Lulu immediately danced in joy, shrieking in approval.

“I am sorry,” Nina said. “Lulu forgets her manners sometimes.”

“No‘ to worry,” Annis said, looking rather harassed as three of the boys raced past her, almost knocking her over. “Would ye prefer to have your breakfast in the kitchen? Mealtimes are rather wild here, I’m afraid.”

“I think we would indeed,” Nina answered. “That is, if ye young ladies do no‘ think it beneath ye?”

“No‘ at all,” Edithe said sweetly. “Please, lead the way.”

“Thank ye, then, Annis, that would be grand,” Nina said. “Roden! Settle down! Poor Annis should no‘ have to be worrying about ye as well as all the others. Sit down and eat your breakfast quietly, there’s a good lad.”

Roden reluctantly gave up the chase and came to sit at the table, dragging Lulu with him, and Nina and the older girls thankfully made their escape.

The kitchen was a haven of peace and warmth. A skinny old man with doleful dark eyes and a very long straggly grey beard meandered back and forth, getting them bowls, stirring various pots on the squat little stove and occasionally shovelling in another spade of coal. A grey cat was sleeping on one of the kitchen chairs, and in a box by the fire were seven adorable yellow ducklings, all squawking and trying to climb out over each other’s backs.

Breakfast was a simple affair—porridge ladled out into bowls, tubs of honey and jugs of goat’s milk, and a big brown pot of tea. Rhiannon felt much better after she had eaten her second bowl of honey-drenched porridge, and Nina stopped regarding her with a crease between her brows. Rhiannon was just finishing her third cup of tea when the door opened and Annis came in, plumper and rosier than ever.

“Morning, everyone,” she sang out. “I hope ye’ve all had a more peaceful breakfast than I did!”

“I’m sure we did. I hope ye do no‘ mind us abandoning ye,” Nina said.

“No, no, o‘ course no’. I kent Morogh would look after ye. It’s bad enough that I have to suffer the bairns’ commotion without inflicting it upon ye as well. I warn ye, though, it’s only going to get worse. They’re planning a re-enactment o‘ the Battle o’ Bonnyblair, and are about to descend on the kitchen in search of pots and pans to make armour. Ashelma is in the tower, if ye would like to go through and visit her there? She is no‘ teaching today so she’s free, for the morning at least.”

“Thanks, we would like that,” Nina said, standing up.

They followed Annis down a corridor to a large, arched doorway that led through into the tower. Built of stone, the tower was three stories high, with a staircase that wound up around the inner wall. On the ground floor was the witch’s study and reception room, with another iron-bound door out into the garden and four tall arched windows that could be opened to let in fresh air and sunshine. There was a large desk littered with scrolls and calendars and writing implements, a few straight-backed chairs and, by the fire, two soft-cushioned, deep-seated chairs drawn close together, each with a little wooden table just large enough for a cup or goblet.

Bookshelves had been made to fit the curved walls of the room, and these were filled with spell-books and scrolls and maps, jars of dried herbs and powders and polished stones, bottles of precious oils and distillations, skulls and bones and sticks and lumps of crystals, and candles of all sizes and colours. The room smelt faintly of incense and dried herbs.

Ashelma was sitting at her desk, writing, but she rose with a smile as Nina and the four girls came in. She let them browse amongst the shelves for a while, exclaiming and asking questions. Edithe and Maisie were particularly fascinated, the first becoming absorbed in a leather-bound book of spells, the second busying herself looking through the jars of herbs and medicines.

After a while, Ashelma took them upstairs to show them the other two floors. The middle storey was a workroom and storeroom, with all the equipment necessary to grind powders, distill potions and prepare spells. The girls browsed around for a while, then followed Ashelma as she led them up the staircase to the upper level.

They all exclaimed in surprise. The walls and domed roof of the tower were made entirely of clear glass, supported by slender spans of steel, so that they could see for miles in every direction, including up into the black, roiling clouds of the storm. On the floor a mosaic of coloured tiles and thin strips of silver metal traced out the shape of a five-sided star set within a circle. The four directions were each marked upon the perimeter of the circle with arcane symbols in yellow, red, blue and green, and set at each of these symbols was a twisted wooden wand made of willow, a ceremonial dagger made of iron and moonstones, a silver chalice, and a beautifully made clay bowl inscribed with a six-sided star and filled with charred ashes.