The Wittering Way (11 page)

Shivers rocked me as the magic dispersed, and I avidly studied the page revealed. It was one I hadn’t noticed before, filled with dark conjurings and hastily scribbled notes along the borders. I realized right away what the workings were for and recoiled in horror. At fifteen centuries only, I had not the ken—or the wit—to take on such a task. Surely the foremothers were wrong this time.

“What is it?” Yewsy asked, moving close. She looked at the book and a small gasp escaped her. “A Diarmin?”

I took a deep breath. “It looks that way.”

Yewsy backed away, waving her hands. “No, no, no, no. We want no part of that.”

“But the foremothers—”

“Are wrong,” she finished.

“I thought that, too, but we both know the book doesn’t lie.”

Yewsy glared at me for a handful of breaths and I watched, enchanted, as her gaze changed, softened. “It would be fascinating. You know, to actually see one.”

I nodded in agreement. Diarmins were the original crafters of Sheadha technology and they possessed powerful magic. But it was a male energy. And their energy was so powerful that they had tried to dominate the foremothers after arriving on this planet, so far from their original home. A great battle ensued with the Sheadha Mothers banding together and banishing them to Endet, the place between worlds. It was an unfortunate decision, for the Diarmins were a necessary part of Sheadha culture for work and for protection. The Mothers had replaced them with Meab males, a somewhat watered down version of a Diarmin.

To call up a Diarmin from Endet was a risky move and at the moment, I didn’t understand what purpose it could serve. I only hoped that more would be revealed to me in time.

“I suppose,” I said. “Any thoughts on why this needs to be done?”

She walked back to the worktable. “Let’s think about this,” she mused as she took a seat. “Diarmins are little, if I remember correctly, yes?”

I shrugged. “I guess...I think so.”

“Well, maybe it can enter the citadel without being seen.”

Excitement engendered a small fire within me. “That’s true! And they have powerful magic, maybe it can dim so it can’t be seen, even in that weird light.”

“But, will it do something as honorable as rescue Avapeony and bring her home?”

I sat back and laced my hands across my stomach, thinking about it. “There’s nothing else we can do, Yews. I don’t think we can get back in, or at least get very far. And they have Avapeony in the dungeon. I can’t even imagine getting that far.”

“So trust becomes the issue,” she stated.

“Trusting a Diarmin. I never supposed I would.”

A tap sounded against the front door. Yewsy and I looked at one another questioningly. She rose and went to the door and came back with Memo. I rose and embraced Memo, sending affection and sorrow with every sense of my being. I held her a very long time, mingling our fammies and allowing our breaths to synchronize.

“I never meant—” I began when I pulled back from her.

She pressed two fingers to my lips, staying my words. “My brother died a brave death, a warrior’s death. There is no sorrow in that.”

I studied her round, dear face for a long beat. “There is still sorrow,” I whispered, finally. I rested my forehead against hers.

“Come, Memo, we’ll have tea,” Yewsy said, drawing her away to the table.

I joined them, sadness still weighing down my heart.

“I miss Avapeony,” Memo said without preamble. “When do we try again?”

I looked at Yewsy, then back at Memo. “You want to try again?”

“Of course. We have to get her back.” Memo’s dark eyes were wide with surprise. “And we need to hurry. Are you healed enough to go?”

“I am, but I—”

“Good. I’ll go get my bags.”

I brushed Higen aside and took her arm. “Wait! Memo, there’s no way we can get into the citadal again. We were lucky to get out last time.”

“But, Cleome, we have to!” she cried out. “We have to bring her home. Goddess knows what they are doing to her. She might be hungry or...scared.” Tears trembled in her large black eyes.

I turned away, sudden terror filling me. I didn’t want to think about any of that.

“We have a plan,” Yewsy said quickly. “We’ll get her. And soon.”

“I want to be part of it,” Memo stated. “Don’t leave me out of it.”

Yewsy handed her a mug of tea. “As soon as we decide for sure, you’ll be told.”

I sighed, indecision making my thoughts spin. I knew one thing for sure, this plan had to be kept secret for now. Not an easy thing in a people known for their openness.

I WAITED UNTIL Yewsy was fast asleep before touching her between the eyes in a sleeping bind. I left the snuggly warmth of the bed and moved through Jana light shining in from outside. At the worktable, I lit candles and shaped them into a pyramid shape, the ancient shape of the foremothers. I pulled mother’s book close and read the section on summoning a Diarmin.

It was a relatively simple working but had many layers of depth. It touched on all the senses—touch for earth, taste for fire, smell for air, sound for water and for sight, the ancient spirit of Akasha that all our tribes answer to. The energy of the working cycled through these senses many times until the message reached the particular Diarmin summoned. A special doorway had to be constructed in the center of the work surface so that some of the Diarmin’s supernatural ken would be stripped away, otherwise it would be too powerful to exist on this plane, in this time.

I moved a separate candle closer to the grimoire. Each Diarmin was associated with certain signs and seals, so I pored over the short list of names and the notes my mother had scribbled about each of them. During the many millions of eons on this earth, some Diarmin had fallen away, and she noted the ones that had passed. They were not any more immortal than the ones they had served but many still remained. I studied the list until one candle had guttered and the wick on another had grown unmanageably long. Finally, I sighed deeply.

“Okay, Afton. Start the process. It’s Occil.”

I felt his heat grow as I laid out the long sprigs of dried rosemary. I plucked a few more from the herb bundles overhead and completed the passageway. Reaching to the side, I placed a rock, part of a Jana wing, a candle and pulled a goblet of cool water close. I sat back and stared at the square center of the larger square of interlaid rosemary branches. There was only darkness there, but I cowered nevertheless.

Moon that gleams and glows

Let your wise eyes see

I summon the evil one, Occil

To draw it close to me

Hear my needy heart Hear my honest plea Evil cannot create love But to do my will can be

I spoke with a firm voice, tucking fear away so the wicked one would not see. I said it three times as the world howled around me. Afton was spinning faster than ever before and causing anything with little enough weight to fly, spinning about the cottage. I ducked as a wooden bowl flew at my head and momentarily bisected Afton, yet I continued the working unabated. The vines on the walls trembled and the Lares and Fey peered out at me with wide, frightened eyes. Doubt surfaced in me but I called up Avapeony’s young face and I continued. A small murder of crows took flight and, though buffeted off track by the wind, managed to make their way outside through the window opening.

I bound the spell then closed my eyes for a brief moment to set the work. An object hit me in the shoulder, twisting me and setting off the old pain in my back. I snapped my eyes open and saw a deep red glow in the center of the sheaving square. One tiny hand snaked forth and a bulbous red eye examined me.

“Who are you?” a creaky voice asked as a wave of fire smell washed across me.

“Cleome of the Widdershin join, daughter of DaisyFir,” I responded.

“Ahh, a Meab,” the voice continued conversationally. “Will you take away the square? I fear harm to me.”

I glanced at Mother’s grimoire. Under no circumstances should the shearing square be removed and the creature allowed full power.

“I am sorry, Occil, I cannot do that,” I said firmly.

Another clawlike hand appeared at the rim of the square. “Are you sure?” it asked, making me feel as though I were mistaken in my decision.

“Y...yes, I am sure. Pass through the square, Diarmin, or I shall summon another.”

Two pointed ears set vertically atop a head appeared and it paused. “I don’t like this,” it whined. “Why should you wish to harm me?”

I slid the grimoire closer and slid my finger along the list of Diarmin.

Occil’s red, vertically pupiled eyes appeared at the rim of the square. “Stop, wit, don’t you see I come forth?”

I sat back and waited silently as the tiny creature, no larger than a Jana, lifted itself from the square. It fell to one side and lay curled up, tongue hanging from its mouth. I studied it. The dark brown creature had a strange bifurcated mouth filled with tiny, sharply-pointed teeth. The flat nose above this mouth was a pink, inverted triangle. The pupil-divided eyes were large, bulbous and almond shaped, with an observant, eager gaze. It studied me as keenly as I studied it.

“Why have you called me, wit?” Its eyes roamed the cottage with a measuring glance.

“I need your magic to rescue my sister,” I answered.

“Rescue?” It slid across the table and grabbed two grapes from a bowl on the kitchen counter. “Rescue, how?”

“She was taken by the Brinc clan and is being held against her will,” I explained.

“The Brinc clan? Aren’t they your people?” Grape juice sheened its short chin as it awaited my answer.

“There’s been...complications,” I said as I got to my feet. “Our paths have diverged.”

“What do they want with her?” Occil rolled onto its back and extended its skinny arms and legs into the air, as if stretching them.

I sighed and straightened the magic tools, pressing out candle flames. “It doesn’t matter, and I’m not sure. All I know is that her home is here and this is where she should be.”

Occil sat up and studied me for a long moment. “So, you want me to get her from somewhere else and bring her here?”

I stared back. “Yes.”

“That’s all you want.”

“Yes. Can you do it?”

The creature smiled and new fear quaked in me. The smile was somehow more horrible than the Diarmin’s already disturbing appearance. “Can I? Of course. Will I? Hmm.”

I knew better than to let any fear through where these creatures were concerned. I lit a new candle and began the banishing.

In these names that are above all others

the name of the great Mother—

“All right. All right! Sheesh! You’re a bit testy,” Occil said. “Are you ready to go?”

“Go? Go where?”

He eyed me with one squinted eye. “Are you addled? Is this a mistake? I thought you wanted to go get this sister.”

I blinked. “Yes. You want to go now? And I’m going with you?” I hated that my voice squeaked.

The creature nodded slowly, still eyeing me as though I had two heads.

“Wait! I need to get something...someone. Wait there.” I spread my hands and made a staying work with my left hand. I rushed from the table and into my sleeping cell. I tapped Yewsy’s forehead.

“Time to awake. We are going back to the citadel,” I whispered loudly.

Yewsy opened her eyes and stared curiously at me. “I heard you say citadel?”

“Yes. The Diarmin is ready to go,” I answered.

“Diarmin?” To her credit, she rose immediately and began throwing on her outer clothing. “You summoned it?”

“I did.” I shoved Afton aside and pulled on my day tunic and my jacket, tucking my daggers into my woven waistband. I donned my hat then grabbed Afton back to my shoulder. He protested this rough treatment and I think Brennen was reacting in much the same way, evidenced by his indignant purple hue.

“What’s it like?” Yewsy whispered, coming close.

I just shook my head as I turned to the door. “See for yourself.”

We peered around the door together and watched as Occil gleefully dripped hot candle wax on its rounded belly. Yewsy looked at me.

“It’s so little. Are you sure it’s...”

“I think so,” I answered. “But watch it. It’s a troublemaker.”

“I can hear you,” Occil said. “Let me off this table. Then we can go.”

We approached it cautiously, and I formed the release symbol then stuffed my mother’s book into my bag.

“Ahh, that’s better,” it said, spreading its bony arms wide. “Let me see where we’re going.”

Before I realized what was happening, the creature had jumped on my shoulder and inserted one arm into Afton. The fammie squeaked, but the Diarmin petted it gently with its other hand.

“You know, I always wanted one of these,” Occil said, wistfully. “I can only imagine what it is like to have a constant companion. The Meab and the sprites are so blessed to have them.”

Afton pulled away, but gently. “Yes, our fammies certainly sustain us,” I said. “We know how blessed we are,” Yewsy agreed. The Diarmin held up its hands and wiggled them.

I BLINKED AND when I opened my eyes the three of us had joined Ronat and Avapeony in the dungeon of the citadel. It was a dank and airless place, made up of mortared stone walls enhanced by heavy metal fittings. The two Meab we sought were crouched in a far corner on a pallet of mostly disintegrated straw.

Ronat’s head snapped up so quickly that I thought her thin, twig-like neck would snap. Avapeony’s eyes widened as she clambered to her feet. “Cleome? Is it really you?”

“Well, hello there,” Occil said, scurrying to Ronat’s side. “You didn’t tell me your sister was so beautiful.”

“That’s not her sister,” Yewsy said. “That’s the daughter of the man who caused all this!”

“It’s not what you think!” Ronat responded sharply. “My father was a pawn in a bigger game. Prosee join and my brothers...they poisoned his mind.”

“My join has been destroyed,” I responded. “And the two of you are here. That’s all that matters.” I said, trying to stem my latent anger.