On Wings of Magic (Witch World: The Turning) Read online

  “Oh, yes, yes, please!” Eirran cried. “I'll do anything—”

  “Bring the children back to us. That will be enough.”

  “I pledge it on my life's blood.”

  “Come with me.” The Witch led Eirran to a star-shape inlaid in the floor and picked out in brilliant blue stones. “Stand in the center,” she said.

  She gestured at a nearby brazier and flame suddenly spurted from its interior. A reddish mist began to fill the place where Eirran stood. A little giddily, she found herself wondering if it were confined to the area of the pentagram or if it filled the entire room. She could barely make out the shape of the Witch's form. The sound of someone singing came filtering through the haze, as if the musician stood at a great distance. A new kind of dizziness assailed her as, willing or not, she inhaled the smoke. The song entered her being, became one with her, bone of her bone and flesh of her flesh. Throbbing with a strange, unsettling warmth, she closed her eyes. She didn't want to look at what might be happening. Dizzily, she fancied that if she did look, she could see her body dissolving into the mist and draining away to re-form into a new and different shape, one wiry and muscular, not much taller than her own—

  The song faded. “Open your eyes,” the Guardian said.

  Eirran obeyed. The mist had turned gray, and even as she blinked, it dissolved and dissipated into nothing. She looked down at herself, unable to keep back an exclamation of disappointment. “Oh! It didn't work!”

  “Did it not?” the Guardian said. She took a square of polished silver from a nearby table and handed it to Eirran. “Tell me what you see in there.”

  She gasped again, this time in surprise. “Why—why it's Kernon's face!” She gazed at her hand, slender and fine-boned, then held it where she could catch its reflection in the metal. There it was a different image entirely—sun-darkened, heavier of bone, calloused on palm from hours of practice with the sword and dart-gun—definitely a man's hand. “And, I suppose Kernon's hand. But how—” She gazed at herself again, staring at the man's face she had last seen that morning over his second breakfast of spoiled porridge. Only her eyes were still her own.

  “You can't see the magic because you're inside it,” the Guardian explained. “But others will. You can only see it reflected in mirrors, like this, or in still water.”

  “How long will it last?” asked, half-unbelieving of her good fortune.

  “As long as necessary. Beware that your husband does not learn your secret, however. He's the one who could penetrate the illusion, as he knows you best. If he does—” The Guardian shrugged. “Well, you'll just have to hope that you're so far on your journey that he won't dare send you back alone.”

  “Oh, thank you, Lady, thank you.”

  “There's no time for that. Go and dress you, and arm yourself with Kernon's gear. You leave within the hour.”

  “But won't Yareth wonder why I am not there to bid him farewell?”

  The Guardian smiled frostily. “Not if he thinks you have gone already.”

  Eirran nodded slowly. “I do have a temper. And we did quarrel.” She made up her mind. “Yes. It may create trouble between us later, but it will work.” She bowed to the Witch as a man would, and then hurried off to do her bidding.

  V

  An hour later eight men dressed for the road, all cloaked and wearing chain mail and bearing fully-laden saddlebags, rode out of Es Castle. Half a league past-the city gate they turned off the main road onto the lesser one leading north and west, in the direction of the Place of Wisdom.

  Eirran carefully maneuvered her horse so she was near the back of the party. All of them rode sturdy, road-wise Torgians like Yareth's and Weldyn's, though Witches had changed the other horses’ appearances before they left. It would have looked suspicious if all of them had been so well-mounted. Now Eirran seemed to be riding a scrubby roan. Rangin and the other Falconer's Torgian were unchanged, however; Falconers’ fondness for the finest in horseflesh was well known and if they had appeared to be mounted on less, that fact would have occasioned the comment they wished to avoid. Both men carried birds on the forks of their saddles. Eirran's concern was not only that Yareth might recognize her eyes looking out of Kernon's countenance, brief though his acquaintance with the man might be, but also that Rangin or even Newbold might be able to see through her illusion disguise, so she kept a prudent distance from all of them.

  She could detect Yareth's secret anger in the set of his shoulders, the tightness of his jaw. She knew he must be furious because he thought she had left without even a farewell.

  But it couldn't be helped. It was enough that she was with him, enough that only a few people knew that one of the men riding out to rescue the Witch-children was really a woman.

  Four

  I

  Mouse thought that she had never seen anything so magnificent as the gray-green walls and towers of Es City and the great castle it sheltered. Though she had promised herself she would not act like the mouse she was named for, fresh from the country and green as grass, she couldn't help looking from side to side as the travelers rode in, singing. She felt a little better when she discovered that the others were doing the same thing. Lisper was even looking upwards as well, as if new wonders might come pouring from the sky at any moment. Lisper caught Mouse looking and the two girls had to put their hands over their mouths to hold in their laughter, lest the others start giggling too and the song be spoiled.

  People stopped and stared at them as they rode straight down the main street, through the castle gatehouse and to the great stables were men came out and took the horses and ponies and led them away. Rhinfar saluted smartly and Bee dismissed him with her thanks. Then he and his men marched off, taking a different direction once they were within the castle grounds.

  “Where are they going?” Flame asked.

  “To the barracks. That's where they stay, when they're in the castle.” Bee smiled at her charges. “Come children, let's go inside now. Don't tarry.”

  “So soon?” Star said. She sounded startled. “Are we going to start our lessons today?”

  “You've forgotten. This is where the Guardian lives.”

  “But how do we get in, Bee?” Cricket said in dismay. “There are no doors!”

  Bee laughed. “It's a simple trick, to fool the unwary. I'll show you. You won't be staying long here, just overnight. Another lady will take you to the Place of Wisdom—” An outburst of “No!” from six little girls, all in chorus, interrupted her and she shushed the children firmly. “My job is finished, bringing you this far. My work is here, at the Council, with the Guardian. She wants to talk with each of you, however, before you go. Come along, we've got fresh clothes so you can change and make yourselves presentable.”

  Bee showed the children the trick of how to see through the illusionary walls barring the entrance. Then she herded her charges through double doors and into high, echoing corridors that led to a large dormitory room plastered and painted white, decorated with a band of painted red and blue flowers, high up where the ceiling met the walls. There were six beds with a stand beside each, and each stand held a basin filled with warm water. Beside each basin lay a cake of soap. But Mouse scarcely paid any attention to any of the dormitory's fine furnishings or even the water, eager as she was to wash the road-dust off her face and hands. To her astonished delight, on the beds lay six gray robes, identical except for size to the one Bee wore. And on the floor, just under the edge of the beds, lay six pairs of gray cloth slippers, to replace their clumsy footgear, and there were new sandals as well.

  The children, squealing with delight, rushed forward to examine their new garments.

  “Oh, can we really, really wear these?” Flame asked. She already had her shoes off and was wriggling her feet into her new slippers.

  “Of course you may,” Bee answered. “But not until you are clean.”

  The girls immediately stripped to their undergarments and began splashing in the water so enthusiasticall
y the floor and walls were soon splattered and dripping. Bee had to examine each child in turn, to see that she had gotten at least a little of the water on herself as well. As for the soap, it seemed to be a lost cause. Finally she gave up, sent for a fresh supply of water and supervised each little girl, one by one, as she bathed, making certain she washed everywhere—with soap—even behind the ears.

  “You children,” she said, shaking her head with mock disapproval at Lisper, who was last in line for the baths. The other girls giggled and squirmed, proud of their new garments and how very fine they looked in them. “You're never going to learn how to behave. I just hope you won't act like this when you're with the Guardian.”

  “We won't,” Cricket said. “I'm hungry!”

  “Me, too!” the others said.

  Mouse had been sniffing the strange soap-smell—green, like herbs, and not at all like the soap Mama made, that smelled like fresh flowers—and thinking that it was very nice in its own way. Suddenly she discovered that she too was ravenous. “Can we eat just a little before we go see the Guardian?” she asked.

  “Yes, of course. It will be one of our last times together for a while,” Bee said. “But I'll try to come and have breakfast with you tomorrow. Now, line up. Let me look at you.”

  When Bee was satisfied with their appearance, she led them to another room. Windows opened onto an inner courtyard, and there was a door to the outside as well. There were six places laid at a long table—bowls, spoons, wooden cups. Mouse sighed a little.

  “What's wrong, Mouse?” Bee said.

  “Oh, nothing.”

  “Come on, now, what's wrong?”

  “This is just like what we had at home.”

  “And you expected something finer than wood bowls. Silver. Or pewter at least.”

  Mouse nodded, ashamed. “I always put flowers on our table when there were any.”

  “Well,” Bee said, “Witches don't set much store by finery. You must learn that. But we can have some flowers.”

  A rose vine grew just outside the door, and several buds were just breaking into bloom. Bee brought the flowers in, put them in a vial of water and set it in the middle of the table, close to where Mouse was sitting. “Is that better?” she said.

  “Oh, yes, thank you, Bee,” Mouse said. Contentedly she spooned barley soup into her mouth. From time to time she touched the roses. They were beautiful and smelled wonderful.

  Later, because the Guardian was busy and couldn't see them just yet, they were allowed out into the courtyard. There they played happily in the sunshine. But this time, there was no uproarious game of Catch Me, as there had been on the road when they had been overexcited and had to work off excess energy or burst. Now that they were actually in Es City, and in the very middle—or so it seemed—of Es Castle, it seemed that this rare moment of peace filtered into them and made them calm. Cricket found a length of string and amused herself with teaching Lisper how to work cat's cradle; Mouse and Bird giggled together softly as Lisper made mistake after mistake, trying to follow Cricket's instructions.

  “You're the worst at cat's cradle I've ever seen,” Bird said contentedly. “Far worse than I ever was.”

  “Am not,” Lisper said. Her fingers twinkled in the sunlight and suddenly the string formed a very complicated arrangement that Cricket had definitely not showed her. “Thee?”

  Mouse looked at her new gray slippers, wriggling her toes with pleasure. She had never had slippers like this before. She would wear the sandals over them, she understood, when she went outside the walls of Es Castle. Later, when summer finally arrived, she would leave off the slippers and put the sandals on over bare feet, just as she had done all her life. She thought this arrangement was probably the nicest idea anybody had ever had about shoes, and slippers, and feet. Her feet always got so cold in the winter, and now they weren't cold at all.

  Star wandered about the courtyard, looking at everything but not touching anything. Flame simply sat very still in the middle of the garden, wrapped in her own thoughts, and the other children did not disturb her.

  II

  That afternoon, the girls lined up to go in and have their interviews with the Guardian. All at once, now that the moment had arrived, the children turned very shy. Bee had to choose which one went first, which one second, and so on, for the children seemed utterly incapable of it. Mouse was fourth in the line of suddenly subdued little girls, sitting on a bench outside the Guardian's door. Either there was another door leading out of the room or they all stayed inside once they went in, for nobody came back to tell them what the interviews were like. Mouse thought it was probably for the best that Star, the most composed of them all, was also the last. She could stand the waiting better than any of the others.

  Before she knew it, it was Mouse's turn to go in. She gulped hard. She stared at the handle on the door. It was made of bronze, cast in the shape of some unimaginable creature. Mouse fancied that its eyes winked at her and it leered and writhed in her grasp. She nearly let go. Right at that moment she wanted nothing more in her life than to run away and hide, anywhere where she didn't have to look at hideous beasts on door handles, didn't have to wear gray dresses, didn't have to go to some unimaginable school a world away from Mama and Papa, didn't have to go and meet a strange old lady who was as terrible as her door handle and probably twice as ugly. Then the moment of rebellion passed. Resolutely, she grasped the metal beast again so firmly it stopped squirming in her hands. Heart pounding and her mouth so dry she could hardly swallow, she twisted the handle, pushed the door open, and went inside.

  To her surprise, she discovered a very pleasant room indeed. It was small and cozy, with tapestries on the wall and a fire burning on the hearth. Another lady waited inside, dressed in gray, and she looked very much like all the other gray-clad ladies, and not at all old or ugly or beast-like, even if she did have a dreadful handle on her door. Another lady was coming through a small door at the far end of the room, carrying a tray. She set the tray down and departed the way she had come.

  “Welcome, my child,” the Guardian said. “I was just going to make some tea. Have you ever had tea?”

  “Oh, yes, Lady, thank you,” Mouse said politely. “My Mama used to make it all the time and she would let me drink a little when I was good.”

  The lady's mouth twitched. “Then you must know just how to do it. Will you make it for me? And since Bee tells me you've been very good indeed, you shall have a cup all for yourself.”

  Proudly, Mouse sat down across from the lady and began measuring out the sweet-smelling leaves from the jar. Frowning with concentration, sticking her tongue out from between her teeth, she poured just the right amount of hot water into the pot and let the brew steep. Cautiously, she checked at what seemed the proper time. The tea was perfect. As she handed the cup to the Guardian, she realized she had been very silly to be afraid. She had never had a single thing to worry about, for this lady was every bit as nice as Bee. She felt very much at home and presently she and the Guardian were chatting like old friends about anything that Mouse wanted to talk about.

  “You have a pretty necklace, too,” Mouse said, staring at the bluish-gray stone hanging from the silver chain around the Guardian's neck. She glanced down at her new gray dress, thinking how much she wanted a necklace just like it, and how nice it would look around her neck. “It's like the one Bee wears.”

  “This is more than an adornment,” the Guardian said. “It is part of our mystery. Each Witch has her own Jewel, and it is hers alone. It helps us do wonderful things. Watch.”

  With that, she picked up the Jewel and set it in the palm of her hand. To Mouse's astonishment the gem began to glow. As she watched, the light grew brighter and brighter until it became so intense that it overpowered all the other light in the room, creating strange shadows that flickered over the Guardian's face.

  Mouse sat open-mouthed. Her skin tingled, as if hundreds of crawling things danced over it. But there was nothing, nothing t
hat she could see. Awe-struck, Mouse realized that this was part of the Power that Bee had spoken of on their journey. Power fairly crackled through the room, its flow strongest between the Jewel and the Witch who held it. The Guardian's black hair had been caught in a silver net. Under the force of the light, the net fell away. The hair, loosened from the tight net, began to stir and lift. The force intensified until the Guardian's hair streamed upward in the light the Jewel was giving off, as if she were standing on some high mountainside, facing into a cold and bracing wind. Mouse forgot to be frightened, she was so fascinated. And also the Guardian was looking at her and smiling a little, so even if she were afraid she couldn't possibly allow herself to show it.

  Then the lady looked back at the gem and blew on it lightly. The level of Power immediately dropped and Mouse became aware that she had somehow been hearing as well as seeing it as the strange and noiseless sound died away. The thumping in her ears lessened until it became only the sound of her own heartbeat. She moved, discovering that she had been held frozen, unable to stir while the marvel was going on.

  “Oh, thank you!” Mouse breathed. “That was wonderful. I wish I had a silver necklace with a Jewel in it. I'd do that all the time.”

  The lady smiled. For no reason that Mouse understood, she suddenly looked tired. “No, you wouldn't, I'm afraid,” she said. “But I'm glad you want to. Would you like to touch it?”

  “Ooh!” Mouse whispered. “Could I? Really?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Hesitantly, Mouse reached out and put a fingertip on the milky gray stone. Suddenly it flared to life with a burst of light and Mouse snatched her hand back as if it had been scalded. She stuck her finger in her mouth, but it was unharmed. The gem was perfectly cool. Perhaps the flash of light had been the last spark of what the lady had shown her, the way a fire will blaze up just before it dies for good.

  The lady chuckled indulgently. “You will have a Jewel of your own one day, you know, when you are all grown up and have learned all your lessons. You must study very hard, and mind your teachers so you can grow up tall and straight—”