by E M Graham
After descending two flights, I ended up in the front entrance, coloured glass in the arched transom above the double door and in the wide panels on each side of it. A different carpet runner, one of blue and pale red stripes, led towards the back of the house and thence down a few more stairs, where I could hear a great banging of pots.
I don’t know what I had been expecting, but the kitchen was a strangely modern room, in as much as the latter part of the last century could be said to be modern. A white gas stove, a small white refrigerator, white cupboards above and below a wooden countertop. The little female who had been minding me as I slept was now standing up on a step stool, hand washing pots almost as large as herself.
When she caught sight of me she screeched again. ‘No’ in here! Mrs. Mac is in the parlour!’ She flicked a large quantity of suds my way as she pointed out of the kitchen.
There were only two other choices of doors along the dark corridor on the main level of the house, so I chose the front of the house, guessing that should be the parlour. I hesitated before turning the handle. Should I knock first?
I decided to err on the side of caution and politeness, and was answered by an imperious voice bidding me to enter.
The woman, I took her to be Mrs. Mac, was standing by an ornate fireplace when I opened the door, and she openly gave me the once over as I stepped inside the room. She was a matronly kind of person, middle-aged stout, dressed in a blue day dress with court shoes, and her hair was the same style as the Queen’s, a helmet of tightly controlled waves set back from her wide face.
Mrs. Mac nodded as if confirming to herself.
‘Welcome, Dara,’ she trilled, rolling the ‘r’. She even sounded sort of like the Queen, but even more regal and Scottish to boot. ‘Please have a seat. I’ll ring for tea.’ With that, she pressed a button by the side of the mantel.
While we waited, I looked around the room. There was only one window in this miniature, overstuffed room, and it was almost hidden behind lace curtains with a canopy of golden velvet drapery surrounding it on three sides. The furniture was finely upholstered in pale blue, and a piano was squeezed into one corner. But what really caught my eye was the overwhelming number of knick-knacks placed on every single surface of the room. Dresden shepherdesses rubbed elbows with Toby mugs, which fought for space with china cats, and all were interspersed with tiny plates stating names of villages I’d never heard of. A brass owl leered out from behind a Victorian porcelain doll and a carved wooden elephant. There was too much more to take notice of.
And the walls, papered in Edwardian stripes of green and white, were likewise covered with photos in frames, ranging from early stiff black and white shots of women in long dresses and men with mutton chop sideburns, to little framed shots of people in bathing suits by the seaside. It was a room overwhelming in its memories, as if the owner could bear to let nothing go.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Mac had taken a seat on the tightly stuffed sofa across from me and sat with her hands in her lap and legs crossed at the ankle, graciously smiling upon me. ‘If you wouldn’t mind opening the door for Brownie,’ she said at last. ‘She sometimes finds it difficult to juggle both the tray and the handle.’
The little maid was waiting outside, carrying a silver tray loaded with a teapot, cups and saucers, milk jug, sugar dish and a plate of biscuits. She didn’t say anything, merely shot me a dirty look as she pushed past me and laid the tray on a side table with a thump.
‘Thank you, Brownie,’ Mrs. Mac trilled. ‘That will be all. Oh, I believe we’ll have that roast for luncheon tomorrow, if you would be so kind to prepare it.’
‘Now, Dara,’ Mrs. Mac turned her attention on me before Brownie had even left the room. ‘As you’ll be staying here as my boarding guest, I feel it’s important to lay down a few Rules of the House, so as not to cause Unfortunate Misunderstandings during your time here.’ She gave me a benevolent smile before continuing.
‘There will be no coming and goings at all hours. This is a Respectable Home, and the doors are locked at ten o’clock every night. Brownie has a long day, and we can’t have her woken up to let you in whenever you feel inclined, that’s far too much of an inconvenience for the poor thing. So if you will respect this, we will all get along famously.’
She poured two cups of tea and handed me one. The china was almost thin enough to see through, and the faded gold leaf around the lip showed it to be of a great age. A fine cup yes, but the tea was weak and watery.
I reached over for a biscuit before they were offered because I was ravenous, having had no breakfast yet and nothing to eat since leaving the island. She frowned slightly at this, but said nothing. I was glad to note that my extreme taste sensitivity had faded, for although the shortbread was slightly stale, the butter in it was delicious. Yet the small shortbread hardly made a dent in my hunger, and I eyed the plate for a second helping as I licked the last crumb off my finger.
‘Meals,’ she continued. ‘Breakfast is served at half-past seven in the dining room, summer and winter. You will not be partaking of luncheon as you will be at the castle with the Venerable Nachtan.’ Here, her eyes fluttered with pleasure, just a little, and she leaned in as if to impart a confidence. ‘The fact that you are studying under such a great gentleman is the sole reason I allowed Hugh to convince me to take you on. I don’t commonly take paying guests, you realize, only Very Special Cases.’
The Venerable Nachtan again. Who was this person? I interrupted her prepared speech to ask.
Her hand rose to her throat as she gasped. ‘Who is the Venerable Nachtan?’ And she frowned as she diverted her train of thought, and then her face cleared. ‘But of course, you’re from the Colonies, that might explain your ignorance.’ She took her teacup and saucer in hand and leaned closer, speaking in a reverent tone. ‘The Venerable Nachtan is the greatest living witch in the world. Of course, he is Scottish, and the oldest witch, also. He has performed great feats over his lifetime, and through the years he has contributed more to the Common Knowledge of Witchery than any other person.’
‘Knowledge?’ I stared at her. My heart was beginning to race. ‘You mean, spells and things? Magical knowledge?’
She sniffed haughtily. ‘Of course, magical knowledge. What other kind of knowledge is there?’
‘So, he would know everything there is to know?’ My mind was racing to match my heart. The Venerable Nachtan would know how to get to the Ice Kingdom from here. Could it be this easy? Would he share this knowledge?
And how could I ask him without Hugh finding out?
‘If he doesn’t know it, it’s not worth knowing, I assure you,’ she said genially, delighted to see that I was suitably awed by greatness of the Scottish witch.
‘And I’ll be working with him,’ I said, more to myself.
‘He will oversee your education,’ she reminded me. ‘You would never be working with him, as if you were an equal.’ She trilled at the thought, then returned to her listing of the House Rules. ‘The evening meal is served at seven, if you are partaking of it. If not, you will receive no food. I can’t have you in the kitchen bothering Brownie. We must have Discipline in these matters.’
Just then the doorbell rang.
‘Ah, that will be Hugh now.’ Mrs. Mac sounded relieved, but made no movement to go greet him. Instead, we listened as Brownie thumped her way down the stairs and wrestled with the heavy front door.
‘They’re in the parlour,’ Brownie’s grudging voice came through to us and then we heard the front door slam and the little maid clumped her way back up the stairs.
Hugh appeared at the sitting room door like a breath of fresh air in this strange, claustrophobic old house, or maybe it was just me grasping for anything familiar. His dark curls glistened with moisture and his dark peacoat showed damp spots, although I could have sworn the sun was shining not half an hour previously when I’d awoken. His presence filled the cluttered space, suddenly making everything a little mo
re bearable. I stood up, a little rudely perhaps but I was quite ready to leave with him, to escape this house. I needed to breathe.
‘Mrs. Mac, how are you today?’ His voice was warm and he had turned the charm on full throttle, and he didn’t sound like he was going anywhere fast. ‘Dara’s not causing you any trouble, I hope?’
Mrs. Mac’s manner visibly melted under the force of Hugh, and she even tittered. ‘Och, now Hugh,’ she said flirtily. ‘I’m just explaining the House Rules. I believe we’ll muck along fine, Dara and I.’
‘I’m sure she’ll give you no issues,’ he replied smoothly, arching an eyebrow at me, then he nodded as if he understood exactly how I was feeling. ‘Well, I’ll take her out of your hair then, Mrs. Mac, and let you get on with your day. I know you’re a busy woman. No need to bother Brownie, we’ll see ourselves out.’
With that he quickly ushered me out of the parlour and through the double front doors of Mrs. Mac’s establishment. I found myself outside in a tiny square or plaza, lined on three sides by tall stone and brick houses and on the fourth directly across from us a concrete wall, with greenery showing over its top. It was gloomy here, with the mist shrouding the uppermost levels of the homes, each three or four stories high. Mrs. Mac’s house was the smallest in the square, but her stone walls were freshly painted and the wrought iron fencing immaculate and free of rust, despite the hint of salt sea in the moist air.
Hugh heaved a sigh of relief as the door closed behind us.
‘Well then,’ he said, and paused as we took each other in. He opened his arms and I fell into them, aching for his strong hug.
‘Happy Birthday, by the way,’ he whispered. ‘I think that got lost in all the excitement.’
I nestled in his arms a moment longer, loving the soft scratch of his wool coat and the strength of his arms. ‘A day late, but thank you.’
‘Hmm,’ he murmured into my hair. ‘But I’m guessing you didn’t get any cake.’
I shook my head against his shoulder. ‘Not a bite. Or a card.’
‘How does it feel to be a full adult? You’re twenty-one, right,’ he said.
‘Almost as old as you,’ I remarked, at which he laughed and I loved feeling the rumble deep inside him. He gave me an extra squeeze before letting me go.
‘So you’ve met Mrs. Mac. I’m sure you have many questions. Come on, we can talk as we walk.’
‘Where’re we off to?’ I asked as we turned left down a narrow lane leading out of the square.
‘’Eventually, to Edinburgh Castle, where we’ll begin working under the Venerable Nachtan. But not yet. Today, we’re going to be tourists. I’ll show you around Edinburgh, the old part where we are now.’
He stopped to look at me quizzically, taking in the whole of me from head to foot. ‘How are you feeling, by the way? Do you have any leftover effects from the magical coma?’
I sure did. I was a little muzzy and discombobulated, although I couldn’t think of that word at the time. ‘What do you think?’ I shot back at him. ‘Being put under and losing a whole day, how should I feel?’
‘Three days, actually,’ he replied absently as he looked both ways before leading me across the road. ‘The Kin felt that was for the best, to get you over the moon effect.’
‘Three?’
Hugh jumped at my tone, then a light dawned in his eyes. ‘You’re probably really hungry, aren’t you?’
‘Well, yeah,’ I said with as much sarcasm as I could muster. ‘After three days of not eating because I was sedated against my will.’
‘They woke you up enough to get water and broth in you,’ he mumbled and had the grace to look a little embarrassed as I glared at him. ‘It was for a good reason, believe me. The coma is not something the Kin did lightly, but they were very worried about the power surges you were experiencing. You were also knocking out the Wi Fi on Scarp, and that was frustrating. Johanna had to keep rebooting the system.’
‘Well, I’m sorry for inconveniencing her. And they’re sure it was me doing that?’ I demanded as I turned on him. As soon as the words were out, I remembered how my phone fizzled every time I picked it up on the day before the full moon. Maybe there was something to what he said, after all. I looked down at my feet and kicked a pebble out of my way.
‘So we’ll get a late fry-up on the way before we begin our tour.’ He took a moment to size me up. ‘You do look rather pale.’
I had a million questions for him, but no strength to marshal my thoughts. After a couple of twists and turns, we came out on a wide cobbled boulevard that sloped down to the east. A wave of faintness overcame me and I stumbled a little on the uneven surface. Hugh placed his arm around my shoulders, and I leaned in to him. That felt much better.
‘This is the Royal Mile,’ he murmured. ‘The Castle is up to our right, and Edinburgh Old Town is all around us. You can’t really see it with all the buildings in the way, but we’re up on top of a very high hill.’
We went down a steep incline to a small diner where I was served, as promised, a good fry-up. With that and the coffee, I was soon feeling put back to rights and ready to demand answers to questions which I would think of just as soon as my head cleared a little more. Satisfied, I sat back in my chair to find Hugh watching me.
‘You found Mrs. Mac’s comfortable enough, I hope?’
‘Apart from the God-awful furnishings, and her million knick-knacks, yes,’ I replied. ‘But I don’t really understand why you chose her place. Is she Kin?’
‘Oh, she is, but non-practicing,’ he offered. ‘She lets rooms to students sometimes. Myself, for example – I stayed with her for my university years.’
‘Ah, you must have been a Very Special Case.’
He laughed. ‘Indeed, Mrs. Mac and her little snobberies.’
‘How much does she know of what happened last month on Scarp?’
‘She knows enough to keep an eye on you,’ Hugh said wryly. ‘You will be quite safe until the next full moon. But the Venerable Nachtan will have all that sorted out long before we have to worry.’
All that? All that power and good feeling I’d experienced, he meant, all the wonderfulness when the magic tide rose in my blood. The Venerable Nachtan would end this? Small trickles of rain began on the window and the city streets quickly blurred.
I was counting on using that power at the next full moon to reach my mother, and no one was going to ‘sort that out’ for me, not even this Nachtan witch. I remembered then that I couldn’t share these plans with Hugh, so I merely set my lips together and forced an agreeable smile in the face I presented to him.
4
THE COFFEE AND GREASY BANGERS AND FRIES soon had me feeling more to rights and gave me the energy I needed to make the long haul back up the hill to the castle. For the most part, I ignored Hugh’s commentary on the places we passed, even the Harry Potter references, as I was too busy getting a feeling for this strange place.
Back home, the Kin had drawn a veil between the normal and the supernatural, a curtain dividing the two realms. For lack of a better term, I’d called it the Alt, short for alternate reality. But here in Edinburgh there was no such division and for those who could see it, the magic was thick in the air right here at the ancient top of the city’s hill. Tourists and their herders thronged the pedestrian street, yet beyond all this bustle I could see a whole other world going about its daily business. Next to the kilted modern man playing a bagpipe lament on the corner, there was a shoddy man in old-fashioned garb, battered top hat and all, leering at the crowds hungrily. A grim-faced bonneted woman dourly pushed her way through the crowds, a basket of laundry on her hip, until she turned down through one of the narrow gated alleys on the north side of the street.
It was all very strange to my eyes. I’d never seen so many people all together, both human and super natural, and as I scanned the crowd, I thought my eye caught a familiar figure. I quickly looked back into the heart of the bustle, searching. Could
it be? The man’s slight body had his back turned to me, but the way he held his narrow shoulders slightly hunched, and his shorn blond hair which was covered by a baseball cap... I could have sworn in that instant it was Willem the sorcerer, but that was impossible. He surely would have gotten himself far away from Edinburgh, the very heart of the Scottish Kin. I looked again, but the man had melted into the crowd if he had in fact been there.
I gave a shiver. Were hallucinations part of the after effects of the magical sedative? I turned to ask Hugh, but he was already nattering on.
‘You’ll want to be careful in Edinburgh, especially here in the Old Town,’ he said as he eyed a very shady elf lurking in a doorway. ‘There’s no veil here like you’re used to at home, and it’s too easy to let the Alt take over your senses. You especially always need to be vigilant, in your state.’
‘What is my state? Pariah? Societal outcast?’
He merely shook his head and increased his stride up the hill past the last of the buildings until we reached the large esplanade leading up to the Castle, a flattish parade ground before the Castle gates. Now that no houses blocked the view, from this vantage point near the top of the hill I could see for miles to the city’s spread all around.
‘Tell me about this Nachtan fellow,’ I said, hanging back a little. If he had plans to remove my incredible monthly powers against my will, I needed to be prepared. ‘What should I be expecting here?’
‘I’ll introduce you today, if he’s available, but first let’s have a tour of the castle. It has a very interesting history.’
I groaned inside at the thought of a history lesson, but let him take me by the hand. It felt good. He would tell me everything I needed to know in time, right now I would just enjoy being with him.
We bypassed the long line of tourists waiting their turn to go inside the Castle grounds. Instead we veered off to the right to a modern tunnel set in the side of the hill situated below the thick castle walls.
