by Diane Zahler
“I should not go away,” Father said in a low voice. “What if she were to worsen? Or perhaps the queen could stay behind to care for her.”
Mistress Tuileach drew in a sharp breath at that idea. “I think that is unnecessary, Your Majesty,” she said. “The princess is much better and will continue to improve, I am sure. And if anything were to happen, a swift rider could reach you within hours.”
“True,” Father mused. “If it were not such an important meeting . . . she is very precious to me, you know.” His words warmed my heart. “Will you watch her carefully, and send for me if there is any change?”
“I will, Your Majesty,” Mistress Tuileach assured him.
“And what of her hands?” Father asked. “Do you know what she has been doing?”
Mistress Tuileach spoke smoothly. “It was to be a surprise, Your Majesty. She has developed a great interest in healing herbs, and was readying a plot for an herb garden to be planted in the spring. I think she has worked too hard at it, for she has harmed her hands and weakened her health. I should have kept a closer watch on her.” I was amazed at her cleverness—and at the fact that she had learned my new interest, though of course I had not said a word about it.
“Oh!” Father said. “Healing herbs—is that a suitable pastime for a princess?”
“I believe that it is,” Mistress Tuileach replied. “Many’s the queen who has used her skill at herbology to aid her subjects. That is why I have encouraged it.”
“Very well,” Father said. “But I think you should keep her from that task while we are away. I do not want her to overwork herself again. And do something about her hands. They are a terrible sight!”
“I will, Your Majesty,” Mistress Tuileach promised again. I felt Father press a kiss on my brow and then heard him go out. When the door clicked behind him, I opened my eyes.
That was quick thinking! I said silently, with great admiration.
“You see that I am good for something besides tedious lessons and endless nagging,” Mistress Tuileach replied. I realized she was using words that I had thought at her many times over the years, and I blushed. For the second time in my life, I apologized and meant it.
Forgive me, I thought. You have been very good to me.
She smiled then, and I saw how it transformed her long face, making it almost pretty. I was beginning to understand that her face was very dear to me.
“You must try to sleep, child,” she advised me. “Rest while you can. The queen is highly suspicious of us both. By keeping my distance, I have been able to prevent her from hearing my thoughts since she arrived, but she is very strong. Once she sets her mind to it, I shall be exposed. We must get much done while she is away. We have very little time.”
We! I now had another ally. Surely three half-witches—you, Riona, and Liam—can outwit a single full-blooded witch, I said, encouraged. But my governess shook her head.
“The lady Orianna is very powerful. She wants your father, and a child, and the kingdom for herself. She has done her best to make that happen. And I fear that she has a purpose even darker than that, though I have not been able to discover it yet. Whatever it may be, only you stand in her way now.”
Instead of frightening me, Mistress Tuileach’s words made me all the more resolute. I would weave until my hands bled, and sew with lightning speed—all day and all night if I must!
I rose before dawn and with Mistress Tuileach’s help readied myself to go down to the lake, where I would meet Riona and Liam for the day’s weaving. I was determined to finish the cloth that day and begin sewing the shirts. Father and Lady Orianna left at daybreak, and soon after I climbed down the ivy and slipped away from the castle, taking care that the guards were inside and could not see me.
Riona and Liam were already waiting for me on the shore when I arrived. As I worked I silently told Riona and Liam of the scene at dinner and my governess’s surprising revelation, and Riona repeated my tale to the swans. They waved their necks back and forth as they listened to the description of Lady Orianna’s behavior and clapped their beaks approvingly when they heard of Mistress Tuileach’s unveiling as a half-witch.
I worked through the day with great will and concentration. Liam and Riona told stories and sang to keep me company, but eventually they drifted off into sleep. By the time the shadows grew long, I had finally finished making my cloth. I decided to take it back to the castle, where I could cut it and pin it into shirt shapes to be stitched. But as I rose, stretching the stiffness from my legs, I noticed that the swans were no longer near us. I shook Liam, waking him.
Where are my brothers? I demanded silently. He stood and yawned and looked around, growing more alert as he realized he could not see them on the water.
“Riona!” he called sharply, for she was napping too. “The swans are gone!”
We looked across the lake, where the geese and ducks still swam, but saw no sign of them.
They would not have flown south, would they? I asked anxiously.
“No, no, there is still food for them, and the lake is unfrozen,” Riona assured me. “I am afraid, though, that they may have paddled to the far end.” We looked at one another, and I knew my eyes were wide with worry. I did not want to go back to the Faerie spring.
“We must look for them,” Liam said decisively. “We will be safe if we stay together.” I nodded, and we set out for the narrow part of the lake. Again the brambles tore my clothes, and my fine shoes were quickly ruined, but I didn’t care. A great unease was growing in me.
As we approached the lake’s end, tendrils of cold, damp fog began to curl around us. They were almost like arms, or the tentacles of nameless beasts. I could feel their weight on my shoulders, clutching around my waist and about my ankles. Shivering, I reached out to Liam, and he took my hand. His touch made me feel a little braver. But there was still no sign of my brothers. Indeed, the mist was so thick now that we could see only a few feet in any direction. Still, we stumbled on.
All at once the air cleared completely, and I gasped. There, in front of me, was the spring, bubbling up among mossy rocks just as it had when I saw it before. My brothers were swimming at the place where the spring ran into the lake. Perched on a rock above them was a woman in a long silvery dress.
She was heartbreakingly beautiful, and she was not human. Her face was a woman’s, though far lovelier than any I had ever seen, even Lady Orianna’s. But her waist-length hair, which she combed as we watched, was as green as the moss on her rock, and the hands that grasped her comb were webbed.
“It is a merrow!” Riona whispered.
I clutched Liam’s hand more tightly. There were many tales of merrows—mermaid-like creatures that could take human form. Sometimes, I had heard, they were friendly, but more often their actions were malevolent. When this merrow fastened her gaze on me, I could see at once that she was of the second kind.
As the swans stretched their long necks toward her, the merrow opened her mouth and began to sing. Her voice was exquisite, as pure as the springwater that flowed beneath her. At first I could not understand her song; it seemed to be in another language. But as I strained to listen, the words grew clearer and clearer, and I shuddered at what they might mean.
“‘The trees are in their autumn beauty,
The woodland paths are dry,
Under the October twilight the water
Mirrors a still sky;
Upon the brimming water among the stones
Are five once-human swans.
“‘And now they drift on the still water,
Mysterious, beautiful;
Among what rushes will they build,
By what lake’s edge or pool
Delight men’s eyes, when you awake some day
To find they have flown away?’”
The merrow’s song, with its hint that the swans would soon be gone, terrified me, and I longed to confront her, to shout at her, to demand that she leave my brothers alone. What does she want? I
asked Liam.
He pointed to the swans. They pressed toward the merrow, two of them appearing especially entranced by her song. One I presumed was Baird, by the way his head swayed to the tune. The other, clearly, was Cullan.
I turned to see Riona’s reaction. Her face was like a sky on a stormy day: first a cloud of dismay, then a flash of alarm, then finally a thunderhead of anger passed over it. I grabbed at her skirt as she pushed past me toward the merrow.
Wait! I cautioned her. Is the creature not dangerous?
“I have my own small magic,” Riona declared. “She shall not take them—not if I can stop it!”
The merrow, her song finished, turned luminous gray-green eyes to us. “They want to go with me, Lady,” she said in a voice like water over stone. “They must do as they wish.”
“They are enchanted!” Riona cried. “They want what their enchantress wants—it is not their own desire.”
“And I too want what their enchantress wants,” said the merrow. I felt a stab of fear. So this was Lady Orianna’s doing!
“Meriel,” Liam whispered, “look about you. Try to find a cap made of feathers—a calotte. It must be near to her. It is our only chance. Riona is not strong enough to keep her from taking your brothers.”
But what—, I began. A cap? Was there a cap in the stories I had heard?
“She cannot swim back to Faerie without the cap,” he said. “Hurry!”
I saw that the merrow had begun to move slowly backward, toward the chasm in the earth that had called to me before. I forced my eyes from her and, with Liam, began to search among the rocks and brambles. As we hunted, we heard Riona muttering strings of words in a low tone. After each pronouncement, I looked up and saw the merrow’s backward progression briefly halted. The swans in front of her stopped as well, their webbed feet pushing frantically against the force of the spring that flowed into the lake. But moment by moment, the merrow shook off Riona’s spell and resumed her slow movement toward the opening to Faerie, pulling the swans along with her.
I saw no sign of a cap, but Liam suddenly said, “It must be behind her!” He leaped past the merrow. She turned as quickly as she could, but Riona’s chanting distracted her, and she was not fast enough. Liam let out a triumphant shout and held up a delicate calotte, a closefitting feathered skullcap as red as blood.
The merrow was enraged, and in her fury, her face twisted and changed and became as terrible as it had been lovely. “Give it to me!” she hissed, her long webbed fingers reaching for the calotte.
“If you want it, and with it your power to swim beneath the waves,” Liam said, holding it just out of her grasp, “you must release the swans.” I was amazed that he did not flinch before the merrow’s wrath. I was frightened myself, for as she grew angrier, the lake began to take on a strange dark look and smell, like molten metal. When a stiff breeze stirred the water into whitecaps, I shivered in the sudden cold.
“Release them!” Liam shouted into the wind, which was blowing stronger now. “Release them, or I shall burn the cap!”
The merrow shrieked in anger and dread. “No!” she wailed. “Do not burn it! I release them—give me the calotte!” She stretched out her webbed hand again, and the swans, suddenly set free, were pushed back into the lake by the force of the springwater. Quickly they paddled into the reeds at the edge, taking shelter from the wild storm of wind and water.
“Give it to her!” Riona cried, her dark curls whipping across her face, and Liam held out the cap. His hand and the merrow’s touched briefly, and I watched in horror as his skin blistered as if he had plunged it in fire.
The merrow placed the calotte on her head. As we stared, astonished, her feet beneath her silver gown seemed to fuse together, and in just an instant, from waist to toe she had become a scaled fishlike creature. She slipped from the mossy rocks into the water of the spring, gave a strong thrust with her fish tail, and disappeared into the mouth of the cave that led to Faerie.
8
The Escape:
And Where They Went
Neither Liam nor I was close enough to catch Riona as she collapsed, drained by the intensity of her struggle with the merrow. My breath seized in my throat as we ran to her and I saw how pale she was. But in a moment her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled weakly at us.
“Oh, Liam,” she whispered, “however did you remember the calotte?”
We helped Riona to her feet, where she wobbled uncertainly.
“Don’t you recall Mother’s tales?” Liam asked, supporting her with an arm around her shoulder. He explained to me, “When we were small she told us about merrows—only her stories were always about the males, with their horrible green skin and red feather caps. Without their caps, she said, they are doomed to keep their human shapes and cannot return to Faerie. The tales gave me nightmares, so I never forgot them.”
“I remember now,” Riona murmured.
Let me see your hand, I said silently to Liam. He held it out. Red and blistered where he had touched the merrow, it looked even worse than my hands did. His fingers must have hurt terribly, but Liam did not flinch as I cradled them.
A paste of aloe and comfrey? I asked Riona.
“Exactly right,” she replied, her voice stronger now, and I could not help feeling a touch of pride. “You have been learning as you spun and wove, Meriel!”
Dusk was coming on as we made our way as swiftly as we could back around the lake. I did not want to be anywhere near the Faerie spring when darkness fell. My brothers awaited us at the path. Thankful to see them safe, I ran ahead, and as they crowded around me, I tried to hug them all at once.
“You must stay away from the spring,” Riona warned them. “The queen is not here, but her powers are working against us. Beware!”
The swans nodded and clapped their beaks to signal their understanding. Quickly I gathered up my bundle of cloth, but before I left, I went to Liam and touched his injured hand again gently. You were very brave, I told him, and he flushed with pleasure. Then I bade farewell to my brothers, calling silently as always, Behave yourself when I am gone! to Cullan though I knew he could not hear me.
I was dreadfully tired walking up the hill toward the castle. As I approached, I saw a flash of red—one of Lady Orianna’s dreadful guards. I ducked behind a bush, my heart hammering, and watched him march about, too swollen with self-importance to notice me. As soon as he was out of sight, I ran to the vine and scrambled, exhausted, up and in through Cullan’s window.
I dared not stop working. Mistress Tuileach brought broth and toast to my bedchamber, and as I told her of the merrow and her feather cap, she showed me how to cut and pin the cloth I had woven to make it into shirts.
“A merrow?” she marveled. “I have heard of such things, though I thought they were only sea creatures.”
Obviously not, I said, silently but tartly, as I began my clumsy work as a seamstress.
“And a spring from Faerie, just as the stories say! I wonder . . .”
What?
She shook her head, but I knew what she wondered. What other menaces could Lady Orianna summon from the lands beneath the earth? I shivered, and my sudden movement caused me to jab my finger with the needle. The shirt I was sewing was quickly spotted with my blood. I kept trying to make my stitches as straight as I could, but the results were laughable, with uneven seams and zigzag hems. After the physical toil of reaping, spinning, and weaving, the drudgery of sewing together the pieces of fabric was a torment to me. My eyes soon grew weary and my back stiff from bending over my work. Oh, how I hated it!
When I could do no more, I slept for a few hours, but I woke, startled, to Mistress Tuileach shaking me.
“The king and queen are back!” she told me, her high brow creased with dismay.
Already? But why? I asked her, frightened.
“I do not know,” Mistress Tuileach replied grimly. “But I believe that your resolve to stay silent may be sorely tested today.”
In a panic I
flew out of bed, scrabbling for my clothes.
But I cannot speak! I cried mutely. My words will kill my brothers!
“I know,” Mistress Tuileach said. “I will help you in any way I can.”
I ran to her then and threw my arms around her. Her embrace was warm and reassuring. Thank you, I told her. I don’t know what I would do without you.
The day had dawned gray and threatening, and there was a chill in the air that clung to the stone walls of the castle despite the fires on every hearth. It was only late October, very early for weather this cold. Through the windows I could see a frost on the fields, the first hint of winter to come. I could not help thinking of Heart Lake, surely rimmed now with ice.
I was summoned soon after breakfast, and Mistress Tuileach came with me to the throne room, where the roaring fire did little to dispel the cold that rose through my thin shoes from the marble floor. Father and the queen sat in splendor, their courtiers ranged around them. We approached, then dipped in low curtsies.
“Well!” Father said, smiling at me. “You are up and about, daughter! Are you quite well at last?”
I nodded forcefully, smiling back at him. I wondered that he did not mark my red eyes, tired and swollen from a night of sewing. I could tell that the queen was staring at me, but I did my best to avoid meeting her gaze lest she read my thoughts.
“Your stepmother was not happy to be away from you when you were ill,” Father continued, “so we concluded our business at once and hurried back. We are very relieved to see you recovered.”
I curtsied in the queen’s direction without meeting her eyes, and smiled again.
Mistress Tuileach hurried to fill my silence. “The princess is greatly improved, Your Majesty, though we are still trying not to strain her delicate throat.” I tried to look as delicate as I could manage.
“Very wise,” Father declared. “Now, Meriel, your stepmother the queen has had a marvelous idea, which she conveyed to me on the journey back.” I exchanged a nervous look with Mistress Tuileach as he went on. “She feels that your education may have been somewhat . . . neglected. This is, of course, not a criticism of you, Mistress Tuileach, for there is only so much a governess can do.”
