by Diana Rivers
Pell looked like a storm cloud with her brows knotted together. I held her stare and would not look away, though inside I trembled. Suddenly she laughed, too. “Well, this new one is coming of age. Maybe she will be of some use to us after all.”
We reached Alyeeta’s clearing just before dusk, only slightly delayed by my pathfinding. This time the entryway was easy to see. The ivy that had covered it before had been woven back upon itself. A warm little quiver of light reached out through it. Eager for the sight of Alyeeta’s face, I rushed in first, then stood there blinking, blinded by the lamplight.
“Well, she looks no more promising this time than the last. Why would you want to waste valuable Witch time on such unlikely material, answer me that?” Those were the words that greeted me on entering Alyeeta’s shelter. I had no need to see the face to know whose voice that was.
Another voice answered from the gloom. “Telakeet, do you plan to waste, use up, and expend your whole store of charm on this first meeting, or will you save some of it for another time?” This was followed by a musical laugh that made the hair rise on the nape of my neck.
By then I was able to distinguish Telakeet. She was in a chair by the hearth, with a stout stick resting against her knee. I swung to face her and was gathering myself for an answer. Quickly, before I could respond to her insults with my own, Pell stepped between me and the source of my anger. She put out her hand in greeting and said quickly, “I am Pell. This is Renaise and Tazzi, whom I see you know already, and Josleen and Megyar and Tzaneel and Jhemar...” She was trying to name us each in turn as we crowded into the shelter, or rather poured in, seeming to fill up all the space. Telakeet ignored Pell’s hand and glowered at us.
As soon as we had all squeezed inside, Alyeeta appeared from one of her stump chambers. She was clearly flustered. “Well,” she said tartly, “I know I said to come with all your women, but I had not expected such an army.”
“And this is not half of them, Mother,” Pell answered with amusement. “We left twice this many or more at home. Even so, we had to throw the pebbles three times, and then three times more to see who would be chosen for this honor.”
I leaned over to whisper indignantly to Pell, “There is not a word of truth in that last part. We did not throw the pebbles even once.”
“I know,” Pell whispered back, “but the way it all happened was so dull. Who could tell that story with any pleasure?”
Just then Telakeet leaned forward. “And so you are Pell,” she said, pointing with her stick. Ignoring Alyeeta, she seemed prepared to continue her tirade with Pell as its focus.
Pell threw up her hands before her in mock horror. “Please, Mother, spare me your flattery. I have no need for it at the moment.”
Before Telakeet could begin again, the other, the one who had laughed in that astonishing way, stepped forward. She seemed to change as she came out of the shadows. I could see that her yellow hair was almost golden in the light and her eyes were bright blue. She had a Shokarn fairness of skin that startled me. Her countenance was fresh and open. She appeared as bright and sunny as Telakeet was dark and stormy, yet there was about her something that made my skin crawl. One could not look at her clearly or directly. She slipped out of focus. The air around her seemed to bend and shiver. She looked young and yet not young, beautiful yet plain or almost ugly, tender and gentle, yet mocking. Her hand clasp was both warm and cool. Looking into my eyes, she said softly, as if speaking for my ears alone, “So you are Tazzi. You are indeed very lovely. That one with the sweet tongue and pretty manners is named Telakeet, and here I am called Shalamith, though in other places I have other names.”
“Tazzi and I have already met, as you heard me say,” Telakeet burst in rudely.
Shalamith went on, ignoring this interruption as if it were no more than the buzzing of a fly. “Ever since I first heard there were young women of power I have wanted to find some, especially after the Zarn’s edict. It is a great pleasure to be meeting you at last.” With that she even made a slight bow.
I could feel the mockery in her voice and see it in her smile, but there was music in her, the sensuous grace of the snake and a kind of golden glow about her. If Telakeet was all rudeness, Shalamith was all charm. I found myself bowing in return with a large, foolish grin on my face. I knew her charm to be Witch’s artifice, but I would gladly have left my hand in hers forever. In fact, if she had asked me for it at that moment, I would have given her the hand off my arm or the foot off my leg with pleasure. I would certainly have given her the heart out of my breast. All this time I was very much aware of Alyeeta just at the edge of my vision, watching me; Alyeeta, whom I had rushed in to see and had not even greeted yet.
As the heat rushed up my arm and into my face from Shalamith’s touch I heard a low growl, almost like a beast. Telakeet said in a deep, gravelly voice, “Leave off, Shalamith, let the girl do her own thinking. Mind-bending, as you well know, is a far worse crime than rudeness.”
I saw Shalamith change again as if water had rippled through her being. She withdrew her hand and stepped back, her face suddenly closed and unreachable. “I only meant to test her powers and see how susceptible she was.” She shook her head, then laughed again in that way that made me shiver as if someone had run their finger nails across my soul. Clearly, she thought me far more susceptible than Pell, whom she ignored. One part of me felt outraged at being so used. Another longed to hold her hand again, to have her look into my eyes again. It was as if the sun had withdrawn its face from me. Then Alyeeta stepped up next to me and put her arm around my waist. She slipped her hand up under my tunic so that the warmth of her palm cupped my breast. Instantly Shalamith’s charms faded like the moon at dawn.
At that moment Telakeet said something to Shalamith. She spoke so low I could not understand, or perhaps she was speaking in that other language. Shalamith answered sharply, with no music in her voice this time. Suddenly they were in a contest of power, trying to stare each other down. The air around them quivered with force. The rest of us shifted awkwardly from foot to foot till Alyeeta said in a loud, commanding voice, “Sit down, all of you. You are crowding my space like so many circling wolves.” She swept the gathering with her eyes. All of us obeyed, even the other Witches. Somehow we all found space on her cushions. Her shelter seemed to stretch and reshape around us.
Alyeeta leaned back then, her side pressed to mine and her eyes half-closed, while Pell told how we had gathered and how many more there were, this time all of it the truth. From time to time Alyeeta nodded, seeming half asleep. Then suddenly she sat up straight, all mockery and alertness again. “All ignorant green girls you are bringing together. Who will teach them and train them and guide these powers of which they know so little?”
Pell turned on her. “Are you speaking to undertake this useful task, Mother?”
“A thankless one, more likely,” Alyeeta said with asperity. “Who knows if they are even capable of being taught?”
“And that is the mark of a good teacher, the one who teaches well those who are not easily taught.”
There was no pleasure for me in listening to Pell and Alyeeta trade words. It was more like hearing two stones rubbing and grinding against each other than like ordinary human talk. I cast a look about, but no one else seemed to take notice or to care. In the end, Alyeeta rolled her eyes to the ceiling and lifted up her hands. “Goddess, why was I the one you sent to market when so many others could have been chosen?”
“Oh come, Alyeeta, you would not have missed this on your life,” Shalamith said with her great shining smile. Pell laughed aloud. For once it was Alyeeta who looked discomfited.
When our stories of the present had all been told, Telakeet and Alyeeta fell to trading tales from the time of the Witch-kills, terrible, bloody stories of death and destruction. It was almost as if they had forgotten we were there, or perhaps they spoke with intention for our ears, though for what lessons I could not imagine. Telakeet spoke with great bitterness.
Though it did not make me like her more, still I began to better understand her sharp tongue, to see how it had shaped and grown. The others listened wide-eyed. Hearing their tales, it was clear to me that the Witches were far older than they seemed, Alyeeta especially.
Shalamith said little, but watched from the shadows, once in awhile making a face of distaste. After some time of this, she sat up suddenly. The light flashed on her face and in her golden hair. “Enough of all that blood and death and fire! There is more than enough of it out there. Why bring it in here to us? Now is the time for music.” With that she drew a small ferl from her pouch, the smallest I had ever seen. Moving forward into the light, she began to strum and sing. If her speaking voice had charm, her singing voice had magic in it. I think she could have summoned a flock of birds with it or melted city gates. None of us was immune, not even Pell. We all sat up and leaned toward her like flowers toward the sun. Even Alyeeta and Telakeet left off their talk of old battles. Shalamith’s voice reached into the very core of my being, and I gave myself over to it as to a lover. We might have stayed listening forever in that charmed circle if Telakeet had not finally thumped on the floor with her stick. Pell sprang up suddenly as if released. She said in a loud voice and with deliberate rudeness, “Well, Witches, why are we here? I cannot think you summoned us all on that hard ride to be insulted or to be charmed, entertaining though they both may be in their own way. I must suppose this gathering serves some other purpose. It is late. We will soon grow weary. The time has come to talk.”
“You could at least have waited for the end of Shalamith’s song,” Alyeeta said accusingly. “Have you no manners?”
“None at all,” Pell answered instantly. “I was born lacking them. Besides, we may as well wait for the snows of summer to fall or the flowers of winter to bloom. Shalamith’s song has no end, as you well know. Now, if there is nothing more to talk of, we may as well go home again, for there are others there who need us.”
At that Alyeeta sat up, all seriousness. “Well then, as you say, the time has come to talk.”
After looking all around, Pell sat down again, but slowly, as if ready to leap up at any moment. I felt an unreasoning anger toward her. I wanted Shalamith to go on singing forever. When she stopped, slipped away her ferl, and slid back into the shadows, she looked like an ordinary woman of indeterminate age. All that golden glow was gone, as if the light of a lamp had been suddenly blown out. My heart ached with longing for her music.
Now the real talk began in earnest. It went on for most of that night. Much was decided there among us, all of it to Pell’s great satisfaction. It was agreed that we would move our camp to Alyeeta’s clearing, since the space both in her shelter and around it could accommodate many more. For the moment, at least, the other Witches would stay there also. From there the Star-Born would begin gathering and assembling, as well as training. The final plan was for us to move west and north together, going toward the coast and as far away from the Zarn’s troops as possible. There we hoped to find some place to settle, at least for the winter. Alyeeta, for her part, seemed to have such a place in mind, though clearly at that moment she did not choose to divulge it. For the time being, Pell’s shelter would remain a healing place for the burned ones. Unfortunately, we could expect more and more of them in the future, and it was plain they would need a calmer place to mend and be cared for than the center of a busy camp. If she was willing, Arnella would stay and care for them there with Etheryn’s help.
Toward the end of this I began to doze. For me the talk turned to a murmur, like wind in the trees. Suddenly I heard Pell say loudly, “Alyeeta, where are we all supposed to sleep?” She was standing again, surveying the scene.
Alyeeta stood up so quickly I almost fell sideways. I must have dozed off leaning against her. “You are not ‘supposed’ to sleep anywhere. This is not a town hostelry. I am not equipped to accommodate whatever passing mob chooses to lodge here. This is my own small private shelter. It is possible you may stretch out there where you are sitting and sleep against your neighbor. If that does not suit you, you may find lodgings outside in your cloak next to your horse. For myself, this day has been a long one. I need some sleep and some healing dreams.” Saying this, she began dousing the lamps and pouring sand around the edges of the fire. Soon only a small handful of flames still burned at the center of the hearth.
I stood up slowly, stupid with weariness. When Pell, who had been attending to others, began to move toward me as if with intention, Alyeeta quickly came and took my hand. “You I can find room for in my bed,” she said loudly.
When I lay beside her, wrapped in her arms, she whispered eagerly, “Things are moving, Little One, moving and shifting. The Zarns are right to be afraid. The wheel turns faster. We will have to learn to ride the chariot or be crushed beneath it. I feel some larger shift coming. Even now it reaches out. Somehow we must be ready, though for what we do not know. We must be ready for something we have never seen before. A good trick if one can manage it. If I have been bored in my life before, I think I will never be again. I may die without tasting the luxury of boredom again. So be it. May we all have the courage and the wits for what is coming.” In all this she sounded so much like Pell I had to bite my lip not to laugh aloud. Then she pressed me against her. I could feel the heat rise between my legs and words no longer mattered. Later, before she let me sleep, Alyeeta had me tell her the whole story of my ride with Hereschell and how he was received at Pell’s shelter.
***
In spite of their constant sparring, Pell and Alyeeta seemed to have come to some agreement over me. After that first night, they shared me fairly between them, exchanging a look or word or a slight nod to indicate who had claim, as if I were some baggage to be traded back and forth and had no mind or will of my own. Still, I had my choices. I could have said no. But what did it really matter? I got my pleasure. One body was as good as another. Alyeeta was far more loving and caring and tender than Pell, but I felt Pell equally entitled. Somehow I did not much care. It was all distraction any how. Whichever of them wished to claim my body was welcome to it.
That next morning, I saw Renaise going about the clearing with a ball of string and some little stakes, as if measuring everything for use. When Alyeeta rushed out indignantly to ask what she was doing, Renaise answered calmly, “Trying to lay out this camp to the best of my ability.”
Alyeeta was bristling visibly, her voice full of acid. “Remember, young woman, that this is still my clearing.”
“I understand very well that it is your clearing, Alyeeta. Now we can be here or not be here; it cannot be both ways. If we are to be here, then this camp must be better organized than where we are now, for your sake as well as ours. Believe me, you would not be pleased to have your clearing look as Pell’s shelter does at this moment.”
Without another word to Renaise, Alyeeta turned on her heel and stormed back into her shelter, saying to me in passing, “Respect and gratitude are surely not among the gifts of the Great Star.” I almost choked on my own laughter, but managed to keep a straight face until she passed. As I watched Renaise going about her self-appointed task with such skill and confidence, I realized she had become someone to reckon with. Seeing her stand up to Alyeeta in that way, I even felt some grudging admiration for her.
For that next week or so there was little rest for any of us, and less sleep. I suffered under the double burden of being the object of others’ passions. Pell had far more stores hidden away than any of us knew. New storage had to be set up, and all that was not needed for the healing space had to be moved carefully by backpack and horsepack without arousing suspicion or endangering our new camp. This was no easy task, I must tell you. And I no longer had the shelter of being a follower. I was a leader and a guide now, responsible for the safety of others. Goddess knows, though, there were moments when I longed to let my head nod forward and have my horse follow after the next horse’s tail. Now there were women who followed after me in that sam
e way. I had to remind them often to pay some heed to where they went and to watch for signs. And Mother help me, I had to remind myself to have some patience with their thoughtlessness.
I went back and forth between Pell’s shelter and Alyeeta’s so many times that now it all seems blurred together in my memory. But one time comes clear to me. I can still see a picture in my head of that woman seated in front of her wagon. I did not come on her unexpectedly, of course, for I no longer traveled in that head-blind way, but went with all my senses alert. She had set up her little camp in the ‘Y’ of the road where she could catch all comers. With her cards spread out before her, she was seated cross-legged on a blanket as if to read her own fortune or another’s. Behind her, tucked under the trees, was her travel-wagon, gaily painted with bright decorations of yellow, red, and orange—such a wagon as I had sometimes seen used to sell from at markets instead of a booth. Next to it her little dappled horse dozed in the shade, head hanging, eyes half-closed.
She looked up at me expectantly, as if I were the very one she waited for. Though I knew myself to be well disguised, still I felt a chill of fear rush up my spine. Her appearance was so strange and striking, it was hard not to stare. Her loose, brightly colored shirt revealed a large tattoo covering her shoulder and running up her neck. A many-faceted blue crystal hung on a chain between her breasts. Her earrings were like flashing crescent moons against her dark skin.
Suddenly, with a start, I noticed she had drawn in the dirt in front of her the very sign I wore hidden under my tunic, a triangle inside a circle inside a triangle. I was not quick enough to hide the shock and surprise that crossed my face. Hastily averting my head, I touched my cap, mumbled, “Best of days to you, Goodwoman,” and made ready to pass quickly by. This seemed some sort of trap laid out before me.
Instantly she was on her feet, her cards scattered in the dust. I had the feeling that she meant to leap before my horse to stop me if that proved necessary. “You know that sign,” she said quickly. “I saw it in your face.” When I could not form my answer fast enough, she went on. “You do not say yes, yet neither do you say no, so the answer is clear enough. Come sit by me a little while and I will tell your cards.”
