Being a Witch, and Other Things I Didn't Ask For

by Sara Pascoe

  ‘I know,’ Bryony said. ‘So we’ve got about two weeks at best…’

  There was a moment of quiet. Raya thought she heard someone sigh. ‘I’m afraid so–’ it was Ms Watts.

  ‘Hold that thought, Sonya. I need to secure the line,’ Bryony said, and the transmission cut out.

  Raya tiptoed about halfway back down the balcony, then returned to the room with her normal clunking steps and knocked on the door.

  ‘Come on in, it’s your room too,’ Bryony sang out.

  Raya nodded, fiddled with the bedspread. ‘I thought I’d take a nap, if that’s OK.’

  Bryony checked herself in the small mirror on the wooden table. ‘Actually, we don’t have time. It’s time to go to Macide’s for dinner.’

  A little hesitantly, Raya knocked on the door.

  ‘Come in, come in, no need to knock,’ Macide said. In the far part of the living area three pretty couches surrounded a coffee table. Closer to the door was a table laid for dinner with a dish of rice, some flat breads, and three jugs in the centre.

  ‘What would you ladies like to drink? Wine? Sherbet? Water?’ Macide asked.

  Raya translated. Bryony chose wine. Raya asked Macide what sherbet was – a fruit juice concoction without alcohol. She picked that. Bryony and Raya were invited to take their seats when a man walked in through another door a bit awkwardly carrying a steaming terrine. He placed it on the table and beamed at the two women.

  ‘This is my son, Abbas,’ Macide said. ‘Here are Bryony and Rachel, the two I told you about.’ Abbas was younger and fitter than Raya expected given the way Strutting Girl went on. He was wiry with broad shoulders, thick dark hair and beard and sparkling, playful eyes below the edge of his snow white turban. Raya liked him immediately and tried to ask Bryony what she thought through head talk, but she wasn’t answering.

  Dinner was delicious, something like a lamb curry, and rice with bits of veg and herbs. Her body still craved food in a way it never had before her stint in old England. They laughed and ate and joked with Raya translating for Bryony, except that she seemed rather distracted and worried.

  After dinner they relaxed on the couches. Macide and Abbas were curious about how Bryony and Raya came to Istanbul. Bryony fed Raya material through head chat, spinning a story about escaping cruel treatment in England and embarking to Istanbul where they’d heard women were treated decently, could even own businesses, and certainly weren’t killed for having a few skills. But Bryony had a question. It sounds like they’re saying ‘Istanbul’. I thought the name was Constantinople at this time. Raya asked their hosts. They chuckled.

  ‘Ah, yes. All you Western Europeans call it “Constantinople” but no one uses that name here. Not really, except on some official documents and things. “Istanbul”, my dear!’ Abbas paused and grinned, waiting for her to get it. Then the penny dropped and she heard the meaning of the word, not just the familiar sound of the name.

  ‘Oh, “The City”, like there’s only one!’ Raya said. Abbas and Macide laughed.

  ‘So how did you come to learn Turkish, my dear?’ Macide asked. She sounded grandmotherly, or at least auntie-like.

  Raya retold the tale in her newly acquired Ottoman Turkish. This was fun. The words danced across her tongue and made her lips do new tricks. She was smiling and laughing at the joy of it. Macide and Abbas were charmed, elbowing each other and remarking on her Turkish.

  There was a scratching at the door. Abbas opened it and crouched down to stroke Oscar. He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at spots of bright blood on his fingers. ‘Looks like your friend’s been in a few scrapes. Probably with the other cats that get fed, nothing serious.’

  ‘You should see the other guy,’ Oscar said to the two witches then sauntered to a warm corner and curled up.

  ‘Raya, ask about them – what brought them here. Macide mentioned she’s from someplace else,’ Bryony said.

  ‘Now? I’m so tired,’ Raya answered.

  ‘Yes, now. It’s polite to show interest in other people… and if we’re stuck here for a while, we’ll need to know how foreigners get by.’

  The idea was like a bucket of cold water. She realised she’d been carried along by their good luck over the last hours, a welcome break. Yes, being alive was great, but now she had to face being a teenager in the wrong place and time with no clue how to get home. And the supposed expert sent in for the job – seemingly useless. She knew she had a bad feeling about them sending Bryony to save her from the witch trials. She inhaled and held it a second before asking the adult witch, ‘So, YOU can’t get us home from here, either? Not even worth trying?’ A not unobvious ember of resentment glowed at her centre.

  Bryony looked reproachful, and clamped her thoughts down – a metal security gate clanged shut. ‘Just ask them, please?’

  Raya translated the question to Macide and Abbas but only partially paid attention to what they said. A steam train of emotions was pulling in.

  Macide’s story played out on her face as she retold it. She was from the Balkans and the Ottomans took her brother from the family when he was ten. Apparently this was a thing they did, to train up workers as they wanted. Her brother was clever and rose up in the ranks of the Palace and eventually sent for his sister, Macide. But that was once they were adults, and Macide’s first husband and two kids had died of the plague. Boy, a lot of that going around. So she came here and lived in the Palace along with her brother. That got Raya’s attention – sounded pretty cool.

  Macide pushed herself up from the couch and sighed. ‘Let me get us coffee and sweets,’ she said and bustled away.

  Abbas lowered his voice. ‘But then my uncle fell out of favour with the Sultan and was beheaded,’ he said.

  This brought Raya’s attention fully back to the room. Everyone was quiet for a moment, the only sounds were Macide’s clinking china at a distance.

  ‘So who is the Sultan now? I’m afraid we’re ignorant of such things in much of Europe,’ Bryony asked, and Raya translated. She knew Bryony was trying to pinpoint their exact time.

  ‘Oh,’ Abbas sighed, ‘it’s Crazy Ibrahim.’ He shook his head, as Macide returned with the coffee and a plate of sweets.

  ‘He’s a real piece of work this Sultan and we’ve had our share of oddballs,’ Macide said as she arranged the things on the table. Bryony reached for a piece of Turkish delight.

  Macide and Abbas told the rest of their story – how Macide met his father, a janissary, a special sort of soldier, but retired at the time, and how Macide’s brother organised them getting this han to run.

  ‘When my father died about ten years ago, the han went to my mother and myself,’ Abbas added.

  ‘And then, of course, Abbas has run the place fulltime since he was injured fighting the Venetians,’ Macide said, her mood darkened.

  ‘Come on, Mother. Let’s not go into all that,’ Abbas said.

  Macide dabbed at her eyes and gave a taut smile. ‘Right then, let’s tell Abbas how we met – there’s a good story.’

  Macide retold how Strutting Girl and her mother cruelly teased her, including some pretty funny imitations. ‘That woman in the baths,’ she told Bryony and Raya, ‘her uncle is a top advisor to the Sultan, and he’s in charge of a lot of public funding, including for this han.’

  Abbas swirled the dredges in his coffee cup. ‘So, do you two know how to read coffee grounds?’ Abbas said.

  Bryony sat forward. ‘I used to know – a Turkish friend in England taught me,’ Raya translated. Abbas smiled and put the saucer on top of his cup, then turned it this way and that, flipped it over, and handed it to Bryony. She took the saucer off and studied the muddy smudges. She frowned and looked some more. ‘I’m afraid I’m not seeing anything at the moment.’

  Raya reached for the cup from Bryony.

  There was a firm knock at Macide’s door. It was one of the groundsmen. He wanted food for offerings to the jinn – those spirits people fed here, like at the dress sellers at
the market.

  ‘The situation has become quite dire, two more have moved into the courtyard. They’re teasing the camels and other livestock something terrible,’ the guard said.

  Abbas got up and hobbled to the where the dinner dishes were. ‘We can’t have that,’ he said and heaped left-overs onto two plates. The guard left, relieved. Raya tried to ask Bryony through head chat if these jinn were real, but she either didn’t hear, or still wasn’t talking to her. Raya sighed inwardly and looked at the coffee cup she’d been holding. At first it just looked like the mess you’d expect, then things started to take form. She concentrated, could see a man. It was Abbas, then another. Then the scene started to move, like a miniature black and white film. She was afraid if she looked away, it would all stop – afraid to blink.

  ‘It was your good friend, wasn’t it?’ Raya said. You were trying to protect him when you were injured. Then he stayed behind – didn’t come home with the rest of the soldiers. He married someone there,’ Raya said.

  Abbas and Macide stared at Raya.

  ‘He’s sorry. Your friend is truly sorry,’ Raya added.

  Abbas and Macide crowded around Raya, peered into the coffee cup and asked her how she’d seen all that.

  Raya stretched with a yawn worthy of a cat. ‘I don’t know. A little scene just appeared in the coffee cup.’

  ‘Praise be to God. This girl is gifted,’ Abbas exclaimed.

  A thick, opaque silence filled the room as the woman and girl readied for bed. They took their long dresses off to sleep in the light cotton undergarments. Oscar jumped onto Bryony’s bed, turned a few circles and settled down.

  ‘I don’t know why you’re so mad at me. I mean I’M the one who saved us!’ Raya folded her headscarf with a vengeance.

  Bryony turned around from sorting her bed. Started to say something a couple of times then didn’t. Finally she said, ‘I think you’re the one who’s mad at me.’

  Like a pin in a balloon, Raya let fly. ‘Wouldn’t YOU be? I thought you were supposed to “save” us – fat lot of good that did. I KNEW you couldn’t do it – had a feeling. I mean you lose everything – your cat, other people’s kids – why would anyone think you could have fixed this?’

  Bryony flushed and fussed with the pillows. ‘You’re right, Raya.’ Her voice was small. ‘I failed – we all know that. And I don’t understand why.’

  Raya felt guilty about being so harsh, but it was all true, and she’d been holding it all back for a while.

  Bryony took a huge breath and plunked down on the bed. ‘Thank God you saved us.’ She shook her head. ‘I can’t tell you how grateful I am.’ She was quiet for a moment. ‘And I’m so sorry I failed you – us.’ She leaned forward and took the girl’s hands across the space between their beds. Raya wrenched away.

  ‘Raya, I’ve got to talk to you about something else – about our situation now.’

  ‘This should be good,’ Oscar sat up and opened his eyes as though he was about to watch a show. The two witches ignored him.

  ‘Raya, we may not be able to get home. We have to face this possibility.’

  ‘Stop saying that! Why do you keep saying that?’

  ‘Because it’s true?’ Oscar said.

  Bryony shooed the cat off her bed and opened their door to the balcony. ‘Why don’t you go take a walk?’ She encouraged the cat out with a gentle foot under his midsection.

  ‘I can take a hint.’ Oscar sauntered out.

  Bryony waited a beat, seemed to be gathering her thoughts which she had kept locked down since dinner. ‘I contacted IHQ while you were out with Oscar…’ she angled an eyebrow, ‘…as you know. And we’ve got our work cut out for us.’

  ‘So we CAN get home? Make up your mind!’

  ‘Possibly.’ The word hung in the air, like fate itself, inscrutable, it taunted with hope.

  ‘Headquarters confirmed it definitely was you who got us here. And they put us in the time frame that matches with the Sultan Abbas mentioned – Ibrahim Deli, they call him. “Deli” means crazy. We most likely slid over to a different place, but in the same time, a common transport error.’ Bryony paused. ‘And a life-saving one.’ She smiled gratitude, but she looked as exhausted as Raya felt.

  Raya started to say something, but Bryony put her hand up. ‘Let me tell you everything before you ask questions, OK?’ The young witch nodded.

  ‘We’ve got about two weeks to get home. After that it’s very unlikely, or…’ Bryony stifled a sigh ‘Or impossible. And Rachel, it has to be you who does the transport.’ Bryony looked at her, as though she was waiting for this to sink in.

  The fear train pulled all the way into the station. ‘Why only two weeks? What do you mean I have to do it? That’s not fair!’ It came out whiny, like a little kid when they don’t get an ice cream. But she didn’t mean it like that. She meant it in the infinite order of the universe sort of way, or lack thereof as Jake would point out. Don’t think about him – it’ll only make things worse, she told herself.

  Bryony heaved a sigh. ‘Of course it’s not fair, Raya. It’s nothing to do with “fair”. It has to do with the natural laws of time travel. Whoever drives the bus in has to drive it back out. We both had transported to old England – so either, or both, of us could have transported us out.’

  A chill ran through her. ‘Driving the bus’ – just like she had told Jake. In control of her own life was what she had wanted. And now she was responsible, not only for the fine mess she found herself in, but for someone else’s situation, too. Didn’t feel as good as she’d anticipated. There were soft sounds of animals shifting in their stalls outside.

  ‘But if we don’t know what went wrong, how can we fix it?’ Raya asked.

  ‘Headquarters is looking into it as fast as they can – they’ve brought extra people in. Meanwhile, the best thing we can do is get you trained up in transporting as quickly as possible. That means practising every day. Around here at first – no time travel. We’ll start tomorrow.’

  They stopped talking – nothing left to say, but sleep wouldn’t take her. Tendrils of moonlight through the shutters’ slats graced the plaster ceiling. She could tell Bryony wasn’t sleeping either.

  ‘Did you hear anything about Jake?’ Raya asked.

  There was a beat before Bryony answered. ‘I’m afraid he’s had a setback. Another emergency surgery – I think for his leg, this time. We should know more tomorrow.’

  ‘Help! They’re after me! Let me in!’ It was Oscar.

  Raya stumbled to semi-wakefulness, not long after she’d finally fallen asleep and opened the shuttered window. Oscar jumped in.

  ‘Who’s after you?’ Bryony blinked awake.

  He crouched on the floor and kept glancing up at the window, his ears flattened against his head, his tail twitching like it had a life of its own. ‘I don’t know – never saw anything or anyone like them.’

  There was a whoosh and a gentle thud, like something landing on Bryony’s bed, but Raya couldn’t see anything. She opened the shutters further to let more moonlight in, but it didn’t help. Oscar hissed and growled, in full Hallowe’en cat mode.

  ‘There you are, Cat – you’re mine!’ a raspy male voice snarled. Raya stared at the foot of Bryony’s bed where the voice seemed to come from, but she still couldn’t see anyone.

  ‘Can’t you see him?’ Bryony asked. She reached towards the foot of her bed, and poked her finger slowly back and forth, as though she was touching something.

  ‘Where?’ Raya said.

  ‘On the end of my bed. He’s short, fat and bald, with a tartan loin cloth, and what looks like a spout on the top of his head,’ Bryony said.

  ‘You flatter me,’ came the snide male voice. ‘But it’s a valve.’

  ‘He’s talking? That ugly piece of work has been chasing me around the courtyard,’ Oscar said. ‘What’s he saying?’

  ‘Nothing important,’ Raya said.

  ‘Your cat might disagree. We’re going to barbequ
e him!’ The being guffawed, and made a hideous screech. Raya looked at Bryony who seemed to be able to hear AND see him.

  ‘He’s pressing that valve on top of his head and making that sound with his mouth – like he has a trumpet built in,’ Bryony explained. She stopped when another whooshing sound came through the window, followed by two thuds on the floor.

  ‘Two more have joined us,’ Bryony continued her narration. ‘One’s a very tall, thin woman, like a circus performer on stilts, but without stilts.’

  ‘How do you do?’ came in an ultra-high female voice – like a cartoon character.

  ‘Yes, nice to meet you, too,’ Bryony replied. Raya was speechless. Oscar not being able to hear them was spared their ridiculous chatter. Bryony went on to describe the third one, ‘This last one looks like a male model, unbelievably fit and handsome, but with purple and orange striped skin. Actually, that’s all he’s wearing, so to speak.’

  ‘Well hello there, pretty little lady.’ It must have been the striped one. He’d said it right into Raya’s ear. She shrieked and jumped clear off her bed.

  Bryony poked a finger in the air above the foot of her bed again. ‘Are you jinn?’

  ‘Next stupid question, please. Now, Cat, you ate our offerings. That’s punishable by death.’ That was the first voice, the raspy one. Raya checked with Oscar, ‘Did you hear that?’ Oscar shook his head. This was really weird.

  Bryony stood up, gave the slightest bow. What was she doing?

  ‘I am honoured to meet you. I am from another land, and have only read about jinn in books. I’m most delighted to have this opportunity.’

  ‘Hm, you can see AND hear us? You’re no fun,’ the raspy one said to Bryony. ‘Whatever. We’ll just take your cat and go.’

  Bryony opened the door to the balcony. ‘Why don’t we go outside. Let my human friend here sleep, we’ve had a very long journey, and I’d like to ask you a few questions. I understand jinn are very knowledgeable and wise.’ Raya thought Bryony was either a good actress, or had lost her mind. Bryony, Oscar, and the three jinn left the room for the remainder of the moon-lit night.