Chapter sixteen

Neman Forest

 

Gwyneth and Bronwyn had a teleport beacon, so it was easy for John to get there. At every council meeting the congregated witches recharged the beacon and the pentangle, allowing the twins’ homes to function as a communication centre and headquarters. However, John had no desire to be there at all this time, as he dreaded finding out what had happened to Celia. He was as fond of her as of anyone in the council and he worried how he would respond to her melancholia. He didn’t like the sound of it at all.  

Within a minute of stepping away from the beacon Bronwyn was there, coming over to embrace him. She looked lined and tired. John’s heart sank.

‘John!’ she said, ‘it’s lovely to see you…’

‘And you…’ he said, warily

‘We’re so pleased that you could come’

There was no sign of Gwyneth, but that didn’t particularly surprise him. This wasn’t her sort of thing at all.

‘Where is Celia?’ he asked

‘Wandering the woods, probably. She’s even sleeping in one of the summer houses, now that the weather’s picked up – I’ve hardly been able to talk to her at all’

John shook his head.

‘Take me to her then’ he said, ‘let’s get this over with’

 

They found her, eventually, sitting in a small glade about a mile into the forest, just off from the path that acted as a sort of nature trail through the woods. She was dressed in a grey skirt and blouse, and she looked shorter and thinner. She had let her long blonde hair grow even longer, so that it partly covered her face. She looked up at her two friends as they approached and managed a weak smile.

‘John’ she said, getting up, ‘this is a surprise’

John approached her warily. As he hugged her she seemed stiff; as if she was no longer used to physical contact.

‘I’ve come to talk to you’ he said, rather solemnly.

‘Should I stay?’ whispered Bronwyn. Her relief was all too obvious when John waved her away – this was clearly a job for him and him alone.

He dropped on to the floor and looked up into the trees. The verdant spring was beginning to force the old leaves out of the canopy.  The new green blood in the forests made him want to do new things – whether useful or feckless, he really didn’t care – and he wondered if Celia felt any of that.

‘It’s a beautiful time of year, isn’t it?’ he said

 She sat down carefully next to him and stared up at where he was looking. She shrugged.

‘Yes’ she said, softly, ‘it is. It’s the quality of the light…’

John murmured his agreement.  There was a moment of silence while they both appeared to be staring into space and then John pressed on.

‘What’s happened to you, you foolish woman? Bron has told me that you’ve said the most extraordinary things’

‘Like what?’ she asked very quietly, still staring out into the forest.

‘…that you’re washed up, that you want to give up magic and your council seat, and that you want to run away to become a priestess. Mad things like that…’

She finally turned to look at him.

 ‘That’s all true, I’m afraid’

‘But why?’  he asked

There was no hesitation – this was obviously a question that she’d asked (and answered) herself innumerable times.

‘Because I no longer feel that I can undertake my duties competently’

John felt like saying ‘can any of us?’ or ‘define competent’, but for once he kept his thoughts to himself. Instead he assumed his most implacably logical manner.

‘Why is that?’ he asked

‘Because I no long feel capable of doing the things that I used to do – in particular I no longer want to practice magic’

John considered this very briefly.

‘I think that is exceptionally unlikely to be the whole truth. I have never met anyone more enthusiastic about magic; or better at it’

Celia shook her head.

‘Not now, not after Kratos. I’ve reached my limit’

John looked at her very carefully – she looked sad and wan but whole.

‘Did he curse you? Do we need to get Dai to look at you?’

‘No, no – he didn’t. It’s only that the act of fighting him drained me so…’

This seemed incredibly feeble to John.

‘Really, Celia? Drained? Are you sure? You’re stronger than a herd of oxen…’

Normally this might be interpreted as rather rude, but Celia either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

‘Everyone has their boundary line…’ she said, ‘especially me’

John shook his head.

‘What’s actually wrong? I have to say that I don’t believe a word of this’

Celia stared at him sharply.

‘Why ever not?’ she asked

John smiled grimly.

‘Because you’re not a coward, a flake or a failure – your flame burns brighter than that. Something else has happened and you’re not telling anyone what it is…’  

She looked as if he had just slammed her fingers in the cookie jar. She stared into his eyes, imploring him to stop probing.

‘I can’t’ she half-whimpered, ‘I just can’t’

John lay back on the grass and looked up at the sky. He paused for a second before responding.

‘That’s a shame’ he said

Celia leant over to look at him, but by now his eyes were closed.

‘What do you mean?’ she asked.

 ‘Well, I’m not going anywhere until you tell me exactly what the matter is…and we find a way to put it right’

Celia snorted.

‘You can’t do that. You have a thousand one things to do back in Kinspit’

He nodded where he lay.

‘Fair comment’ he said, ‘but none of them are remotely as important as this’

‘That simply isn’t the case’ she said sternly, ‘and it’s a really foolish thing to say’

‘Ah, that’s where your wrong’ he murmured, as if half asleep,  ‘you see, if you’re not around, then the next time someone has to take on a CRS leader the task may well fall to me’

He put his hands over his closed eyes to shield them from the sun.

‘And if that happens’ he continued, dropping his hand, and opening his eyes to look straight up at her, ‘then we’re in really big trouble’

 

Chapter seventeen

Gorodnikov

 

Dom strode in and confronted Viola. He’d thought about the best strategy all of the way home and decided on the direct approach.

‘What is going on?’ he asked, quite calmly.

Viola was alone and she was writing some notes at her desk. She was completely bewildered.

‘What?’ she said, looking up.

‘You’re doing something odd and I want to know what it is’

Viola momentarily looked down at the sheets of paper in front of her, but she rapidly realised that it was nothing to do with them.

‘Umm – I really don’t know what you mean…’

Dom folded his arms and shook his head.

‘The maps and the nonsense story about imperial claims’

A look of phoney hurt flickered across Viola’s face, and then she pulled herself together. She was sure that Dom must have passed on his intelligence to Arbutus and so it seemed best to stonewall.

‘It’s nothing – just dull imperial business. Just a clerical tidying up job’

‘I’m sure there’s more to it than that, major’

‘Well, in any case, you’re not involved in any of it, Mr Shavosky, so…’

Dom smiled. He wasn’t that easily put off.

‘In which case you won’t want any help from me in the future when trying to arrange things in Gorodnikov…’

Viola was in a bind. She had learnt to rely on the young human –he was resourceful and knowledgeable – yet she knew that he was essentially a spy. Dom ploughed on regardless. It wasn’t going to be subtle, but it was all that he had.

‘Let me in on the secret’ he begged, as eager as a puppy, ‘please!’

Viola was astonished. She stood up and stared at him.

‘What?’

‘I’ve heard a lot of things that you and the Ethian have been saying – you’re really not very discreet…’

 ‘So, you are a spy’ growled Viola

Dom thought about this for a second.

‘I was’ he said, ‘but I’m willing to be turned…’

Viola was unconvinced. She squinted at him as if trying to ascertain exactly what sort of base creature he was – a snitch or a turncoat.

‘Have you been telling the Governor everything you’ve heard here?’ she asked

‘No’ said Dom, quite honestly, ‘I was going to but he’s not the slightest bit interested. I went to see him but he was more concerned about what was going on in Amansk’

Viola’s bubble was pricked by this revelation. In one way it was good news but, ‘not the slightest bit interested’’ was rather disappointing. 

‘Really?’ was all she could say.

It was Dom’s turn to look glum.

‘I did try, but he’s got lots of other concerns, I suppose’

There was a moment when they studied each other’s faces. It was time to find some common ground.

‘So’ Viola spoke carefully, ‘why should I tell you? What’s in it for me?’

Dom’s eyes lit up.

‘I’ll help you in any way that I can’

‘Well, if it is true as you say, that…’ said the elf, weighing Dom’s offer, ‘…no-one is interested in what we’re doing, then maybe we can turn that to our advantage’

‘So, will you tell me what’s going on and let me help you?’

‘Possibly – but you will have to give me your word that it will stay between us. You mustn’t tell anyone – not even Lieutenant Potentilla’

Dom looked surprised. 

‘And what about Dr Fielding?’ he asked

Viola laughed.

‘Oh Kath – no – she’s already in on it! Actually, it’s mostly her idea…’

‘But she’s an Ethian citizen…’ objected Dom

‘Needs must’ said Viola, ‘anyway, she’s my best friend; she’s completely trustworthy and very resourceful …’

Dom was almost bursting with expectation.

‘What is it, then? What are the fire snakes? What are they guarding? What are you planning to do?’

Viola lifted up her hands as if to fend off his swarm of questions.

‘So, do you promise…?’ she asked

‘Yes – I promise’ he said

Viola was not yet completely convinced.

‘Swear’ she said, ‘swear on something that you hold dear, Dominic’

 Dom thought for a moment.

‘I swear on my parents’ memory’ he said, vehemently

Viola immediately regretted having asked him to go so far.

‘Your parents are dead?’ she said softly, ‘I’m so sorry…’

Dom waved away the sympathy. Viola was at least partly convinced and so she told him everything except the full details of her Ophia dreams. She was still unsure of whether this was exactly the right thing to do, but without him the expedition would go nowhere: he was the only one of them who knew how to get anything done in the city.

 

***

It took a long time to calm Kath down. She threatened to abandon the whole quest, but Viola knew this was an empty threat. She had a major strop for a few hours and then she dragged Dom off to threaten him with the entire weight of the Ethian army if he revealed a single detail of what he he’d been told. He nodded patiently – now he had what he wanted he was happy to take whatever rubbish was thrown at him. Like his half-niece, Lily (although of course he didn’t know about the relationship) he found the lure of an adventure almost irresistible. They both came from eager, hardy, stock, and he, of course, was the hardiest of them all.

 

He found them a boat with a captain. This took longer than he had originally expected, as it had to be someone who could keep a secret and that meant finding out from his gods-father who might be the right person to ask among his more shady acquaintances. Castanus knew everyone, and everyone owed him a favour.

The captain’s name was Boris Kellavitch and he had a fishing vessel just large enough to carry them to Tamaranti. It would take two to three days and he was charging ten elfrounds per passenger.  This was expensive, but hardly made a hole in the treasure that Pallatian had given to Viola in his lazy attempt to keep her quiet and happy.  They walked down to the harbour in the early evening to look it over. It was small, smelly and cramped. In addition, only Dom had had any proper experience of sailing before.

Given this, it was not surprising that once Kath saw the boat she began to have second thoughts. The two humans and Viola sat in cubicle in a tavern on the harbour side and discussed their plans, while Potentilla kept watch and supplied them with beers.  She was cheerfully relieved not to be involved in the planning.  She didn’t much care where they went as long as it was exciting and she was with her friends.  And Dom was going, so it really had to be worth tagging along.   

‘In that boat?’ whimpered Kath, ‘with someone we hardly know’

She gestured towards Dom as she spoke. She didn’t feel that this was the time to beat about the bush.

‘I trust him’ said Viola, ‘he’s an Imperial servant and I think this clearly counts as Imperial business…’

Dom smiled and shrugged. He really didn’t care how rude people were about him if they didn’t know him: all it could be then was a malicious guess.

‘But,’ continued Kath, ‘how are we going to explain the disappearance of the entire Deputy Governor’s staff?’  

Viola looked up at Dom.

‘I’m taking you on a tour’ he explained, ‘a tour of the province – I’ve sold it as a good way to get you all out of his hair’

Viola looked a little hurt.

‘I thought that he rather enjoyed our weekly chats’ she said

‘Of course he does’ insisted Dom, ‘I meant politically, not socially, He’s worried about you gaining influence’

Viola laughed hollowly, but she let the point pass.

Kath was vaguely annoyed that Viola and Dom seemed to be forming some sort of alliance, but she couldn’t think of anything more to say about Dom other than something like ‘well, I’m not sure that I trust him; he has a funny aura’ and she had no intention of saying that. She returned to her earlier point.

‘We’ll all drown. Have you seen that boat? It’s tiny’

 ‘No, it’s fine’ said Dom, calmly, ‘it’s just a quick sail across the bay: the wind is gentle and the currents are friendly. It’s nothing to worry about at all…’

Kath looked at Viola, completely unconvinced. Viola stared back at her, annoyed.

‘Can I remind you, Dr Fielding, that this was your idea?’

Kath frowned.

‘How was I meant to know it would involve dangerous trips in incredibly small boats?’

‘Well, you read the map, didn’t you…?’

‘That’s not the point…’

‘Well, I plan to go, with or without you’

Dom looked on astonished. This really wasn’t a very good start. He cleared his throat, rather loudly. Viola and Kath looked at him with even more irritation than they had been lavishing on each other.

‘I can tell the captain we don’t need him’ he said, ‘it will only take a few minutes…’

Kath shook her head.

‘I didn’t necessarily say that’ she muttered

‘Well, I assume that we can’t go without you, Dr Fielding – you are the only one with any formal qualifications in this area, after all. Without you we’ll have no idea what we’re looking for’

Kath stopped for a second – she was being buttered up. This wasn’t something that happened to her very commonly, so she was taken aback. Viola jumped in before she had a chance to refute his assertion.

‘You have no idea! She has not only formal but practical qualifications… I’m just astonished that she’s scared of a boat’

Kath was now backed into a corner. I was time to be truthful.

‘It’s not boats’ she said very softly, ‘it’s the ocean’

‘Well, I’d never see the sea before I arrived here, so I can understand that it’s an odd thing’ said Viola, ‘but I think it seems more uncanny than terrifying’

 ‘I’ve been on the sea before and I didn’t like it at all’

‘When were you on the sea?’ asked Viola, forgetting that Eth had sea on three sides.

‘My uncle’s in the navy – he’s captain of a sloop’

‘Really?’ said Viola, ‘that sounds rather exciting to me’

Kath shook her head

‘It’s not – it’s scary’

‘Why do you say that?’ asked Dom

  Kath was standing on the precipice of a terrifying memory.

‘Well… when I was nine… he took me out into the deep ocean to see the Grey Whales, but I hated it… I was petrified’

Dom stared at her, disbelieving.

‘I’ve never seen one but aren’t they meant to be amazingly large, majestic and really gentle…’

‘No – they’re not – they’re swimming too high’

Dom and Viola glanced at each other – it was obvious that neither of them knew what she meant. She continued, but with an ever increasing vibrato in her voice.

‘When they dive it’s as if they’re falling into nothingness. And they made me realise that if I fell out of the boat – it was miles and miles down… it would take hours to get to the bottom… and no-one would ever find me ’

Viola looked up at Kath, shocked. She touched her on the shoulder.

‘Oh dear’ she said, ‘that does sound frightening’ 

Dom sighed. Working with these two was not going to be easy.

‘We never come off the continental shelf’ he explained, ‘and there are no big whales. The worst you might see are some basking sharks or some dolphins’

Viola’s ears pricked up.

‘Dolphins?’ she whispered, knowing that this wasn’t in any way helpful.

‘How big are all those things?’ asked Kath.

‘Pretty small, on average’ said Dom, trying not to lie too blatantly. 

‘And how deep is the water?’    

 ‘Oh – shallow – in nautical terms’

Kath didn’t look convinced but she also knew that she was jeopardising the whole venture.

‘I could stay in the cabin for most of the time, I suppose’

Viola and Dom nodded.

‘Yes, of course’ they both muttered, ‘you’d hardly have to even see the sea…’

Kath gathered up all of her courage.

‘I’ll do it’ she said, ‘as long as you promise that there’ll be no whales…’

 Dom promised, of course – but all the time he had his fingers crossed tightly under the table.

Chapter eighteen

Va[1]

 

It was twilight. The fox padded into her mistress’s kitchen, sniffed the air and curled up next to the stove. She looked up at the two witches who were weaving at the table and wondered vaguely what they were making. Then she closed her eyes and slept, letting her stomach digest the chicken that she had just stolen from a neighbouring farm.  Myfanwy had nodded as she entered the kitchen but then had paid her no more attention.

A more careful observer would have soon seen that it was really only Owen who was moving the loom. Backwards and forwards his hands went, and out of the machine ran a long cloth of green, which shimmered slightly in the growing darkness. Every now and then, however, Myfanwy would lean forward and cut a square of cloth and inspect it.

‘This is very kind of you’ she said, in Rhylic

Owen looked up at her, smiled and nodded.

‘You’re welcome, witch sister’ he murmured, ‘we can’t have your vestments fading now, can we…’

Myfanwy placed the latest of the squares on to the pile that she was amassing in the centre of the table. Each was a slightly different shade of green. She pulled one out of the pile and held it up against her clothing, where the lustre of the new squares contrasted sharply with the drab patchwork that presently made up her cloak.

‘This would take me an age to do, covener Owen….’ she said, ‘…I have no idea how you can weave so quickly. You are quite simply a marvel…’

‘I must be gone at dusk, though’ he said, ‘but by then you will have enough’

‘Yes, undoubtedly I will have’ she agreed

He smiled again, but this time there was something in his face that concerned her, something that she had seen several times during that long day that they had spent together.  He was usually contented, with an aura so balanced that she found him almost perfect company – after all, there were so many among them who were sharp and ragged, so many that she could hardly bear to spend even a few minutes with. But today, she could sense a deep perturbation inside him, and she could not yet clearly see what it was. She was very keen to ask him about it, but she had other things to discuss with him first, which were, if not more important, then perhaps more pressing.

‘I have been asked to do some investigations’ she said, pushing her concerns to one side for a while, ‘and I was hoping that you might be able to help me’

‘In what way can I help you, Mav – what have you been asked to do?’

‘John wants me to find out about some mysterious group; a group that call themselves the Radical Numerologists…’

Owen considered this for a second.

‘I’ve never heard of them’ he said, rather flatly – again Myfanwy registered a ripple in his response, an eddy of discontent.

‘No-one seems to have – it’s all very strange. They are either completely new or have been hiding very effectively’

Owen, who had paused for a second as they spoke, returned to the slow rhythm of the loom.

‘I see’ he said, ‘do you want me to ask around the mender’s guild and see what I can dig up? Anyway, what do they do?’

‘I’m not sure. All I have is some garbled notes from Laurence concerning a rather dangerous lecture that he attended. There was an old eleven mage there who was talking about some number system; I assume some numerological system; which appeared to have some mystical importance’

Owen looked up from his weaving and grinned.

‘Isn’t that your sort of thing, Myf? Mystical numbers and the like?’

She shook her head.

‘I have no enthusiasm for numbers – they are a snare and a delusion. Never believe anything that can be measured exactly…’

‘Except in carpentry…’ he murmured, ‘…or your house may well fall down’

Myfanwy ignored this. She could see that she would be unable to engage her colleague in this conversation and she was disappointed, but it just confirmed her fear about his aura. He was listless and distracted.

‘You need to tell me what is wrong’ she commanded, very loudly.

Owen’s hands slipped from the loom. He looked shocked.

‘What?’

‘You are compromised. Your colours are darkening and muddy’

He looked down at the squares of cloth and then looked up completely bemused.

‘I mean metaphorically! You are far too engaged with the material, Owen. I suppose that it is inevitable given what you do, but it is still ill-advised. There is no truth in the merely visible’

‘As you have said before’ said Owen calmly, waiting for some more satisfactory explanation of her outburst.  Eventually, she supplied it.

‘You are unhappy, that is what I mean’

He nodded, without even thinking, but he said nothing. Myfanwy pressed on.

‘Why then are you unhappy, old friend?’

There was a long moment while Owen struggled to find the right words and put them in a plausible order.

 ‘I am really worried about Celia…’ he finally admitted, ‘I haven’t heard from her in weeks even though I’ve sent many messages’

Myfanwy was taken aback. Unlike the more gossipy members of the council she never interested herself in the state of coven relationships and it had never occurred to her that Owen and Celia were anything except superficial friends.

‘Miss Franklyn?’ she asked, ‘Yes, of course, I have heard that she has been rather damaged by her battle with Kratos and I am sorry to hear that. However, these easterners all have their breaking points, and although I am not against having a few in the coven, I do believe that John has allowed far too many…’

She stopped abruptly. Owen was looking at her with a mixture of astonishment and distaste.

‘That’s not fair, Myf’ he said, ‘she is an extraordinary witch. No-one else could have confronted Kratos and won. I don’t think you realise what it is you’re saying…’ 

The green witch stopped herself. She deeply regretted having started this conversation without having discovered the full facts. She raised her hands palm outwards to him, as if in supplication.

 ‘I’m so sorry – I let my silly petty prejudices run away with me. You are right to stop me – we are all coveners and we must help each other whenever we can’

Owen nodded and his expression softened.

‘I know that you meant no harm’ he said, evenly. Having put things right, now, however, she continued her friendly fire.

 ‘Why are you so concerned?’ she asked

Owen was astonished that she had to ask this. He was beginning to think that she was taking her otherworldliness a little too far.    

‘She my closest friend… Hadn’t you noticed?’

‘No, I had not’ said Myfanwy, ‘but now that I know that things are becoming clearer’

She waited, just long enough to frame her next question in total isolation from the surrounding conversations.

 ‘Do you desire Councillor Franklyn, physically, Owen?’

Owen looked utterly startled.

‘Of course not’ he said, in a very small voice

 Myfanwy wrinkled up her nose and considered this.

‘Well, then why are you concerned about her silence… we often don’t talk for months, do we? and I consider you a very close friend’

Owen looked confused. His narrowed his eyes and went plunging straight back down to her earlier point.

‘Umm, it’s not usual to… umm… desire your dearest friend, is it?’ he asked, softly ‘wouldn’t that be a bit odd…?’

Myfanwy shook her head and sighed.

‘I have often desired my closest friends – it is perfectly natural. We cannot control our feelings when it comes to physical passion’

Owen smiled through his disquiet. Even he had heard the rumours about Myfanwy’s unconventional personal life.  It didn’t worry him, but he didn’t want to hear too much about it.

‘I’m not sure that that really applies to Celia and me, though’

Myfanwy got up from the table and walked to his side.  She needed to work out exactly what was going on.

‘Look at me!’ she commanded.

Owen’s eyes darted upwards, startled.  He really hadn’t wanted to meet her gaze, as he knew its power. She held his eyes for more than a minute – a period that was excruciatingly painful to him, as she seemed to peel layer after layer from his mental defences.  Not painful, in fact, he realised as she read him, more embarrassing.

Eventually she turned away and sat back down. Her look was very grave.

‘This changes everything’ she said, ‘why did you not tell me this before?’

Owen’s hands went back to the loom, for comfort, but he did not begin weaving again.

‘Tell you what?’

‘The truth,’ she murmured, ‘why did you try to hide it from me?’

He shook his head.

‘I have never hidden anything from you, I promise you – we are both coveners and you are a dear friend…’

 A look of realisation came over Myfanwy’s face.

‘I see. It is not from me or anyone else that you have kept this secret, but from yourself. How foolishly closed, how self-defeating, how utterly male!’

 Owen felt on the verge of anger again. He was used to his friend’s strangeness, but now he was being castigated for something that he had apparently done but about which he knew nothing.

‘What, by Jones, are you talking about?’

Myfanwy looked momentarily exasperated and then closed her eyes.

‘You love her; and with an extraordinary intensity’

‘No…’ began Owen, very quietly, ‘that isn’t true…’

Myfanwy laughed. It was not a kind laugh, but one that she reserved for examples of utter foolishness. 

‘Of course it’s true. And now, of course, you worry that your love is unrequited…’

Owen was silent. He feared that his heart might break there and then and that he might just melt away.

‘What should I do?’ he asked, eventually.

She looked at him with her wise woman eyes.

‘Such things are never clear, but if she is no longer communicating with you then that you can do is wait to see… such things cannot be forced… You must learn to be patient.  It is unseemly for a man to push a woman too strongly in these matters...’

Owen had no idea what all this meant; he just knew that he missed Celia a great deal and feared that he would never see her again.    

The light outside had nearly failed and he had to be in Eth City soon. He had agreed to have dinner with Elizabeth and some young Hybitor apprentices. It really wouldn’t do to keep them waiting.

Myfanwy began to light the lamps around the kitchen. The fox stirred. Owen sighed – he really had to go.

 

---

[1] Town in the Western part of Eth (Rhylan) with a large lake and river running from it down to the sea.