Read Online Child of the Prophecy by Juliet Marillier - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Juliet Marillier
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Autumn advanced into winter, and the lessons went on at a relentless pace.
"Very well, Fainne," Grandmother said one day, quite abruptly, as we sat in the workroom resting. All afternoon she had made me turn a spider into other forms: a jewel-bright lizard; a tiny bird with fluttering wings that blundered, confused, into the stone walls; a mouse that came close to making its escape through a crack until I clicked my fingers to change it into a very small fire-dragon, which puffed out a very small cloud of vapor, flapping its leathery wings in miniature defiance. I was exhausted, as limp in my chair as the spider which now hung, still as if dead, in its web high above me. "Time for a history lesson. Listen well, and don't interrupt if there's no need of it."
"Yes, Grandmother." Obedience was the easiest course to take with her. She was ingenious in her methods of punishment, and she disliked to be challenged. I far preferred Father's methods of teaching which, though strict, were not unkind.
"Answer my questions. Who were the first folk in the land of Erin?"
"The Old Ones." This type of inquisition was easy. Father had imparted the lore over long years, and he and I were fluent in question and answer. "The Fomhoire. People of the deep ocean, the wells and the lake beds. Folk of the sea and of the dark recesses of the earth."
Grandmother gave a peremptory nod. "And who came after?"
"The Fir Bolg. The bag men."
"And after them?"
"Then came the Tuatha De Danann, out of the west, who in time sent the others into exile and spread themselves all across the land of Erin. Long years they ruled, until the coming of the sons of Mil."
"Very well. But what do you know of the origins of our own kind?" Her eyes were sharp.
"Our kind are not in the lore. I know that we are different. We are cursed, and so we are ever outside. We are not of the Tuatha De. Neither are we mortal men and women. We are neither one thing nor the other."
"That much you've got right. We're outside because we were put there. One of us transgressed, long ago, and they never let us forget it. Know that story, do you?"
I shook my head.
"We're their descendants, whether they like it or not. Fair Folk, or whatever they choose to call themselves. Gods and goddesses every one, superior in every way, drifting around as if they owned the place, as they did, of course, after packing the others off back into their nooks and crannies. But someone dabbled in what she shouldn't, and that started it all off."
"Dabbled? In what?"
"I said, don't interrupt." She glared at me, and I felt a sharp, piercing pain in my temple. "Back in those first days we could do it all, had every branch of the craft at our fingertips. Shape-shifting, transformation. Healing. Mastery of wind and rain, wave and tide. We were gods indeed, and no wonder the Old Ones crept back to their caves with their tails between their legs. But there are some byways of the craft that should not be tampered with, not even by a master. Everyone knew that. It's perilous to touch the dark side; best leave it alone, best stay well away. Unfortunately there was one who let curiosity get the better of her. She played with a forbidden spell; called up what should have been left sleeping. From that day on there was an evil let loose that was never going to go away. So she was cast out, and part of her penalty was to be stripped of the ability to use the higher elements of magic: the powers of light, the healing, the flight. All she had left was the dross, sorcerer's tricks: she could meddle, and she could perform transformations, a frog into a man maybe, or a girl into a cockroach. She had the Glamour. Precious little, compared with what she'd lost. She attached herself to a mortal man, since none of the high-minded ones'd have her, not after what she'd done. And you know what that means."
This time an answer seemed to be expected. "That she
Autumn advanced into winter, and the lessons went on at a relentless pace.
"Very well, Fainne," Grandmother said one day, quite abruptly, as we sat in the workroom resting. All afternoon she had made me turn a spider into other forms: a jewel-bright lizard; a tiny bird with fluttering wings that blundered, confused, into the stone walls; a mouse that came close to making its escape through a crack until I clicked my fingers to change it into a very small fire-dragon, which puffed out a very small cloud of vapor, flapping its leathery wings in miniature defiance. I was exhausted, as limp in my chair as the spider which now hung, still as if dead, in its web high above me. "Time for a history lesson. Listen well, and don't interrupt if there's no need of it."
"Yes, Grandmother." Obedience was the easiest course to take with her. She was ingenious in her methods of punishment, and she disliked to be challenged. I far preferred Father's methods of teaching which, though strict, were not unkind.
"Answer my questions. Who were the first folk in the land of Erin?"
"The Old Ones." This type of inquisition was easy. Father had imparted the lore over long years, and he and I were fluent in question and answer. "The Fomhoire. People of the deep ocean, the wells and the lake beds. Folk of the sea and of the dark recesses of the earth."
Grandmother gave a peremptory nod. "And who came after?"
"The Fir Bolg. The bag men."
"And after them?"
"Then came the Tuatha De Danann, out of the west, who in time sent the others into exile and spread themselves all across the land of Erin. Long years they ruled, until the coming of the sons of Mil."
"Very well. But what do you know of the origins of our own kind?" Her eyes were sharp.
"Our kind are not in the lore. I know that we are different. We are cursed, and so we are ever outside. We are not of the Tuatha De. Neither are we mortal men and women. We are neither one thing nor the other."
"That much you've got right. We're outside because we were put there. One of us transgressed, long ago, and they never let us forget it. Know that story, do you?"
I shook my head.
"We're their descendants, whether they like it or not. Fair Folk, or whatever they choose to call themselves. Gods and goddesses every one, superior in every way, drifting around as if they owned the place, as they did, of course, after packing the others off back into their nooks and crannies. But someone dabbled in what she shouldn't, and that started it all off."
"Dabbled? In what?"
"I said, don't interrupt." She glared at me, and I felt a sharp, piercing pain in my temple. "Back in those first days we could do it all, had every branch of the craft at our fingertips. Shape-shifting, transformation. Healing. Mastery of wind and rain, wave and tide. We were gods indeed, and no wonder the Old Ones crept back to their caves with their tails between their legs. But there are some byways of the craft that should not be tampered with, not even by a master. Everyone knew that. It's perilous to touch the dark side; best leave it alone, best stay well away. Unfortunately there was one who let curiosity get the better of her. She played with a forbidden spell; called up what should have been left sleeping. From that day on there was an evil let loose that was never going to go away. So she was cast out, and part of her penalty was to be stripped of the ability to use the higher elements of magic: the powers of light, the healing, the flight. All she had left was the dross, sorcerer's tricks: she could meddle, and she could perform transformations, a frog into a man maybe, or a girl into a cockroach. She had the Glamour. Precious little, compared with what she'd lost. She attached herself to a mortal man, since none of the high-minded ones'd have her, not after what she'd done. And you know what that means."
This time an answer seemed to be expected. "That she