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Authors: Juliet Marillier
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hands, her shoulders quivering. I put my arm around her.
‘We canna let that happen,’ Whisper said. ‘You canna let it happen, Neryn.’
‘I won’t,’ I said with more confidence than I felt. ‘Among the three of us, we need to make a plan. But not now. Silva, why don’t you try to sleep for a while? We’ll keep vigil for you.’
But Silva would not. Weary to the bone, her face still wet with tears, she straightened her back and lifted her chin. ‘I must stay awake. That’s what Maeva would expect. It’s what the Lady would expect.’
The next morning, the three of us returned to the place of the cairns. I waited with Silva while she spent some time in private, silent prayer. When she had finished, Whisper escorted her back to the ruined house. We hadn’t made much of a plan, but it was obvious we could not survive the winter here without Silva’s hospitality, and she in her turn would not consider leaving her duties of tending to the animals and maintaining the women’s rituals. Whisper and I would have to trust that the natural magic of this place would keep me safe. We were agreed that Silva should not be left on her own.
When they were gone, I crept into the beehive hut. No sooner had I seated myself on the earthen floor and begun the slow sequence of breathing than a host of tiny presences swarmed down from somewhere in the arched roof to settle on me, their little lights painting the ancient stones with a many-coloured glow.
‘Ye hae a sorrow on ye,’ came the voice, softer today. ‘What is it that’s happened?’
I told her, keeping to the facts, trying for a calm tone. ‘There’s only the one young girl left – Silva – but she’s sworn to keep the ritual going on her own,’ I said at the end.
‘The wee lassie, aye. She’ll be grievin’. ’Tis a sorry place, this Alban o’ yours, sad and sorry.’
‘And yours,’ I felt compelled to say. ‘It may be sad and sorry now, but it’s the same Alban where wise women once observed the high days openly; where they walked among their communities, teaching and healing, and were viewed with respect. My grandmother was one such. A herbalist.’
‘Oh, aye? And what became o’ her?’
‘An enthralment that went awry. She died less than a year later.’
‘Oh, aye.’ I heard compassion in her voice. ‘And ye’d hae been a lassie around this one’s age when it happened?’
‘I was, yes.’
‘’Twillna be easy for ye, if ye must care for this lass and keep her safe, and follow your ain path, both at the same time.’
I had not yet told Silva that as soon as my training was complete, we’d have to move on. ‘I know,’ I said.
‘Aye, weel, ye willna be headin’ off tomorrow. There’s time for ye tae think things through. I see ye ken the five steps o’ breathin’. Wha showed ye that?’
‘The Hag of the Isles.’
‘That auld creature! Is that selkie fellow still by her side? Took up wi’ him when she wasna mair than a lassie, she did. But then, she always did gae her ain way.’
Her words brought a smile to my lips. I pictured the Hag as a young woman, tall and strong, swimming in those turbulent western waters alongside her selkie lover. I had learned, over the spring, that he had hidden depths. He was a gentler soul than the Hag; they complemented each other. ‘Yes, Himself is still there with her. I spent a good part of last spring with the Hag, learning. The day I first met her, she put me and my companion out on a skerry and left us there. First the two of us, then only me. It was a testing introduction to the magic of water.’
‘Were ye no’ expectin’ tae be tested?’ I imagined the Lady raising her brows; the small bright beings made a sound like laughter.
‘I expected the learning to be difficult. But I thought I had proven my physical endurance by then. I discovered, rather too slowly for my peace of mind, that what the Hag needed from me was not a demonstration of strength, but a recognition of
‘We canna let that happen,’ Whisper said. ‘You canna let it happen, Neryn.’
‘I won’t,’ I said with more confidence than I felt. ‘Among the three of us, we need to make a plan. But not now. Silva, why don’t you try to sleep for a while? We’ll keep vigil for you.’
But Silva would not. Weary to the bone, her face still wet with tears, she straightened her back and lifted her chin. ‘I must stay awake. That’s what Maeva would expect. It’s what the Lady would expect.’
The next morning, the three of us returned to the place of the cairns. I waited with Silva while she spent some time in private, silent prayer. When she had finished, Whisper escorted her back to the ruined house. We hadn’t made much of a plan, but it was obvious we could not survive the winter here without Silva’s hospitality, and she in her turn would not consider leaving her duties of tending to the animals and maintaining the women’s rituals. Whisper and I would have to trust that the natural magic of this place would keep me safe. We were agreed that Silva should not be left on her own.
When they were gone, I crept into the beehive hut. No sooner had I seated myself on the earthen floor and begun the slow sequence of breathing than a host of tiny presences swarmed down from somewhere in the arched roof to settle on me, their little lights painting the ancient stones with a many-coloured glow.
‘Ye hae a sorrow on ye,’ came the voice, softer today. ‘What is it that’s happened?’
I told her, keeping to the facts, trying for a calm tone. ‘There’s only the one young girl left – Silva – but she’s sworn to keep the ritual going on her own,’ I said at the end.
‘The wee lassie, aye. She’ll be grievin’. ’Tis a sorry place, this Alban o’ yours, sad and sorry.’
‘And yours,’ I felt compelled to say. ‘It may be sad and sorry now, but it’s the same Alban where wise women once observed the high days openly; where they walked among their communities, teaching and healing, and were viewed with respect. My grandmother was one such. A herbalist.’
‘Oh, aye? And what became o’ her?’
‘An enthralment that went awry. She died less than a year later.’
‘Oh, aye.’ I heard compassion in her voice. ‘And ye’d hae been a lassie around this one’s age when it happened?’
‘I was, yes.’
‘’Twillna be easy for ye, if ye must care for this lass and keep her safe, and follow your ain path, both at the same time.’
I had not yet told Silva that as soon as my training was complete, we’d have to move on. ‘I know,’ I said.
‘Aye, weel, ye willna be headin’ off tomorrow. There’s time for ye tae think things through. I see ye ken the five steps o’ breathin’. Wha showed ye that?’
‘The Hag of the Isles.’
‘That auld creature! Is that selkie fellow still by her side? Took up wi’ him when she wasna mair than a lassie, she did. But then, she always did gae her ain way.’
Her words brought a smile to my lips. I pictured the Hag as a young woman, tall and strong, swimming in those turbulent western waters alongside her selkie lover. I had learned, over the spring, that he had hidden depths. He was a gentler soul than the Hag; they complemented each other. ‘Yes, Himself is still there with her. I spent a good part of last spring with the Hag, learning. The day I first met her, she put me and my companion out on a skerry and left us there. First the two of us, then only me. It was a testing introduction to the magic of water.’
‘Were ye no’ expectin’ tae be tested?’ I imagined the Lady raising her brows; the small bright beings made a sound like laughter.
‘I expected the learning to be difficult. But I thought I had proven my physical endurance by then. I discovered, rather too slowly for my peace of mind, that what the Hag needed from me was not a demonstration of strength, but a recognition of
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