Read Online The Whitby Witches 3: The Whitby Child by Robin Jarvis - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Robin Jarvis
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do not know of me! Aye, much—although your mother knew some of it well enough."
Sucking her peg-like teeth, Old Parry waited—she was enjoying confounding Nelda. The Shrimp brood had always been above itself and it galled her that Tarr was now leader of the tribe, but his granddaughter at least was, for the moment, in her power.
"What do you want?" Nelda asked.
A wide grin split the wizened face opposite and a low cackle issued from the crabbed lips.
"Why, child," Old Parry murmured, "to be a mother to ye. No, hear me out. Have you never heard of scryin' the waters?"
Nelda nodded warily. Just what was the foul hag up to? "Yes," she answered, "Hesper spoke of it often. It is something I should have liked to have played with my mother."
"Ah, Hesper!" Parry clucked with disdain. "And did your aunt ever glimpse your fortunes?"
"No," the aufwader girl said sadly, "she was too absorbed in finding the Moonkelp to waste time in such trifles."
Parry chuckled, "I thought no one had scried for ye. By rights 'tis the mother's task to peer for her daughter's fortunes, but I'm willin' to undertake it."
Nelda spluttered in amazement. "You?" she asked. "You wish to do that for me—but why?"
"'Tis as I said. I have watched you since the hour of your birth and have no offspring of mine own. Would you permit?"
The young aufwader had never liked Old Parry and she was sure the ugly crone despised her all the more. There was no reason to trust her but what harm could it do?
She knew that scrying the waters was a simple game that mothers used to play with their children. She had often heard the barren seawives talk of the dark nights when they had been led to a rock pool by their mothers. When they spoke of it they would weep and lament in the knowledge that they would never have any children to gaze the water for, but no-one had ever offered to do it for Nelda—until now.
It was only ever a harmless amusement and the fortunes glimpsed would invariably include husbands and fishing nets that knew no lack. This was why Nelda was suspicious; Old Parry would not have gone to all this trouble merely to indulge in some pretended devotion to herself, yet though she racked her brains she could not see what harm it could do.
"Very well," she agreed, "look into my future. Will I be a bride again?"
Parry tutted at her mockery. "No game do I play," she muttered in all seriousness. "The frolics of gazing nights were founded in ancient tradition. In every tribe there was one who could really part the curtain of time and look beyond tomorrow."
"And you are one of those?" Nelda asked, not believing a word.
The other sniggered and took from around her neck an egg-shaped pebble threaded on to a piece of string. "No," came the unexpected answer, "but this bauble did belong to one and sometimes, if it allows, I can see days yet distant. Now be silent and still."
Twirling the string in her fingers, she held it over the rock pool and slowly lowered the stone into the inky water.
Nelda did not have to ask how Parry had acquired the stone. She was like a magpie and did not scruple to thieve anything she took a fancy to.
"There now," the crone gurgled in a sing-song voice as she swirled the trinket through the pool. "Remember thy mistress—'tis I, Idin. Thou knowest me, my pretty stone—awake and show unto me this night. Tell thine secrets, oh stone so round and smooth. Let out thy knowledge, Idin commands."
The disturbed water remained dark to Nelda's eyes, but Old Parry crouched over the rippling surface and peered keenly into the shallow depths as she released the stone and let it sink to the bottom.
"Ah," she hissed, "it clears. I see a lone figure—a child. Why! 'Tis no other than yourself, Nelda. Yet your face is grim. Oh, is there naught merry to show me? See, a cloud of darkness and despair is closing around you—oh unhappy bride, what evil stalks you? Ever tighter it binds; you are in direst peril and ever your voice is raised in
Sucking her peg-like teeth, Old Parry waited—she was enjoying confounding Nelda. The Shrimp brood had always been above itself and it galled her that Tarr was now leader of the tribe, but his granddaughter at least was, for the moment, in her power.
"What do you want?" Nelda asked.
A wide grin split the wizened face opposite and a low cackle issued from the crabbed lips.
"Why, child," Old Parry murmured, "to be a mother to ye. No, hear me out. Have you never heard of scryin' the waters?"
Nelda nodded warily. Just what was the foul hag up to? "Yes," she answered, "Hesper spoke of it often. It is something I should have liked to have played with my mother."
"Ah, Hesper!" Parry clucked with disdain. "And did your aunt ever glimpse your fortunes?"
"No," the aufwader girl said sadly, "she was too absorbed in finding the Moonkelp to waste time in such trifles."
Parry chuckled, "I thought no one had scried for ye. By rights 'tis the mother's task to peer for her daughter's fortunes, but I'm willin' to undertake it."
Nelda spluttered in amazement. "You?" she asked. "You wish to do that for me—but why?"
"'Tis as I said. I have watched you since the hour of your birth and have no offspring of mine own. Would you permit?"
The young aufwader had never liked Old Parry and she was sure the ugly crone despised her all the more. There was no reason to trust her but what harm could it do?
She knew that scrying the waters was a simple game that mothers used to play with their children. She had often heard the barren seawives talk of the dark nights when they had been led to a rock pool by their mothers. When they spoke of it they would weep and lament in the knowledge that they would never have any children to gaze the water for, but no-one had ever offered to do it for Nelda—until now.
It was only ever a harmless amusement and the fortunes glimpsed would invariably include husbands and fishing nets that knew no lack. This was why Nelda was suspicious; Old Parry would not have gone to all this trouble merely to indulge in some pretended devotion to herself, yet though she racked her brains she could not see what harm it could do.
"Very well," she agreed, "look into my future. Will I be a bride again?"
Parry tutted at her mockery. "No game do I play," she muttered in all seriousness. "The frolics of gazing nights were founded in ancient tradition. In every tribe there was one who could really part the curtain of time and look beyond tomorrow."
"And you are one of those?" Nelda asked, not believing a word.
The other sniggered and took from around her neck an egg-shaped pebble threaded on to a piece of string. "No," came the unexpected answer, "but this bauble did belong to one and sometimes, if it allows, I can see days yet distant. Now be silent and still."
Twirling the string in her fingers, she held it over the rock pool and slowly lowered the stone into the inky water.
Nelda did not have to ask how Parry had acquired the stone. She was like a magpie and did not scruple to thieve anything she took a fancy to.
"There now," the crone gurgled in a sing-song voice as she swirled the trinket through the pool. "Remember thy mistress—'tis I, Idin. Thou knowest me, my pretty stone—awake and show unto me this night. Tell thine secrets, oh stone so round and smooth. Let out thy knowledge, Idin commands."
The disturbed water remained dark to Nelda's eyes, but Old Parry crouched over the rippling surface and peered keenly into the shallow depths as she released the stone and let it sink to the bottom.
"Ah," she hissed, "it clears. I see a lone figure—a child. Why! 'Tis no other than yourself, Nelda. Yet your face is grim. Oh, is there naught merry to show me? See, a cloud of darkness and despair is closing around you—oh unhappy bride, what evil stalks you? Ever tighter it binds; you are in direst peril and ever your voice is raised in
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