vowed to keep it to herself, at least for the time being. Because if the White witch suspected that she had seen what had taken place, Beth had a strong conviction that it would put her in very real danger.
16
It's all about power here. And control. The Level Five witches lord it over the rest and love every second of it. The Level Ones desperately want to be taken seriously and are constantly trying to prove themselves. It's just like school really. No one seems to want to talk to me very much. Which is also like school. Okay, I know I'm an outsider and that's obviously part of the problem. It's not like I really care or anything. It's just so lonely. I can't see Beth. Zack hasn't made any attempt to talk to me and Luke avoids me like I have the plague. I'm even at the point now of trying to make conversation with these boys who serve me in the house. That's how desperate I am. Tragic I know, but this is starting to get to me. But chatting to John or Jacob is a complete waste of time, what with their yes Ma'am and no Ma'am. I really wish they would get it into their heads that I'm not anyone's Ma'am!
Margaret sat behind a substantial mahogany desk and regarded the girl impassively. "It appears you do have an impressive aptitude for Words of Power. That is Good." She paused, scrutinising Ellie, something about the look in her eyes calculating. "Although Helen tells me you are one who hopes to run before you have mastered walking."
Ellie considered arguing the point, but knew there was little value in it. "I want to learn," she offered simply.
The witch gave a brief smile. "A commendable aspiration. But there are limits to ambition." She glanced away then, her expression somewhat distant. "Not all are blessed with such talent. Some never progress. Some have to be satisfied with a place amongst the lower ranks. As was the case with my own daughter, Diana. You remember her, don't you?"
Now Ellie was uneasy and she was wary of looking the woman directly in the eye. "Yes...I'm sorry."
Margaret just nodded. "Be careful not to aim so high that when you inevitably fall you come to serious harm."
Now the girl felt puzzled and was at a complete loss. Margaret was obviously warning her, that much she recognised. "Have I done something wrong?"
The woman's answer was in a surprisingly kind tone. "Not at all, my dear. I am merely trying to advise you that there is no need to rush. Knowledge is best retained by slow absorption. One day, perhaps, you may even sit where I am now. So it is crucial that you develop your knowledge carefully."
Now Ellie's head was reeling. Was this witch seriously suggesting that she could become the Head of the Black Coven. She just sat there staring dumbly for several long moments before any words came out her mouth. "I'll try to keep that in mind," was the best she could come up with.
"I'm certain that you will."
Ellie wondered if she might risk a question while the elder witch was in such an apparently benevolent mood. "You told me about Rebecca," she began and Margaret's expression shifted subtly at the mention of the name. "I was wondering if I could learn more about her, you know, as she was the Head of our Coven?"
"She was the first Mother," Margaret voiced softly, her eyes becoming momentarily distant. "The Queen of all witches."
The girl pressed ahead, hoping to take advantage of the moment. "Are there any books about her I could read?"
The witch started, as if coming out of a reverie. "No," she said sharply. "There are none. And do not listen to any rumours or hearsay from other Covens. There is much envy, much bitterness from those who do not share our legacy. We of the Black Coven are the only rightful heirs to Rebecca's sovereignty."
They held each other's gaze and Ellie knew without question then that the old woman was lying. There was more here than she was saying. Much more. And she also understood that the power games these people were playing were going to affect her in ways that she could not anticipate. It was true, she had found herself a part of the Black Coven, but she had no real allegiance to them. No more than to the Reds or Whites or the others. But as far as the witches were concerned, you were either with them or against them. And that seemed to apply to the different Covens as well.
Luke had been dreaming again. Another nightmare in which he married a girl with a black ribbon in her hair. She had been Ellie, then she had been Beth and finally she had transformed into a faceless creature who screamed at him relentlessly. He had awoken once more sweating and breathing hard.
Wiping his hand across his brow, he turned over on his side and tried to get his thoughts together. His hands were sore with blisters and his muscles ached. But this physical discomfort was not what was bothering him. Luke just could not stand the thought of a life trapped in this place. It was like a prison without bars. And the witches controlled his every move.
Allana and Leonie were not so bad, but they were still part of it. Zack had become glum and non-communicative and he could barely look Ellie in the eye. Not because of their sham marriage, more because he felt she had become one of them. She dressed like them, spent most of her time with them. He had come to believe that his friend had been seduced by their promises of power.
He knew that his last attempt to break out of this town had met with tragic disaster and he wasn't about to repeat that again. But he really could not continue with this daily routine of zombie-like labour. There had to be another way out. There just had to be.
He would find it and he would take Beth with him. He hoped Zack would come too. But as for Ellie, he wasn't sure it would be safe to tell her, even if he worked out how to escape. Not only might she not want to leave, she might feel compelled to tell the other witches. Luke couldn't take that risk. He just couldn't trust Ellie anymore.
There were two schools. One for the boys, the other for the girls.
Beth had been told to help clear up after each class finished. The White Coven were obviously more than happy to loan her out for other duties. Maybe they felt she would be less of a liability away from their precious Coven building.
But this did give her an opportunity to listen in at least for the final few minutes of each session. And what she heard disturbed her greatly.
A Blue witch teaching a group of boys ranging from around five to ten years old was summarising her lesson.
"So remember," she intoned, "The Daughters must be protected at all costs. They are the heartbeat of our town. They will become Mothers and allow all of you to survive and flourish. Without the Mothers there would be no Witch Town, no future for any of you."
One very small boy raised his hand. "Why can't we learn how to use the Words, mistress?"
Instead of anger, as Beth might have expected, the woman just smiled benignly. "Because, Martin, boys were never meant for such things. All have their place. And their value. Sons and Husbands were intended to work and provide offspring. Daughters become Mothers and govern and direct. This is the way it has always been and will always continue to be. It is the way it should be, for the benefit of all."
The child, who Beth assessed to be one of the very youngest in the class, scratched his ear absently. "But why, mistress?"
Now the witch's genial disposition faltered. "Never question the order of things, Martin." Her words were hard-edged and her eyes bore into him. "Never be the one to bring discord. If you do so, severe penalties will be your reward. Please, all of you," and she let her gaze pass over the other boys, "learn this lesson very well. There will never be a place for agitators here. Be who you were born to be. A Son and a Husband. To serve Witch Town and so serve the Mothers."
None of the boys had any more questions after that.
Of course, Beth's experiences in the girl's school was significantly different.
Here, a witch in a white sash stood before a classroom of Daughters who hung on her every word.
"Of course, after The Testing, you will choose your House and that is a momentous decision. But regardless of this choice, your true duty and allegiance is to our community."
A girl in her early teens raised her hand, her cheeks slightly flushed an
d the woman nodded her permission to speak. "Mistress, can I ask about The Dance?"
There were a few low noises among the assembled girls and furtive glances were passed between them. "What is it that you want to know?" their teacher asked indulgently.
"Can we choose anyone? Anyone at all?"
The White Coven witch gave a flicker of a smile. "Within the obvious boundaries," she pronounced. "The Son must be of age and fit for the role."
The girl's bright eyes waned a little and there was a pleading sound in her voice. "But what if he is not quite of age. Only a few months. Could there not be a delay?"
The woman regarded her with infinite tolerance. "The Dance is held the day after The Testing. It has always been so. A new Mother can choose from all eligible Sons." She put particular emphasis on the word eligible. With a crest-fallen expression, the girl lowered her eyes. "Now go and think on what you have heard today. You are the future. Take that responsibility to heart and along with it the great honour it bestows upon you."
As Beth watched them leave, she caught the gaze of the girl who had asked the question about The Dance and saw there were tears welling in her eyes. The Daughter quickly looked away, but Beth understood that the laws of Witch Town left their mark on everyone, male or female. It was all so extreme, so stupidly rigid. But no-one seemed able to