Like Mouse, Bird, Flame and Cricket had come from ordinary families living in small villages; Lisper was the child of an important family whose stronghold lay near the ruined Barrier Mountains. Star had come from the poorest background of all—itinerant peddlers, dealers in trinkets, without a permanent home of any kind beyond the wagons her family traveled in. Her mother and the man whose bed she currently shared, awed by the gray-clad woman accompanied by soldiers who had found them unerringly in their wanderings, had let Star go without a murmur. And after all, it made one less mouth for them to feed. Star told this story so matter-of-factly that Mouse knew that either she wasn't at all hurt or upset by her parents’ attitude or she was very wounded indeed and determined not to show it. Mouse resolved that she would be a very good friend to Star, in any way she could. Her own Mama and Papa—
Mouse blinked in surprise. This was the first time since she had left home that she had even thought about Mama and Papa! She had all but forgotten them, and hadn't even missed them, not once. Would they be grieving? Worrying about what had become of her?
That night, instead of going directly to sleep, Mouse wept softly into the blanket covering her. The sound of snuffles and sniffles nearby told her that she was not alone. She sat up and discovered that most of the other girls were weeping as well.
“I want my Mama,” Cricket said miserably.
“Me, too,” Flame said. Bird and Lisper nodded agreement. Lisper sucked on her thumb as if she would never leave off. Mouse wanted more than anything to reach out, to try to make Mama hear, the way she had used to sometimes back home. But somehow, around Bee, she didn't dare.
“Better be quiet,” Star said. She alone was dry-eyed. “Bee will hear you.”
“I already did,” Bee said. She moved into the middle of the group and sat down, taking Lisper onto her lap. Cricket cuddled up in the crook of her other arm and the rest of the children crept as close as they could get, even the independent Star.
“Please, lady,” Mouse said. “We forgot to tell my Mama and Papa where we were going. They don't even know where I am!”
“And that troubles you, does it?” Bee said. “Well, you don't need to worry. By now they know what's happened.”
Lisper took her thumb out of her mouth long enough to say, “I mith my Mama and Papa.” Back went the thumb; Lisper snuffled mournfully.
“That will pass. You are in safe hands, and you are where you need to be. Remember that. Now, go to sleep, all of you.” Bee shooed them all back to their places and tucked them in. She kissed each one, lingering a little over Lisper.
Like Mouse, the other girls seemed to find more comfort in what Bee actually meant than what she had said. “Thank you, lady,” Mouse said. “We'll be all right now.” Then she fell asleep.
III
It was wonderful, being in Bee's company. She really was like an aunt, a young aunt they could tease and laugh with, and who was as much fun as anybody they had ever known. At the same time she was someone they knew they must obey without question. They sang songs and Bee told them stories. “It makes the miles go faster,” she said. And it did seem they must have a magical wind at their backs, helping them along.
At first Mouse eyed the men warily. She had seen chain mail before, of course. Papa had a chain shirt, though he almost never wore it. And his helmet, though not new, was just as intimidating as the ones these Guardsmen wore. But these men had long swords at their sides, and it was plain that they had plenty of ammunition for their dart guns. Papa had run out of darts a long time ago, and now he kept the gun on the wall by the door, just for looks. The men guarding Bee and the girls didn't talk much except among themselves, and then in low tones. Mouse was surprised to discover that the men took all their orders from Bee. Then she began to wonder all over again. Papa would never do this, take orders from a woman, and yet there was that Guardsman who looked like he might be one of Papa's distant relatives. Somehow, though, she was not tempted to speak to him with any degree of familiarity. Like Newbold, his black and white falcon, rode on his Y-shaped saddle-horn. But this bird was as different from Newbold as the man was different from Papa. This bird screeched and screamed every time she tried to come near, so she left him alone. Still, she knew the man must be one of the wonderful Falconers who were Papa's people before he married Mama, and she wished he would talk to her sometimes.
Each night, before they went to sleep, the little girls had a lesson from Bee. Mostly it was on the nature of magic, but one night it was about how to act when they got to Es City.
“We'll be there very soon. You must be on your best behavior,” Bee told them. “The Guardian rules us all—yes, even though you have never even met her. She is now your mother. Indeed, she is now your only parent, as she is mine. You must not shout or skip or run, but must walk quietly in her presence and speak when you are spoken to.”
“Will she beat us if we're bad?” Cricket said, giggling. “Will she send us to bed without our suppers?”
“Of course not!” Bee tried to be firm, but the corners of her mouth twitched. “Oh, you scamp. You're going to lead them a merry chase at the Place of Wisdom.”
“And what is that, please, Bee?” Mouse asked.
“It is a place leagues and leagues beyond Es Castle. In fact, it is a day's ride from the sea.”
“Hooray!” cried Lisper. “My Mama and Papa and I uthed to live bethide a lake, and they would take me thwimming thometimeth. Ith the thea like a lake, pleath, Bee?”
“Yes, you might say so, only bigger. I remember outings to the seashore now and then while I was at the Place of Wisdom, when we had all been very, very good. Now, speaking of being good, you must all go to sleep now. Another day and we'll see the towers of Es City on the horizon.”
Mouse was so excited she thought she would never be able to sleep again. And the other girls were, too. They huddled together, whispering and giggling, until Bee hushed them and sent them to sleep. She held her mysterious jewel and spoke a. few words Mouse thought strangely familiar though she had never heard any sounds like them before in her life. All at once her eyelids grew so heavy she couldn't keep them up, and the next thing she knew it was morning.
The last few miles to Es City were a sheer torment for the overexcited children. Instead of rushing them through their mid-morning meal, Bee allowed them to play Catch Me.
“Run and shout all you like,” she told them. “I hope they'll tire themselves out,” she added to Rhinfar. “I do believe this is the healthiest, most energetic group of children we've had in years.”
“I wouldn't know, lady,” Rhinfar said. “But they do seem strong, and vigorous.”
“New blood,” Bee said somberly. “We've nearly exhausted ourselves, we Witches. And nearly extinguished our line, during the Turning.”
“Were you there?” the Guardsman asked.
“Yes, I was in the second circle. I had been chosen to be one of those who stood by to give of our strength when it was needed while the strongest worked the spell. The Power came—” Bee broke off, shuddering. “It was terrible. If I hadn't closed my eyes and covered my ears, I might have died with so many of my sisters. Their Jewels shattered, disintegrating into dust and the Witches died—” Again she broke off, shuddering, and clutched at the stone hanging from the chain around her neck. “A few others in the first circle were less fortunate. Their Jewels went black, and they were left alive—if you can call it living, the state they were in. Many have never recovered to this day.”
Mouse, who was hiding nearby, kept very still, listening. She had heard about the Turning, of course. Everyone knew how the mountains had fallen between Estcarp and Karsten, and Papa's home, the Eyrie, had been destroyed. But she hadn't had any idea how it had happened until now. The thought of such power as the Witches had wielded made her dizzy… .
Bee took a deep breath. “But those terrible days are over,” she said. “We have a new Guardian now, a younger one, one with new ideas. She is willing to accept that the worl
d has changed, that different ways aren't always inferior, that the time has come to try new things. Expansion, Rhinfar. Perhaps an entire change of direction. And the children are the key— Mouse! What are you doing here!”
Mouse jumped, full of guilt and ashamed of having been caught eavesdropping. “I was hiding, Bee,” she said. “It was part of the game. I didn't mean to listen, really.”
“Well, no harm, I suppose. You go with Rhinfar and find the others. If we want to get there before nightfall we must start now.”
Obediently, Mouse went with the Guardsman while he broke up the game, much to Star's disappointment. “I was winning!” she said.
“No, you weren't,” Flame retorted, and Lisper agreed.
“You couldn't catch me no matter how fatht you ran,” she said. “You couldn't even thee me if I wanted to hide, and I can run much fathter than either one of you. Tho there.”
“Then we'll let you three run all the way to Es Castle,” Bee said with mock exasperation. “Unless, of course, you'd rather ride with the rest of us.”
That ended all complaints and arguments. Obediently, the little girls rushed to climb up onto their ponies at once and fell into line in the familiar twin column.
Estcarp had become a silvery, gray-green land, far different from what Mouse had been used to, close to the mountains. Back at her old home, the trees were tall and fragrant, with spiky needles instead of leaves, and prickly, sweet-scented cones grew at the tip of each branch. Mouse had loved to gather the cones and always kept the basket by the fireplace full, for they made the fire smell very nice. But the cone trees were far behind. Here the woodland smells were far different—earthier, more like the memory of the tame crops they bordered, and less like the wild sweetness of the mountain forests. Mouse wondered what the people used to perfume their fires.
In this part of Estcarp, where there were no early crops planted as yet, the native rocks shone greyish green in the sun and what vegetation had begun to come in leaf displayed much the same muted hue. The trees were modest in size. And they didn't grow just anywhere, as they did outside Blagden. Here there were tidy, well-defined forests and occasional copses and trees lining either side of streams, the trees’ domain drastically reduced by the farmlands. But many fields lay fallow, un-plowed, and Mouse wondered if the war she had heard about had left Estcarp needing to produce less food than it once had.
Es City seemed at first to be just another grey-green smudge on the horizon. But then as they grew closer, Mouse could see that the city walls and the castle they enclosed were built of the silvery grey-green stone that was so plentiful throughout this part of Estcarp. Now she understood why this highway they traveled was bordered and, in many places, paved with the same kind of stone that made up the great central city-castle. Running as it did all the way from the Great Mountains to the sea—so Bee told them—the road served as a proud reminder to all who traveled on it that they were in Estcarp, the land ruled by Witches. Pride surged through Mouse as well. Soon—very soon—she would be riding through the gate of Es City. Then, with her new-found sisters, she would go into the presence of the Guardian and, if she were found worthy, would begin the training that would some day make her a Witch as well.
She sat up very straight in her saddle. Glancing around, she discovered that the other five children seemed affected in the same way as she. Spontaneously, the little girls struck up one of the trail-songs that had made the miles go by so pleasantly on their journey to this wonderful, magical place. Their voices rose high and sweet and tremulous, and men atop the wall paused to look down at them.
As if that were a signal, the Guardsmen pulled themselves up smartly, and Rhinfar unfurled the silver banner to let it float freely in the freshening breeze. Some of the men added their deep voices to the treble of the children's, and Bee joined with her rich alto.
And so, singing, the Witch children passed through the gate of Es City and into their new life.
Three
I
In spite of her best efforts, Eirran couldn't keep up with Yareth. Old Dorny simply couldn't match Rangin's pace. Grimly, she grew accustomed to the sight of Yareth's back. He maintained a distance well ahead of her on the stone-lined main road leading to Es City. Each evening, though, she would catch up with him as he was beginning to make camp, and the two of them would feed and tend the horses before preparing their own meal. And they slept close together, even though they didn't make love. Eirran remembered their last night together before Yareth had left on his hunting trip. That night they had well and truly loved each other. She warmed at the thought. How close they had been, how they had clung to each other. How long ago? She counted on her fingers. Three weeks, perhaps. And how much had happened in the meantime!
As they journeyed, Yareth found and searched the places where Jenys and her abductors had camped. “It's clear. There were five men,” he said, examining the boot-prints in the dust of the campsites. “One woman and six little girls. Just as Aidine told you. They don't seem to have been in a great hurry.”
Hope made a lump in Eirran's throat. “Do you think we can catch up with them before they reach Es City?”
He shook his head. “No. These tracks are nearly a week old. They've arrived already. But I'll get there in time to stop them before they can do anything to my daughter.”
“Our daughter,” Eirran said automatically. “We'll get there.” But Yareth didn't acknowledge her words. She sighed.
Though Yareth's trail-knowledge told them the ones they were following had taken at least five days on their journey, he and Eirran, traveling with far more urgency, arrived in only three. Eirran gaped openly at the round grey-green stone towers, looking as if they had erupted from the grey-green soil in which they were rooted. As one approached the city, the surface of the road improved, going from packed earth to stone paving. Evening shadows lengthened and the hooves of Rangin and Dorny rang loudly on the paving stones as they rode through the dauntingly strong gate of Es City. The main street led directly to the castle. They pulled up before the immense gatehouse.
It was as if they had been expected. A Guardsman came and took the animals away to be housed, fed and watered. Another, a Falconer by his looks, slipped Newbold's hood on him. “I'll take him to the mews, brother,” he said. “Our birds aren't allowed inside. Witch law.”
“Thank you, brother,” Yareth said. “His name is Newbold. Guard him well.”
“My life on it.”
Another Guard guided them through the intricate castle entrance, into an area outside the vast main building, then left them to find their way as best they could. There didn't appear to be any way inside; no windows, no apparent doors pierced the towering walls. Es Castle turned a stony face to those who would enter without knowing its secret. Nevertheless, Yareth strode forward boldly, but Eirran stopped a grey-clad woman as she went about some unknown errand.
“Please, Lady, will you help us?” she said.
“What is your business?” She spoke to Eirran cordially enough, but cast a suspicious glance in Yareth's direction.
“I've come to reclaim my daughter from your Guardian's grasp,” Yareth said.
The woman eyed Yareth coldly. “Ah. I see,” she said at last. “Come this way.”
At a gesture from her, an entrance appeared where there had been none before. Eirran realized that she had been taken in by an illusion of solid, unbroken walls. Perhaps windows hid behind illusion as well.
They went inside. The grey-clad woman led them through a maze of corridors until they reached a closed door. “Wait here,” she told them. “I'll find out if the Guardian will receive you.”
Yareth made a move forward and Eirran laid her hand on his arm. “No,” she said. “This is the Guardian's place, and she is within her rights. But,” she added in a voice pitched so that their guide could hear, “if she will not see us today, then we shall return tomorrow and the next day and the next, until she does.”
Eirran could tell by the way th
e woman's head went up a notch that her message had been clearly understood. She entered the chamber and it seemed to Eirran that she and Yareth waited an hour or more before the Witch returned.
“The Guardian has consented to see you now,” she said. “It is a great honor she does you, you must understand that.”
Yareth brushed past and went inside the room at once, but Eirran paused in the corridor a moment. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for your help.”
The Witch merely shrugged and walked away, presumably to return to the errand that Eirran's and Yareth's arrival had interrupted. Eirran took a deep breath and hurried to catch up with her husband who was already inside.
II
The room was a small one, perhaps one of the Guardian's private offices. Eirran couldn't imagine such an important person using such a tiny room for official matters. It was brightly lit by globes set in holders on the walls. The leader of the Council of Witches in Estcarp was standing in front of a tall-backed chair. A cluttered table beside her indicated that she had been seated there, working, when the Witch had interrupted her with the news that Yareth and Eirran waited without.
“I was told there were two of you,” the Guardian said. There was a hint of mild reproof in her tone and Eirran regretted having lingered in the hallway. No breach of etiquette, however small, would help them in this interview. Eirran knew instinctively that Yareth would be well advised to speak softly to this formidable lady.
But he was in no mood to be conciliatory. “You have stolen my daughter,” he said bluntly. “I have come to take her back home with me.”
“Your daughter?” The Guardian raised her eyebrows slightly. “You had a daughter?”
“I have a daughter,” Yareth retorted. “And you have stolen her. Give her back.”
“I have no idea who you might be referring to,” the Guardian said.
“She is here somewhere. If I have to take this place apart stone by stone—”
“You?” The Guardian was amused, and allowed herself to show it. “By yourself? Your ardor becomes you, Falconer. I had no idea your kind even cherished your male children, let alone your daughters.”