Child of the Prophecy

I hesitated to ask her what she meant. She was quick to ridicule and to punish when she thought me slow or stupid.

It was too late, Grandmother said, for me to learn to play the harp or flute. I refused to sing, even when she punished me by taking away my voice. I did well enough without it, being used to long days of silence, and in time she abandoned her efforts to extract any form of music from me. She discovered very quickly that my skills in reading and writing far surpassed her own. My sewing was another matter; she pronounced it rudimentary in the extreme. Materials were found in a flash, fine silks, gossamer fabrics, plain linen to practise on first. By lantern light I stabbed my fingers and squinted my eyes and cursed her silently. I learned to sew. She watched me a little quizzically, and once she said, ‘This brings back some memories. Oh, yes.’

There were other lessons she taught me, lessons I would blush to relate. It was necessary, my grandmother said, for I was a girl, and to get anywhere in the world I must be able to attract a man and to hold him. It was not just a case of learning a certain way of walking, and a particular manner of glancing, or even of knowing the right things to say and when to remain silent. Nor was it simply a matter of using the Glamour to make oneself more beautiful or more enticing, though that certainly helped. Grandmother’s teaching was a great deal more specific. It made me cringe to hear her sometimes. It made me hot with embarrassment to be required to demonstrate before her what I had learned. The thought of actually doing any of it made me recoil in horror. She thought me very foolish, and said so. She reminded me that I was in my fifteenth year and of marriageable age, and that I had better make the best of what little I had in the way of natural charms, and learn how to use the craft to enhance them as required, or I’d have no hope of making anything of myself. It was plain to me, as I struggled with these lessons, why my father had summoned her to guide me. If it was true that I needed to acquire these skills, to know these intimate secrets, then it was equally clear he could not have taught me them himself. There are some things a girl cannot discuss with her father, no matter how close to him she may be. But I lay awake at night, wondering at his decision, for Grandmother was a cruel teacher, and her presence in the Honeycomb cast a cold shadow on my days and filled my nights with evil dreams. Why had he gone away, so far I did not even know where he was? Was that in itself some kind of test? He had never left me before, not even for a single night. I was heartsick and lonely, and I was worried about him. He was my world, my family, my only constant. I needed him; he surely needed me, for there was no other on whom he bestowed that rare smile which lit up his sombre features and showed me the man for whom my mother had left the world behind. Was he afraid of Grandmother? Was that why he had left me to her mercies? My dreams showed him gaunt and white, coughing painfully somewhere in a dark cave all by himself. I wished he would come home.

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 vapour, 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 Fomhóire. 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 Túatha Dé 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 Túatha Dé. 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 herself would become mortal?’

‘Not exactly. Our kind live long, Fainne; far beyond the human span. But it did mean she in her turn would die. She would survive to see her family perish of old age before she herself moved on. Her descendants bore the blood of the cursed one, through the ages. Every one of us has her eyes. Your eyes, girl. Every one has the craft, but narrowly, you understand. Some things will always be beyond us. That rankles. That hurts. It should be ours. The punishment was unjust; too severe.’

I opened my mouth, thought better of what I was about to say, and shut it again.

‘Thinking of your father, are you?’ she said, unsmiling. ‘Thinking he seems to manifest a somewhat wider range of talents than those I described? You’re right, of course. I chose his father well: no less than Colum, Lord of Sevenwaters. They’re druid folk, that family. Look how they live, shut away in their precious forest, surrounded by those Others. They’ve got the blood of the Old Ones, mixed with the human strain. Ciarán’s different. Special. He should have ruled there after Colum. Isn’t he the seventh son of a seventh son? But I was foiled. Foiled by that wretched girl and her cursed brothers. They’re the ones you need to watch out for. The ones with the Fomhóire streak in them.’

I frowned in concentration. ‘Why would that be dangerous, Grandmother? The Fomhóire were not users of high magic.’

‘Ah. There’s high magic, and there’s sorcerer’s magic, and there’s another kind. You might call it deep magic. That’s what the folk from Sevenwaters have, and we don’t, child. Not all of them, mind. Most of them are simple fools like your mother, weak-willed and weak-minded. How my son ever fell for that empty little featherhead, I cannot understand. Niamh ruined his life; she weakened him terribly. But now there’s you, Fainne. You’re my hope.’

I had learned that snapping back was pointless, though her dismissal of my mother wounded me. ‘Deep magic?’ I queried. ‘What is that?’

‘The magic of the earth and the ocean. That’s where those folk came from, long ago. That’s why they cling to the Islands. They are no sorcerers. They don’t work spells. But some of them have the ability to speak to one another in the mind, without words. You don’t know how hard I tried to develop that. Wore myself out. Either you have it or you don’t. One or two of them can read the future. Powerful tools, both of them. And some of them have healing skills far beyond a physician’s.’

‘Is that all?’

‘All, she says!’ Her laugh mocked me. ‘Isn’t that enough? Those gifts shut me out of achieving my goal for nigh on two generations, girl. They took my son from me and turned him soft. But now it’s different. I have you, Fainne, and I have a new goal, a far grander one. You’ve got a little bit of everything in you, thanks to your mother. That was the one good thing she did for you, pathetic wretch that she was. I’ve never understood it. If Ciarán had to throw himself away on one of the Sevenwaters brats, why not choose the other sister? A child of that liaison would have had rare skills indeed. Never mind, Fainne. You bear the blood of four races. That has to count for something.’

This time I found it impossible not to challenge her. ‘I don’t like you to speak of my mother that way,’ I said, glaring.

‘No? I speak only the truth, child. Besides, what would you care? You scarcely remember her, surely. But I suppose all your attitudes come from your father. He’ll hear no ill spoken of his beloved Niamh. To him she was a princess, a creature of perfection who couldn’t set a foot wrong. He let losing her eat him up. Now, Fainne.’ Her tone had changed abruptly. ‘You’ve done quite well so far, child; we should be ready in time if you keep your mind on learning. Tomorrow I’ll outline what is expected of you at Sevenwaters. All this, you understand, the airs and graces, the easy conversation, the skills of the bedchamber, all this is only a tool, part of the means to an end. Tomorrow I’ll begin to explain what that end is. You’ve quite a task ahead of you, granddaughter. Quite a task. Now, off to bed with you, you’ll need all the rest you can get.’

That night, alone in my chamber with a candle for company and the ocean roaring outside, I opened the wooden chest and brought out Riona. She seemed a little crumpled from being squashed under blankets, and I thought I detected a trace of a frown on her neatly stitched features. I untangled her yellow hair and refastened the ties at the back of her gown. Tonight, suddenly I did not feel so grown up any more, and as I blew out the candle and lay down on my bed I kept Riona by me, something I had not done for a long time.

‘Is it true?’ I whispered into the darkness. ‘Is that all my mother was, a stupid girl who blighted my father’s life? Is that why he doesn’t want to talk about her? But he said he loved her. If he would talk about her, then maybe I would remember her. Maybe I would remember something. Some little thing.’

Riona did not reply. Her presence by me was comforting, nonetheless. My fingers touched the strange woven necklace she wore, stroked the cool smooth surface of the white stone threaded on it.

‘Perhaps it’s best,’ I said, to her or to myself. ‘Perhaps it’s best that I don’t know. She was one of them, the human kind, the family of Sevenwaters. I am of the other kind; I am my father’s daughter. Best if I never know.’ But my hand brushed the soft silk of Riona’s skirt, and as I fell asleep I was seeing my mother’s fingers, the swift flash of the needle as she sewed the little gown with tiny, even stitches. A gift for her daughter, to remember her by; a small friend to comfort me in the darkness when she was gone.

The next morning Grandmother set things out for me.

‘Now, Fainne,’ she said, watching me very closely as I stood before her in my plain gown and serviceable shoes, my hands clasped behind my back. ‘Why do you think your father wants you to go to Sevenwaters? Is not that the one place he longs to obliterate from his memory, yet cannot? Why would he send you there, his only daughter, into the heart of his enemy’s territory?’

‘I am the granddaughter of a chieftain of Ulster,’ I told her. ‘Father said the folk of Sevenwaters have a debt to repay. He thinks I must learn to move in that circle, since there is no real future for me here in Kerry.’ A shiver went through me. It occurred to me for the first time that I might never return to the Honeycomb. The thought terrified me. ‘I trust my father,’ I went on as steadily as I could. ‘If he wishes me to travel to Ulster, then that must be the right thing.’

Grandmother grimaced, awakening a network of deep wrinkles in her ancient skin. ‘Your confidence in Ciarán’s judgement is touching, my dear, if ill-founded. His decision is sound enough, it’s his reasons that leave something to be desired. I put that down to his druid training. That wretch, Conor, has a lot to answer for. He and those brothers of his robbed my son of his birthright, and muddled his head with foolish ideas, so he doesn’t know what’s what any more. They should never have survived what I did to them. But that’s beside the point. Your father only told you half the truth, Fainne. Ciarán’s sick. Very sick. He’s sending you away because he sees a day, quite soon, when he’ll no longer be here to provide for you.’

I felt the blood drain from my face. ‘What?’ I whispered foolishly.

‘Don’t believe me? You should. I’m in the very best position to know this. Ciarán won’t leave his precious little apprentice here with the fisherfolk, to become another wife with a gaggle of squalling brats at heel. He can’t leave you with me; I come and go as I please. So he’s left with only one option. Your uncle, Lord Sean of Sevenwaters; Conor, the arch druid; the elusive Liadan; those are the only family you’ve got. Your father sees no alternative.’

‘You mean – you mean this cough, this pallor, you mean he is – dying?’ I forced the word out. ‘But – but how can this be? Our kind are not like ordinary men and women, we live long – how can he be so sick? He said he was well. He said there was nothing wrong –’

‘Of course he said that. But there are some maladies beyond mortal remedy, Fainne; some sicknesses that can strike even the most powerful mage. He didn’t tell you the truth because he knew you wouldn’t agree to go, if you knew.’

‘He was right,’ I said, gritting my teeth. ‘I won’t go. I cannot leave him. How could he not tell me?’ The two of us had been so close, had shared such long times of perfect understanding, of wordless cooperation. Hurt lodged deep within me like a cold stone.

Grandmother was calm. ‘Let me explain something to you,’ she said. ‘It’s not the human folk of Sevenwaters that matter, child. It’s the power behind them: those Otherworld creatures with their fancy manners, and their grip on the rest of us. You will go to Sevenwaters, if not for your father, then for me. I’ve a task for you to undertake, a mission for you to complete. This is big, Fainne. Far bigger than you imagine.’

‘But Father said –’

‘Forget that. I’m his mother. I know what I’m talking about. There’s one reason for you to go to Sevenwaters, and one reason alone. My reason. Why do you think I came here, Fainne? I’ve been watching you, these long years; waiting until you were ready for this. You will complete what I started. You will achieve the success long denied our kind. You’ll show the Fair Folk that the outcast can be strong, strong enough to deny them their heart’s desire. You will thwart their long scheme. They will fall together, the folk of Sevenwaters and their Otherworld shadows. That’s your task.’

I gaped at her. ‘But – but, Grandmother, the Túatha Dé Danann? Who could challenge such power? I would be crushed.’

She grinned sourly. ‘I did it, and I’m still here. A little battered, but I have my will. And I nearly succeeded. They’re much weakened since the Islands were lost to the Britons. They had a plan for that girl, Sorcha, and her muddy-boots of a lover. They have a plan for Sevenwaters. I nearly ruined the first. But the girl was too strong for me. I forgot the Fomhóire streak. Never do that, Fainne. Watch out for it. Now you’ll thwart the second plan. The Fair Folk want the Islands back. They want it all played out in accordance with the prophecy. Down to the last word. And it’s all set to happen when another year has run its course. So I’ve heard.’

‘Prophecy?’ My head was spinning, quite unable to come to terms with the horror, the grandeur and the folly implicit in her words.

‘Didn’t Ciarán tell you anything? The Islands were taken by the Britons generations back. Ever since then, Sevenwaters has warred with Northwoods. Until the Islands come back to the Irish, both Fair Folk and human folk remain in disarray. They need them. The high and mighty ones want the Islands guarded. Watched over. That’s the only way they can protect themselves from what’s to come. The prophecy said it would take a child who was neither of Britain nor of Erin, but at the same time both. And there’s some nonsense about the mark of the raven. Well, they’ve got him at last, the leader long hoped for, grandson of that wretched Sorcha. He’s grown up, and ready to do battle with Northwoods, and he’s got a formidable force lined up behind him. It won’t be long now. Not next summer but the one after, that’s what’s being said. Your task is to stop them. Simple, really. You must make sure they don’t fight, or if they do, make sure they lose. Just think of that. We, the outcast ones, at last gaining the upper hand over the Fair Folk. I’d like to see the expressions on their faces then.’

I was so astonished I could barely speak. ‘But how could I achieve such a thing? And why has Father never spoken of this? It would be impossible, for one girl to stop an army. I would not attempt such a task. It’s ridiculous.’

‘Who are you calling ridiculous?’ The old woman fixed me with her berry-dark eyes.

I felt my backbone turn to jelly, but I tried to hold firm. ‘I would not attempt such a thing without Father’s approval,’ I said. ‘It is impossible to believe he would support such an idea.’

Grandmother’s gaze sharpened. Her expression alarmed me. I felt a prickle of fear go up and down my neck.

‘Ah,’ she said, in a very soft voice that clutched at me like a chill hand. ‘You’ll go, Fainne. And you’ll do exactly as I bid you do, from now on. I will not see my plans thwarted a second time.’

‘I won’t,’ I said, trembling. ‘I won’t leave my father. I don’t care how strong your magic is. You can’t make me do it.’

Grandmother laughed. This time it was not the tinkling bell-like laugh, but a harsh chuckle of triumphant amusement. ‘Oh, Fainne. You’re so young. Wait until you begin to feel the power within yourself, wait until men commit murder for you, and betray their strongest loyalties, and turn against what is dearest to their spirits. There’s no pleasure like that. Wait until you recognise what you have within you. For you may be Ciarán’s daughter, and carry the influence of his druid ways and his excess of conscience, but you are my granddaughter. Never forget that. You will always bear a little part of me somewhere deep within you. There’s no denying it.’

‘You cannot make me do bad things. You cannot force me to act against my father’s will. I must at least ask him.’

‘You’ll find I can do just that, girl. Exactly that. From this moment on, you will perform whatever tasks I set you. You will pursue my quest to the bitter end, and achieve the triumph that was denied me. You think, perhaps, that if you disobey me, you will be made to suffer. A slight headache here; a bout of purging there. Warts maybe, or a nasty little boil in an awkward spot. I’m not so simple, Fainne. Act against my orders, and it is not you who will be punished. It is your father.’

My heart thumped in horror. ‘You can’t!’ I whispered. ‘You wouldn’t! Your own son? I don’t believe you.’ But that was not true; I had seen the look in her eyes.

She grinned, revealing her little pointed teeth, a predator’s teeth. ‘My own son, yes, and what a disappointment he turned out to be. As for my will, you’ve already had a demonstration of that. Your father’s malady is not some ague he picked up, or the result of nerves and exhaustion. It’s entirely of my doing. I have been planning for some years, and watching the two of you. He senses it, maybe; but I caught him unawares, and now he cannot shake me off. So he sends you away to what he deems a place of safety. Straight off to Conor, his arch enemy. Ironic, isn’t it?’

‘You’re lying!’ I retorted, torn between horror and fury. ‘Father’s too quick with counter-spells, he’d never let it happen. There’s no sorcerer in the world stronger than he is.’ My voice spoke defiance while my heart shrank with dread; she had us trapped, the two of us, trapped by the love we bore each other. It was she who was strongest; she had been all along.

‘Weren’t you listening?’ she asked me. ‘Ciarán could have been what you say. He could have been the most powerful of all. But he threw it away. He let hope destroy him. He may still practise the craft, but he hasn’t the will now. He was easy prey for me. You’ll need to be extremely careful. I’ll give you some instructions before you leave. The slightest deviation from my orders, and your father goes a little further downhill. You’ve seen how he is. It wouldn’t take many mistakes on your part to make him very sick indeed; almost beyond saving. On the other hand, do well, and he may just get better. See what power I’m giving you.’

‘You won’t know.’ My voice was shaking. I’ll be at Sevenwaters, and you said yourself you cannot read minds. I could disobey and you would be none the wiser.’

Her brows rose disdainfully. ‘You surprise me, Fainne. Have you not mastered the use of scrying bowls, the art of mirrors? I will know.’

I wrapped my arms around myself, for there was a chill in me that would remain, now, on the brightest of summer days. My father sick, suffering, dying; how could I bear it? This was cruel indeed, cruel and clever. ‘I – I suppose I have no choice,’ I muttered.

Grandmother nodded. ‘Very wise. It won’t be long before you’re enjoying it, believe me. There’s an inordinate amount of pleasure that can be had in watching a great work of destruction unfold. You’ll have a measure of control. After all, you do need to be adaptable. I’ll give you some ideas. The rest you can work out for yourself. It’s amazing what power a woman can enjoy, if she learns how to make herself irresistible. I’ll show you how to identify which man in a crowd of fifty is the one to target; the one with power and influence. I did that once, and I nearly had everything I wanted. I came so close. Then that girl ruined everything. I’ll be as glad as Ciarán will be to see her family fail, finally and utterly. To see them disintegrate and destroy themselves.’

She fumbled in a concealed pocket.

‘Now. You’ll need every bit of help you can get. This will be useful. It’s very old. A little amulet. Bit of nonsense, really. It’ll protect you from the wrong sorts of influence.’ She slipped a cord over my neck. The token threaded on it seemed a harmless trinket; a little triangle of finely wrought bronze whose patterns were so small I could hardly discern the shapes. Yet the moment it settled there against my heart, I seemed to see everything more clearly; my anxiety faded, and I began to understand that perhaps I could do what my grandmother wanted after all. The craft was strong in me, I knew that. Maybe all I needed to do was follow her orders and all would be well. I closed my fingers around the amulet; it had a sweet warmth that seemed to flow into me, comforting, reassuring.

‘Now, Fainne,’ Grandmother said almost kindly, ‘you must keep this little token hidden under your dress. Wear it always. Never take it off, understand? It will protect you from those who seek to thwart this plan. Ciarán would say the powers of the mind are enough. Comes of the druid discipline. But what do they know? I have lived amongst these folk, and I can tell you, you’ll need every bit of assistance you can get.’

What she said sounded entirely practical. ‘Yes, Grandmother,’ I said, fingering the bronze amulet.

‘It will strengthen your resolve,’ Grandmother said. ‘Keep you from running away as soon as things get too hard.’

‘Yes, Grandmother.’

‘Now tell me. Is there anyone you’ve taken a dislike to, in your sheltered little corner here? Got any grudges?’

I had to think about this quite hard. My circle was somewhat limited, especially of late. But one image did come into my mind: that girl with her sun-browned skin and white-toothed smile, wrapping her shawl around Darragh’s shoulders.

‘There’s a girl,’ I said cautiously, thinking I had a fair idea of what was coming. ‘A fishergirl, down at the cove. I’ve no great fondness for her.’

‘Very well.’ Grandmother was looking straight into my eyes, very intently. ‘You know how to turn a frog into a bird, and a beetle into a crab. What would you do with this girl?’

‘I –’

‘Scruples, Fainne?’ Her tone sharpened.

‘No, Grandmother.’ I had no doubt she had told me the truth, and I must do as she asked. If I failed, my father would pay. Still, a transformation need not be for ever. It need not be for long at all. I could obey her, and still do this my own way.

‘Good. Just as well the weather’s better, isn’t it? You can walk down this afternoon and stretch your legs. Take that dour excuse for a raven on an outing, it still seems to be hanging about. You can do it then. You’ll need to catch her alone.’

‘Yes, Grandmother.’

‘Focus, now. Remember all you’re doing is making a slight adjustment. Quite harmless, in the scheme of things.’

I timed it so the boats were still out and the women indoors. If I were seen at all, two and two would most certainly be put together. I lacked the skill to command invisibility, for, as my grandmother had told me, we had been stripped of the higher powers. Still, I was able to slip from rocky outcrop to wind-whipped bushes to stone wall without drawing attention to myself, crooked foot or no, and it appeared that Fiacha knew quite well what I was doing, for he behaved exactly like any other raven that just happened to be in the settlement that day. Most of the time he sat in a tree watching me.

The girl was outside her cottage, washing clothes in a tub. Her glossy brown hair was dragged back off her face, and she seemed more ordinary than I had remembered. Two very small children played on the grass nearby. I watched for a little, unseen where I stood in the shade of an outhouse. But I did not watch for long; I did not allow too much time for thought. The girl looked up and said something to the children, and one of them shrieked with laughter, and the girl grinned, showing her white teeth. I moved my hand, and made the spell in my head, and an instant later a fine fat codfish was flapping and gasping on the earthen pathway, and the brown-skinned girl was gone. The two infants appeared not to notice, absorbed in their small game. I watched as the fish twisted and jerked, desperate for life. I would leave it just long enough to show I was strong; just long enough to prove to my grandmother that I could do this. Then I would point my finger and speak the charm of undoing. Now, maybe. I began to focus my mind again, and summon the words. But before I could whisper them, a woman came bustling out of the cottage, a sharp knife in her hand and a frown on her lined features. She was a big woman, and she stopped on the path right before me, blocking my view of the thrashing fish. And while I could not see the creature I had changed, I could not work the counter-spell.

Move, I willed her. Move now, quick.

‘Brid!’ she called. ‘Where are you, girl?’

Move away. Oh, please.

‘Where’s your sister gone?’ The woman seemed to be addressing the two infants, not expecting a reply. ‘And what’s this doing here?’ Before my horrified gaze she bent and scooped up something from the path. If only she would turn a little, all I needed was a glimpse of silvery tail or staring eye or gasping mouth, and I could change the girl back. I would do it, even if it meant all knew the truth. If I did not do it, I would be a murderer.

‘Who’s been here?’ the woman asked the children. ‘Tinker lads playing tricks? I’ll have something to say to your sister when she gets back, make no doubt of that. Leaving the two of you alone with a tub of wash water, that’s asking for trouble. Still, this’ll go down well with a bit of cabbage and a dumpling or two.’ She made a quick movement with her hand, the one that held the knife, and then, only then, she half-turned, and I saw the fish hanging limp in her grip, indeed transformed into no more than a welcome treat for a hungry family’s table. I was powerless. It was too late. The greatest sorcerer in the world cannot bestow the gift of life. A freezing terror ran through me. It was not just that I had done the unforgivable. It was something far worse. Had not I just proved my grandmother right? I bore the blood of a cursed line, a line of sorcerers and outcasts. It seemed I could not fight that; it would manifest itself as it chose. Were not my steps set inevitably towards darkness? I turned and fled in silence, and the woman never saw me.