The Promise Witch Page 3

  Unaware of the fuming girl striding her way, Marsinda spoke to the man still crouched at her feet. “Gilborn,” she said. “Show this queen what Marshlanders are worth.”

  The man immediately pressed the tips of his fingers to the ground. His broad face filled first with concentration, then with determination, then – very quickly – with pain.

  Mup stopped walking, alarmed at his growing distress.

  Gently, his leader put a supportive hand on the man’s back. One by one, his people came forward and did the same. “You can do it,” murmured Marsinda.

  “We’re with you,” said his friends.

  “By grace,” whispered one of Mam’s councillors. “Look at his fingers.”

  Mup dropped her attention from the man’s agonized expression to the tips of his fingers, still pressed hard to the arid ground. It looked like heat shimmer at first; just a barely perceptible glimmer at his fingertips. Then the ground around his hand darkened. Then it began to gleam. The man’s fingers sank into the newly softened earth as water seeped up around them.

  “I can’t, Marsinda,” he gasped as water bubbled up around his hand. “I can’t do no more.”

  “Stop, then,” murmured his leader. “Stop. Be at peace.”

  The man collapsed back into the supporting arms of his companions. Marsinda stepped forward, as if to protect him from the gaping attention of Mam’s council. She peered into Mam’s face. “What are you offering?” she asked again.

  Mam dragged her attention from the gleaming puddle of water at her feet. “Come inside,” she said. “Let’s talk.”

  The delegation passed Mup by in a buzz of distraction. Mam and Dad were out of sight at the heart of the group. It wasn’t clear to Mup if the others hadn’t noticed her, or if she simply wasn’t important to them. She didn’t mind. She wasn’t interested any longer in their conversation, and she certainly wasn’t interested in accompanying them inside. She was only interested in the rapidly drying dark patch where the man had pressed his hand to the ground. She crouched and touched her fingertips to it. The ground tingled with ticklish leftover magic. The water was disappearing. Even as Mup held her hands to the dampness, she could feel it being sucked away – down to the dark, lost places where her grandmother’s magic held it captive.

  No, she thought. Come back!

  She pressed both hands hard onto the now dry earth, searching desperately for the thin thread of river that the man had somehow been able to guide to the surface. There it was! Receding away, fast, fast, fast! Plummeting down to join the rest of its kind in the darkness.

  Mup stretched downwards with her mind. Trying to catch it.

  “You’ll hurt yourself,” called a voice.

  Two figures rose to their feet at the base of the castle wall. It was Marty and his little sister. They had been crouched together in the scant shade thrown by the jutting foundations, obviously watching their mother at work. It would seem their people had about as much interest in them as they’d had in Mup, because they had already disappeared into the castle, leaving the children behind.

  Marty was hurrying towards her, his little sister trailing anxiously in his wake. “Don’t try that on your own!” he warned.

  Mup heard the concern in his voice and it just made her angry. She’d show those greedy Marshlanders. She’d do this herself, and then where would they be with their demands?

  She returned her attention to the retreating river.

  She sent her thoughts after it. I’m here! Can’t you hear me?

  To Mup’s amazement, the river did hear her. It grabbed for her. Like a falling person might snatch a life rope, the river snatched the part of herself that Mup had sent after it.

  It held on, as if clinging to Mup’s hand. But Mup wasn’t strong enough to prevent the river’s fall. Instead of Mup pulling the river up to her, the river dragged Mup down … or rather, it dragged all Mup’s moisture with it.

  Mup slammed to her hands and knees as every ounce of water in her body tried to follow the river underground. Let me go! she thought. But the river, desperate to stop itself plummeting down into the dark, clung mindlessly on.

  There came a dreadful sucking sensation. Her skin began to shrivel.

  Dimly aware of the children running towards her, Mup struggled to free herself from the greedy earth. Her hands were withering. Her arms were getting thin. Mup felt the heart in her chest begin to shrink and waste. She opened her mouth to scream and her breath was nothing but breeze on her dried-out lips.

  The boy crouched beside her just as Mup toppled sideways into the dust.

  “Help her!” yelled the little girl, hopping from foot to foot behind her brother.

  He stared into Mup’s eyes as the ground proceeded to suck the moisture from her very blood.

  “You can fly,” he said.

  Mup struggled to speak. “Help … me…”

  The words were barely audible.

  “I want to fly,” said Marty. “Say you’ll teach me, and I’ll set you free.”

  You jerk! thought Mup, rage quite spectacularly overcoming her terror.

  The boy must have seen the anger in her eyes. He chuckled, half in admiration, half in scorn.

  “You ain’t in much position for outrage, ma’am. You’re almost dried to a husk. Promise to teach me how to fly and I’ll set you free.”

  Mup’s tongue was almost too dry to move. “Join … our … school. We’ll … teach … you … everything…”

  The boy sat back in astonishment.

  “Marty! Marty!” cried his little sister. “She’s turning to dust!”

  Mup’s sight began to dim. Her eyeballs dried over.

  “Marty!” squealed the little girl.

  Something cool lay itself on Mup’s shoulder, and the link with the cursed river broke with a tangible ping. Freshness flowed through Mup as her own moisture returned to fill her out. Drawn up from the ground by the weight of Marty’s hand on her shoulder, blood raced through her: plumping the sad, dry, wizened twigs of Mup’s arms and legs; filling her heart, her eyes, her brain; rushing joyfully, gleefully, into the empty chambers of her body until she was whole again.

  Mup gasped as her lungs filled with air. Her tongue uncleaved itself from the roof of her mouth. She yelled into Marty’s face. “You monster. Why did you wait so long?”

  Marty snatched his hand from her shoulder, stood up, and strode away.

  Mup raised herself on shaking arms, watching him go.

  “Will you really teach him to fly?” whispered his little sister.

  “Of course,” Mup rasped. “He didn’t have to try and force me. That’s what school is for. We teach anyone who wants to learn.”

  “Even me?” The little girl’s eyes grew even larger. “But I ain’t important!”

  Mup dragged herself to her feet, leaning on the little girl’s shoulder.

  “What’s your name?” she rasped.

  “Grislet.”

  “Grislet, everyone is important. Just … just come to Mam’s school, OK? Come to school and we’ll teach you anything you want to learn.” She glanced over to Marty, who lurked uncertainly in the shadow of the castle. “He looks scared.”

  “Aye. He’s afraid he’ll be punished.”

  “For what? He saved me.”

  “Aye, but he didn’t get a payment for it.”

  “Oh, come on!” cried Mup.

  The little girl shook her head at Mup’s innocence. “I like you, ma’am,” she said unexpectedly. “You smell nice. You’ve got pretty colours on you.”

  “Um … thank you.”

  “But you’re castle folk, ma’am. Our mam says that no castle bully will ever take anything from us again – not without paying first. If our mam finds out Marty helped you without getting something in return. Well…” Her rueful shrug left the consequences of Marty’s actions unspoken but clearly suggested.

  Mup bent to look into the little girl’s golden eyes. “I won’t tell on your brother,” she promised
.

  “And?”

  “And what?” asked Mup.

  “And what do you want in return?”

  Mup sighed. “Nothing, Grislet. I don’t want anything in return.”

  She began wobbling her way back to the castle. After a few unsteady steps, she was startled by the cool, damp feel of Grislet’s arm slipping around her waist. The little girl said nothing, just supported some of Mup’s weight. Mup wasn’t stupid enough to say thank you. They walked on.

  “I’m not castle folk, you know, Grislet.”

  The golden eyes flashed her way, just briefly, a small, sarcastic look.

  “Really,” insisted Mup. “I’m just an ordinary person.”

  “You live in a castle, ma’am. Your mother be the queen. Your grandmother was the queen.”

  “But…”

  “You’re castle folk, ma’am,” said Grislet.

  Her tone was so flat, so matter-of-fact, that Mup stopped talking. What was she trying to prove by insisting she wasn’t a castle person? Was she trying to pretend that she was just like Marty and Grislet? She wasn’t like them. She hadn’t had to live their lives. They were not and never would be the same. It doesn’t matter, thought Mup, squeezing Grislet’s shoulder. It doesn’t matter how different we are. We’ll find a way to work together.

  The castle foundations rose high above the riverbed like a sheer cliff. The steps seemed miles away, and Mup eyed them with despair. She wasn’t sure how she was going to manage getting back inside. She didn’t feel particularly able to walk, let alone fly.

  As they approached, Marty stuck out his arm and Grislet slipped to his side. His eyes stayed on the ground the whole time. “Let’s go in to Mam,” he mumbled.

  Grislet slid a look to Mup. “Are we allowed to you-know-what in front of you-know-who?”

  Marty raised his chin. “Free people can do whatever they like, Grislet. Come on.”

  Quick as a shimmer, Marty and Grislet transformed. It took Mup a moment to understand exactly what had happened. She was so used to seeing people transform into cats and ravens, that her mind did not register what she’d seen. At first she thought they’d just disappeared. But then a small, sand-coloured lizard ran up the wall by her side. It was joined by another even smaller lizard.

  They clung there for a moment, staring at Mup with big, golden eyes. Then the bigger one said, “I won’t help you again, ma’am. If you’re reckless enough to commune with betrapped water, you’ll be on your own.”

  With a flick of his tail, Marty skittered away up the wall.

  His little sister blinked at Mup. “He’s actually very nice,” she whispered. “He’d never really let you turn to dust.” She hurried after her brother.

  The two little lizards scaled the wall with no effort at all. Soon they were at the top, over the edge, into the courtyard and out of sight. Mup was left alone in the heat, feeling like someone had wrung her like a rag, and hung her out to dry.

  Dark Music, Grey Girl

  Mup managed to float to the top of the boat steps and stumble into the yard. She was so tired she felt broken, so dry her eyeballs felt like sand. There was no sign of Marty and Grislet. Mup wondered how they expected to find their way in the great imposing labyrinth of the palace. Fírinne was no longer guarding the schoolroom door. Perhaps she’d taken them to their parents?

  The empty courtyard was very still, the only movement the constant scrolling of the memorial wall at the back of the yard. Had Marty seen the names? Grislet was too young yet to see them – to her the wall would just be a wall. But surely Marty was old enough?

  No doubt the sight of it had brought him to a halt for a moment – as it did everyone who came to the castle. What had he made of it? Mup wondered. What had his mother and her councillors made of it, and of Mam’s insistence that it be here, visible to any who visited, the open acknowledgement of all the harm perpetrated under the old queen?

  Happy voices filtered through the stillness, the shrieks and laughter of children at play. Mup smiled as she realized the boisterous sounds were combined with barking and hooting and – was that the trumpeting of an elephant? She laughed. What had Emberly and Naomi let themselves in for? She wobbled her way towards the guardroom, ready for a sit-down, more than ready for a long cool drink of water.

  She was only halfway across the yard when Naomi appeared in the inky rectangle of the guardroom door. There came a shimmer behind her, a fizz of colour. With a gasp of wonder, Mup saw that the guardroom had filled with butterflies. Naomi paused in the doorway. The butterflies gathered around her. For a moment the ghost’s pale face and dark hair were haloed in a riot of colour. Then the butterflies fluttered past her and out into the sunshine.

  One of the butterflies flew right up to Mup. “Hello!” it said, in a faint but instantly recognizable voice. It was the little girl who had been so scared earlier! “Do you like my new colours?” The butterfly spun in the air. “My sister says that butterflies are useless, but Doctor Emberly says, ‘we must simply enjoy being ourselves without seeking other people’s…’ Um… ‘other people’s…’”

  “‘APPROVAL!’” chorused the rest of the butterflies.

  They clustered around. Delighted, Mup lifted her hand, and her little friend landed on her finger. The others landed on Mup’s hair and shoulders and face, laughing and chattering, and singing together in tiny voices.

  Naomi spoke above the chatter. “Go back to the garden now. In where it is safe.”

  The butterflies rose in a giggling cloud and streamed past her into the darkness of the castle. Naomi watched after them, as if waiting for them to pass into safety.

  The happy sounds from inside swelled as the butterflies rejoined their school mates.

  “Is that really an elephant trumpeting?” laughed Mup.

  But her amusement died at Naomi’s frowning look. “What has happened out here?” asked the witch. “I felt… I don’t know what I felt. An unpleasantness. A darkening. Was it you?”

  Mup was tempted to lie, but the ghost’s expression brooked no evasions, so she told Naomi everything. Naomi’s habitual coolness softened somewhat.

  “That was an extremely foolish thing to do,” she murmured.

  “I’m sorry. I thought I could make a path to the water. I thought…”

  “You thought you could perform magic that not even your mother is capable of.”

  “Please don’t tell Mam.”

  “Children must not play with curses.”

  “I wasn’t playing.”

  The ghost bent to look Mup in the eye. She spoke every word with stern emphasis. “You cannot fight your grandmother’s magic alone. None of us can. Promise me you won’t try such a thing again.”

  Mup looked away. “I… I need to lie down, Naomi.”

  She waited for Naomi to once again request a promise. But the ghost simply sighed, straightened, and let the subject go. “The students are at break,” she said. “They shall be fine under Doctor Emberly’s supervision. I shall take the time to bring you and Crow to your room where you can sleep off your recklessness.”

  “Crow’s not with me! Isn’t he inside?”

  Naomi frowned. “He left when break started. I had assumed you were together.”

  “No.”

  “Perhaps he has gone to his vardo.”

  The vardo. That song. That crawling darkness.

  “Naomi, have you noticed anything strange about Crow recently?”

  “If I am perfectly honest, I find most children strange.”

  Mup sighed. Naomi eyed her shrewdly.

  “But, do you perhaps mean the shadows that our friend has begun to inadvertently trail around after him?”

  Startled, Mup met the witch’s gaze.

  “Perhaps you are not the only one playing with powerful magic,” said Naomi quietly. “Do you suppose Crow might need some advice?”

  “Maybe.”

  “From me?”

  “Um…”

  Naomi folded her hands
. “I understand,” she said. “He does not trust me.”

  “No!” hurried Mup. “It’s just…” She gestured at Naomi’s clothes. “Naomi … couldn’t you do something about the uniform? Change into a less … upsetting outfit?”

  “I cannot. I died in this uniform; it is mine forever. But, in truth, even had I a choice I do not think I would change my appearance. Other clothes would only serve to hide what I had been, what I allowed to be done to others. I will not run from the rightful disapprobation of those who suffered at the hands of my kind.”

  “But you were just a kid when you were made join the raggedy witches! You had no choice!”

  “I have a choice now. I choose to atone.”

  Mup couldn’t think of what to say to that.

  Naomi turned away. “You fly up to Crow’s camp. I will meet you there.”

  “You’re taking the stairs?” asked Mup, already knowing the answer.

  “Of course.”

  “Wouldn’t it be quicker to fly?”

  Naomi turned back. Her expression told Mup that she was weary of this conversation, but was willing to have it as many times as necessary until people got the point. “In life, I stood by as others suffered, Mup. I allowed others to die, all so that I might be granted the opportunity to use my own magic. Do you understand?”

  Mup nodded.

  “I will never use magic again,” said Naomi. She turned away once more. “Fly up to Crow. I will join you as soon as I am able. If our friend is willing to accept my advice, I shall give it to him. If not, we will find someone less tainted to help him.”

  Mup felt the darkness before she’d even cleared the edge of the roof. She heard the song too, drifting like a shadow under the scent of thyme blossom and early hyacinth. She rose above the level of the parapet. There was dread in her heart, but she was prepared now, as she hadn’t been before, for the tangle of power that permeated the sunny roof garden.

  Oh, Crow, she thought. What are you doing?

  Was this why her friend insisted on being alone? Was this why he lived so far from everyone?