Dragonclaw by Kate Forsyth Read Free Book Online

‘But I mun take the wee lass home to her ma. I shouldna stayed so late but the fire was so warm …’
    â€˜But surely ye do no’ bide in these parts. I’ve never seen ye afore,’ the voice said, and the man moved forward a little so the dim light from the half-open door fell across his face.
    â€˜Aye, sir,’ Meghan said in her cracked voice. ‘The Collene family has bided in these here parts for many a long year.’
    â€˜But surely that red hair is no’ what you’d expect to find in these parts,’ the man said smoothly, and Isabeau was conscious of a sudden fear.
    â€˜Och, the reds be from her granda,’ Meghan cackled. ‘He didna bide here. He came from the west to jump the fire; a good man he was, if a wee hot-tempered. But ye mun excuse us, sir, the lassie’s ma will be worrying.’ And without waiting for an answer, she hobbled out of the gate into the dark night beyond, then immediately picked up her skirts and ran nimbly across the street and into the alley beyond. ‘Hush, Beau,’ she cautioned. ‘Say nothing. Do no’ move.’
    Obediently Isabeau crouched by her side as the man came out the gate in a hurry and paused, peering down the street as if to look for them. They watched in silence until at last he shrugged and went back inside; then Meghan shook out her skirts and dragged Isabeau to her feet. ‘Ye’ll be fetching water and cutting wood for a month after this, lassie!’
    The old witch and the little girl then had to escape the town as quickly and unobtrusively as they could, for within minutes the Red Guards were searching the streets for them. Since Caeryla had only three gates set in its high stone walls, each guarded closely, they had to slither down a sewer, much to Meghan’s disgust. They landed in the loch below with a faint splash and clambered out with dripping hair and skirts and a rather apprehensive glance at the mist-wreathed waters, for the loch of Caeryla was famous for its uile-bheist , a mysterious serpentlike creature which often snatched those unwary enough to stand on its shores or swim in its waters.
    That night they walked until dawn, both wet and shivering with cold, at last finding cover in the forests to the east. Meghan had still not allowed Isabeau to rest, even though it was Candlemas, and so Isabeau’s eighth birthday. In the fresh dawn, she lit a fire, and the two of them performed the Candlemas rites as Isabeau had done every year since she was born. This year was different, though, for once the rites were completed, Meghan did not douse the fire and allow them to rest, but tested Isabeau on her witchcraft skills and knowledge. The tests went on for hours, despite Isabeau’s exhaustion, and the little girl feared she was being punished for her demonstration of power in the inn. At last Meghan allowed her to sleep, but Isabeau’s dreams were fitful and filled with nightmares.
    When she woke that afternoon, she found to her delight that the caravan of jongleurs had chosen the copse of trees to camp in as well. Dide was there, impatient for Isabeau to wake so they could play again, with his little sister Nina tumbling about the copse without a stitch of clothing on, her hair almost as red as Isabeau’s. For seven days they stayed in the shelter of the forest, Isabeau having the time of her life with so many playmates. Meghan seemed to have made friends too, with Dide’s grandmother Enit, a frail woman with a hunched back and hands like claws, and a sweet, melodious voice. The two old women spent a great deal of time huddled over the fire, reading manuscripts and arguing about spells, or else disappearing into the woods with the grandmother’s familiar, a blackbird with one white feather above his left eye.
    Isabeau was surprised to discover Meghan and Enit knew each other from old days, before the Day of Betrayal, since the wood witch had not demonstrated any