The Caller by Juliet Marillier Read Free Book Online

‘Before I tell you more, may I ask . . . are you a representative of the White Lady? One of her people?’
    The invisible presence snorted in derision. ‘Ye’re in the Watch o’ the East, are ye no’? What were ye thinkin’, that ye’d run intae a clan o’ folk loyal tae the Master o’ Shadows?’
    A shrill chorus from the tiny beings suggested they concurred with this assessment of my stupidity.
    ‘As it happens,’ I said, keeping my tone courteous, ‘when I met the Master of Shadows in person, it was not in his own Watch, but in the north. That made me wonder if perhaps he and his people may be found anywhere. I think it’s possible they are no respecters of borders.’
    ‘Southies dinna ken the meanin’ o’ respect.’
    There was a pause; a silence that had an expectant quality. I did not speak, and after some time the voice came again. ‘Ye plannin’ on tellin’ us, then? Isna that why ye’ve come tae these pairts?’
    ‘I had hoped some of your own kind, from the north and the west, might have travelled here before me and spread the word about this undertaking. That was the plan. I know they have done so in their own Watches, so the news is widely known among the Good Folk there.’
    Another silence. Then, ‘Spread the word, ye say? Would that be a flock o’ witawoos hootin’ the message for any ear tae hear? Or hawks perhaps, flyin’ doon tae gie the news tae a bunch o’ oor wee folk and snappin’ up ane or twa for supper just by the by?’
    I suppressed a sigh. ‘Messengers. Good Folk who can fly.’
    ‘We might hae caught a wee whisper o’ that sort. Somethin’ aboot a battle, and cauld iron. Nae guid news. There’s enough death and hurtin’ in Alban already. Why would we be wantin’ mair?’
    ‘The news that came to you may not have mentioned a Caller. That is what I am. I’m seeking the White Lady in the hope of receiving some wisdom. I’m hoping she will teach me the better use of my gift.’ I could hardly make it plainer than that.
    The invisible presence said nothing; instead, a rippling sound came from the tiny beings. I interpreted it as mocking laughter.
    ‘I watched a group of women conducting a ritual here at dusk yesterday, and I saw some of you flying around them. I know most of your kind do not like dealing with humankind, but your presence there suggested you might be prepared to talk to me.’
    ‘Aye.’ The voice had a tinge of sorrow in it now. ‘The wise women dinna see the wee folk the way ye do, but they feel the presence. This here, the Beehives, ’tis the last place, ye ken?’
    ‘The last place?’ That had a particularly forlorn sound.
    ‘The last place in a’ this Watch where human folk conduct the auld rituals in the open. Could be the last place in a’ Alban. There’s a house o’ wise women close by; they come tae the Beehives. If no’ for that, I’d be a’ gone awa’.’
    So my suspicions had been right. This was the White Lady herself. How had she shrunk to this? ‘But the others,’ the protest burst out despite my attempt to stay calm, ‘the Hag, the Lord of the North, they are still standing strong despite everything!’
    ‘That’s no’ what I heard,’ the invisible presence said. ‘Wasna the Lord sunk in a sleep sae deep his ain folk couldna wake him? Three hundred years and mair, that was the word came tae me.’
    ‘The Lord is awake now and restored to his old self. When I went to his hall seeking learning, his household asked me if I could wake him. I called his wife back from far away, and she broke the spell he had set on himself. Broke it with a kiss.’
    Utter silence.
    ‘And the Hag of the Isles is a strong presence in the west, known to the human folk of that place, if not always seen by them. Three hundred years is a long time. The Lord of the North did not withdraw from the world because of Keldec and the woeful state of Alban. He did so out of grief for his lost daughter. Sorrow sent him hiding away within