The Witches of Eileanan Read Online Free PDF Page A

the intent behind. They never forget, never, and are utterly ruthless. I have never heard o' a Mesmerd out o' Arran before—I wonder if the NicFóghnan is meddling in our affairs again? That clan has always been an enemy o' the MacCuinns ..."
"They sound most blaygird, though no one I spoke to had actually seen one, only . . . found the bodies they left behind."
"I wonder . . ." Meghan looked as though she was about to say more, but then her eye fell upon Isabeau, noting her shining eyes and eager face, and she stopped herself, picking up her knitting instead.
"What kind o' witch are ye?" Isabeau asked Seychella, gazing intently at the woman whose untidy hair snaked around the seat of her chair and fell to the floor.
"What makes ye think I am a witch?" Seychella asked in a voice of deadly calm. Isabeau said nothing. After a moment Seychella laughed. "I appear out o' nowhere, I speak o' power and Talent; I ken Tabithas. Silly question." After another pause, she said quietly, "I am a wind witch, Isabeau."
"Can ye teach me to fly?" Isabeau asked eagerly. That had always been her secret desire. Once she had broken her ankle, trying to take flight from the bough of a tree after reading of the antics of Ishbel the Winged, a witch who flew as effortlessly as any bird. Meghan set her ankle and bound it with herbs and mud, and fed her bone-strengthening teas, scolding and mocking all the while. Isabeau had only tossed her red head and ignored her, sure she would one day crack the secrets of flight, as Ishbel the Winged had done.
The two witches looked at each other, and Seychella curled her lip. "The bairn canna even walk yet and she wants to fly! Only the most powerful learn to fly, my dear, I doubt ye have the capacity."
Isabeau flushed again, and blurted out. "Well, do ye? Can ye fly?" With her red hair falling out of its braids into twists and tangles around her face and her red cheeks, Isabeau looked as though sparks would literally burst from her head.
Meghan had to laugh, murmuring, "Ye see why I think she will take to fire!"
The other witch looked quite taken aback, then angry at Isabeau's question. Then she gave a harsh laugh. "No, lassie, I canna. At least, no' the way ye mean it. I can jump a twelve-foot fence and I'll never fall out o' a tree, but I canna fly."
"I've read about a witch who could fly from one end o' the country to another in a week, and who could do somersaults and backflips in the air."
"Ishbel! Well, a Talent like Ishbel's does no' come along too often." Seychella sighed, "I fear we'll no' see a Talent like it again in our lifetime. Damn and blast the Banrìgh! So many witches killed, so much ability lost."
"I've also read about witches who folded the fabric of the universe and sailed across space. Is that true?"
"Where did ye read that! It's forbidden, ye ken, to talk about the Great Crossing. Ye'd be put to the Question if ye were heard! What sort o' book did ye read that in, lassie?"
Meghan cleared her throat. "I've always had a passion for books."
"But that's a story she could only be reading about in the Book of Shadows, which was destroyed by the Banrìgh on the Day o' Betrayal!" Seychella was sitting bolt upright, her cheeks crimson. "She would be burned by the Awl if they heard her saying such things—they deny all stories o' the Great Crossing now, ye must ken that?"
"I wrote down what I could remember, from all the books. So many books were burned, so much knowledge lost. I was afraid it would never be found again if someone did no' try to remember."
Isabeau said nothing, thoughtfully choosing another honeycake from the plate on the unsteady table by the fire. She knew as well as Meghan did that although many of the books piled on every table and shelf were written in Meghan's spidery handwriting, this particular book was an enormous, ancient affair, bound in red leather, with a tarnished silver key as long as Isabeau's longest finger. Each page was filled with handwriting different from the