The Witches of Eileanan Read Online Free PDF

page that had gone before; many were ornately illustrated with brightly colored pictures of dragons and winged horses, or the tracks of stars and moons, or the shape of unfamiliar lands. Like many of Meghan's books, the last page was empty, untouched, yet Isabeau knew by experience that if you should write on that page and turn the leaf, there would be another blank page there waiting for your pen. She was never able to work out how it got there or when, but the magic never failed.
As Isabeau wondered why Meghan had denied the book's existence, Seychella, apparently accepting Meghan's explanation, went on to talk about how difficult it was to get the right ingredients for spells and medicines when the merchants' ships no longer dared face the sea serpents. "I am almost out o' rhinfrew," the witch said testily, "and the Power ken, I havena much murkwoad left either."
"Aye, it may be time for a journey to the ports," Meghan said dreamily.
Isabeau's heart jumped with excitement. They had never ventured further away from the mountains than the highlands of Rionnagan. Isabeau had heard of the dangerous beauty of the sea, but she had never seen any water greater than Tuathan Loch at Caeryla. She hoped Meghan meant what she said. What an adventure! It would take months to reach the sea from their home, and they would have to travel half the country. She might see fairy creatures, or sea serpents, or even visit the Rìgh's palace.
"Bedtime, Isabeau," Meghan said, getting stiffly to her feet and gathering up the dirty dishes.
"But it's only early—"
"Ye've been out on the mountain all day, remember. Ye can hardly keep your eyes open!" her guardian retorted, limping around the room.
"But—"
"No excuses, Beau. Bedtime."
Reluctantly Isabeau bade the two witches goodnight and climbed up the ladder to her room, which was cold and dark. Faint light flickered up the stairs, but she did not bother to light a candle for her night vision was exceptionally good. She was able to see in the dark room almost as easily as she had out in the meadows that afternoon. Meghan had always said she could see like an elven cat.
In her cold little bed, Isabeau slowly stretched her legs, enjoying the chill of the sheets against her skin, and wondering about the unexpected appearance of the stranger-witch. She smiled, imagining how she would impress the supercilious Seychella by passing the Test of Power with ease. She would make the black-haired witch's eyes pop out. She was still planning her triumph when Meghan clambered up the ladder and came and sat on the edge of her bed, as she always did.
"Asleep, Beau?"
"Mmm-mmm. Meghan, did ye mean what ye said about traveling down to the sea?"
"Indeed, I did. Things are afoot, and much as I am loath to leave our wee valley, if things are to go the way I wish, I must take a hand in the weaving. Now, go to sleep, Isabeau. It'll be a long day tomorrow." With that cryptic remark, the old witch bent and kissed Isabeau on the forehead, between the eyes, as she did every night.

When she was gone, Isabeau gave a wriggle of excitement and fell into a reverie of adventures and explorations, palaces and fairies. She had been feeling restless ever since the snow had begun to thaw and life again quickened all around her. She was often bored with their sedate life in the secret valley, where every animal was a friend and there was no one to talk to except Meghan. Every season she looked forward to their forays into the mountains for herbs and semiprecious stones; even greater was her excitement when the two of them journeyed down into the villages to sell their potions and love spells. Isabeau had never been further south than the highland town of Caeryla, which they had visited eight years earlier.
It had been festival time, the time of the red comet, a season of fertility and strong magic. The streets of Caeryla were strung with colored ribbons and flags, pots of flowers decorated every doorstep and the townsfolk were dressed