The cursed towers 270
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"So what do we have to do to convince them? We have little hope o' victory without their help." Iseult
tried hard to keep the despair out of her voice. She had hoped against all odds that they would be able to
bargain for the Mesmerdeans' neutrality, at the very least. Iain had explained that the marsh faeries only
supported his mother because she had promised to restore the lands the MacThanach clan had drained
back to swampland. It seemed the Mesmerdeans' loyalties to the Thistle ran deeper, however.
"They will n-n-no' give up their q-q-quest for revenge so easily," Iain said grimly. "They have ye and
L-L-Lach-lan marked as kin-killers, no' to mention M-M-Meghan, Gwilym and Isabeau . . ."
"Isabeau?"
"Aye, I think that is who they meant. It is hard to understand every subtle nuance o' their humming, but
they certainly indicated one who was kin unto ye, and Isabeau was all I could think o'."
"But how could Isabeau have killed a Mesmerd up on the Spine o' the World?" Iseult said without
thinking, immediately attracting Meghan's fierce gaze. The sorceress made no comment, however,
twisting the rings on her gnarled fingers thoughtfully.
"If we w-w-want their help," Iain said, "they w-w-want the lives o' those who have killed
M-M-Mesmerdean. I said that was n-n-no' possible. They 1-1-leave us to think about it. If we do
n-n-no' agree they shall return when the sun is high and t-t-take all o' our lives."
"But why?" Iseult cried. "They attacked us, we were all merely defending ourselves. Does that count for
nothing?"
Iain was silent for a moment. "I'll try and explain," he said at last. "The Mesmerdean do no' have the same
respect for life as we do. They live only a few years anyway and most o' their existence is ruled by the
copulation wheel." He blushed, his prominent Adam's apple bobbing. Not looking at Iseult or Meghan he
went on rather rapidly, "This no' only means the actual act o' copulation, called the wheel for the shape
they make, but for the whole cycle o' birth, life, and death. Only the nymphs have the freedom to travel
far from their territory. Once they are fully mature, the Mesmerdean elders live very close to the swamp
and their own patch o' water, where they breed and lay the eggs and watch over the naiads. So the
elders live through the nymphs. They see what they see and experience what they experience. Nymphs
can travel quite widely and have many adventures."
Iain paused, trying to find words. "It is hard to explain but Mesmerdean are rather like . . . spiritual
leeches. When they kiss someone to death they swallow their life essence, all their memories and
knowledge. Mesmerdean do no' kill for food or even sport. It is a sort o' intellectual hunger. What they
learn from those whose lives they take is transmitted to all Mesmerdean. What one Mesmerdean sees, all
Mesmerdean see. When a Mesmerd dies, however, that transmission is lost and all that they have learnt
is lost too, unless they have had a chance to procreate. A Mesmerd's memories are passed down to its
children and so preserved generation after generation. If a Mesmerd dies before it procreates, however,
all that they have learnt is lost to the entire race—which o' course is what happens if they die while still
nymphs. Do ye understand?"
"The auld ones get bored, live through the young ones; if a young one dies, they lose the connection, get
bored again and want revenge for the knowledge they've lost," Iseult said swiftly. "Is that right?"
Gwilym laughed harshly. "Bang on the nail, Your Highness."
Iain smiled reluctantly. "Ye see, the Mesmerdean elders are fascinated by what ye ken and have done.
They want that . . . life knowledge. The Mesmerdean nymphs ye killed had traveled far and wide and
learnt a great deal about life beyond the swamp. The elders were angry to lose that knowledge; having
