The cursed towers 273
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hung up to dry. Isabeau was very weary after her labors of the day and rather dispirited.
Staring into the flames, she remembered how she had sat here herself as a little girl, helping Meghan spin
the winter away, being told stories about the Three Spinners. Meghan had said they gave three gifts at the
birth of a child. The spinner Sniomhar, the goddess of birth, gave joy. The weaver Breabadair, goddess
of life, gave toil and its contentment. And she who cuts the thread, Gear-radh, the goddess of death, gave
sorrow. Isabeau gave a slight, wistful smile and told herself she had to strive now for contentment. She
had had joy in her brief, happy childhood, she had had sorrow. Now was the time for her to toil and be
content.
Isabeau was roused from her abstraction by the lilting sound of music. She smiled and glanced lovingly
down at Bronwen's dark head, constantly amazed at how beautifully the little girl played her flute. Her
eyes widened as she saw the child's ragdoll dancing about on the floor as if it had come alive. It waltzed
and curtsied in perfect time to Bronwen's playing, spreading its little skirt and bowing its raggedy head as
the tune came to an end.
At the sound of her mother's in-drawn breath Bronwen glanced up, and the ragdoll collapsed into a heap
on the floor. Isabeau looked up too and was shocked at the expression on the Fairge's face. It was not
amazement or even pride at her daughter's cleverness but rather calculation, almost greed. Isabeau
frowned, troubled, as Maya became aware of Isabeau's scrutiny and smoothed her expression.
"Who's a canny lass then," she said brightly, "making your dolly dance to your tune."
Bronwen smiled and said, "I can make them all dance, Mam, watch!"
She lifted her flute to her lips again and played another infectious tune and all the toys scattered around
the floor began to waltz around. The spinning top whirled faster and faster, the dragon rocked back and
forth, the wheeled horse ran round in circles and the two bluebird rattles swooped about, touching wings
and then beaks. The ragdoll and little wooden puppets Isabeau had made all pranced about, bobbing up
and down and touching hands in a perfect imitation of a waltz. Even the two little drumsticks danced up
and down upon the drum, marking the tempo in perfect time.
Isabeau watched enthralled and clapped her hands as the tune reached its end and all the toys bowed to
each other and then sat down with a plop. Even as they both exclaimed over Bronwen's cleverness,
Isabeau was wondering rather uneasily what she was to do with a child who showed such early promise
of an extraordinary Talent. She was conscious of a glint in Maya's eye and reminded herself yet again that
the Fairge could not be trusted. Despite all her warm endearments and caressing ways, Isabeau was not
convinced that Maya loved Bronwen as deeply and sincerely as she did herself.
Early the next morning the three of them went to the underground loch so that Maya and Bronwen could
swim and transform. Although it was a beautiful spring day and Isabeau would much rather have been out
in the sunshine, she refused Maya's offer to take Bronwen by herself, replying curtly that she did not want
them getting lost underground.
"Och, I think I know the way by now," Maya replied silkily, which only made Isabeau more determined
to stay close to her side.
The two Fairgean left their clothes on the rocks and dived into the water, changing almost immediately
into their sea-shapes. As always Isabeau was fascinated by this process, so different to all the other
magic she had ever studied. She watched closely and rather jealously as they sported together in the
icy-cold loch, splashing each other with their tails. Then Maya dived beneath the surface and Bronwen
immediately followed, her little tail flipping out cheekily before disappearing from sight.
