The cursed towers 295
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Meghan hooted, soft and low, and the elf-owl hooted back.
"I do no' ken what I should do without her now," Isabeau said. "It has been lonely at the Cursed Towers.
Even though I ken she should be living with the other owls, I rather hope she does no' fly away, at least
for a while."
"She shall no' fly away," Meghan said.
Isabeau smiled and rubbed her chin against Buba's tufted head. "I was sorry indeed about Jorge," she
burst out. "Och, it was an awful week! I saw through the scrying pool . . ."
Meghan was silent, though her hand shook. Isabeau glanced up and saw tears shining on her guardian's
furrowed face. "I do no' think there is any greater grief," Meghan said curtly, "than to outlive all those that
ye love most."
There was a long silence, then she went on, "That is why I left the Coven all those years ago, sick at heart
to be still alive when I should have died a comfortable auld age like my father and my sister and all my
friends and lovers. Then I saw the Weaver still had a place for me in the pattern. I found ye, the bonny,
naughty lass that ye were, and I saved Lachlan as best I could. I saw I must go on living and so I forged
on, doing what had to be done. For Jorge to die like that, though, to die in agony in the flames when he
was the gentlest soul alive ..." Her voice shook and her little donbeag whimpered and clung tighter around
her neck. She put up a thin, trembling hand and soothed him.
Very low, she said, "It is odd that I should put my faith in Ea all my life and only now, when we have
triumphed against our enemies and restored Ea's veneration, have my faith falter."
"No!" Isabeau cried. "Meghan!"
The old sorceress nodded. "I ken it is weak and foolish to blame the universe for the evil o' humans. I o'
all people ken that Ea is as much darkness as light, as much death as life. Still, since Jorge died, it seems I
can see only her dark face."
"May Ea shine her bright face upon ye." Isabeau whispered the ritual phrase.
Meghan stroked her hair. "Indeed, with your bright face near me again, I find myself much comforted,"
she said. "I am glad ye came for the signing o' the Pact o' Peace."
"It is a wonderful thing indeed," Isabeau said.
Meghan nodded. "I think my father would be pleased. Even he could no' manage to bring so many o' the
faeries to sign, nor Arran or Tirsoilleir for that matter. It is no small achievement."
"It is odd how things have turned out," Isabeau said dreamily. "To think I once longed for adventure and
now all I want is to be quiet for a while and enjoy the peace we have won."
"A precarious peace at best," Meghan said dryly. "Do no' forget the Fairgean. Each year they grow
stronger and bolder and soon none o' the rivers or lochan shall be safe. And they are a bloodthirsty
race—they shall no' be content to rule the waves but shall rise forth to try and drive us from the land.
Jorge had disturbing visions o' waves that rose as high as mountains and swept over the land, drowning
villages and cities alike. Indeed he had the gift, for so much o' what he saw has come to pass."
Isabeau gave a little shiver. "The Fairgean hate us," she said in a low voice. "They seek revenge for all the
harm our people have done theirs."
