Juliet Marillier - Hearts Blood

She eyed me up and down, and for a moment her eyes were Ita’s, assessing my body as unacceptable, the sort of form that was designed to draw attention for all the wrong reasons.

“I realize your old things wouldn’t fit me. But I thought maybe . . .”

“Of course, Caitrin. Come with me.” She turned and was off at a brisk walk, leaving me to scurry along in her wake. I followed her through one deserted chamber after another. Like the hill itself, this house was far bigger than it seemed from the outside.There were so many twists and turns that I completely lost my bearings. Eventually Muirne led me through a massive arched doorway and into a chamber of grand proportions, where natural light spilled down through jagged holes in the roof to pool on the flagstones. Rain had come in through the openings and the place smelled of mold. There was an eerie stillness here; the soft sound of my footsteps seemed an intrusion.

“This way,” Muirne said, and headed directly across the chamber towards another door at the far end. I stepped after her somewhat awkwardly. The floor held various piles of debris: half-burned lengths of wood; rolls of ancient, stained fabric; broken glass. And along the sides of the hall stood . . .mirrors. Many, many mirrors, some covered with cloths, some in full view.They were of varied sizes and shapes, the biggest taller than a tall man, the smallest the size of a lady’s hand.Their gleaming surfaces called to me; I felt the pull of them.

“Muirne . . . ?” I whispered, frozen where I stood.

“What?”When I did not reply, she halted and turned. “Come. It’s this way.”

“The mirrors,” I managed. “I don’t want to . . .”

Muirne’s neat brows went up; her lambent eyes were incredulous.“The mirrors can’t harm you,” she said. “Just don’t look in them.”

I swallowed hard and moved on, trying not to glance to either side. But the mirrors made it difficult. From either side of me came their voices, Look here! Look here! , and try as I might, I could not ignore their pleas.With my skin crawling and my heart beating like a drum, I glanced to the right and into the surface of a tall, thin artifact in a dark metal frame. A figure stared back out at me: myself, yet not myself, for though she wore my clothing and bore the shape of my features and my body, she was white-haired and old, her skin wrinkled with time, her mouth not full-lipped and red like mine but seamed and tired, the flesh of her face fallen onto the bones, so I could see death’s touch on her. She smiled at me, revealing shrunken gums in which a few blackened teeth still maintained precarious hold.

My heart knocking, I walked on. Here to the left, a round mirror, artfully made, on a curious three-legged stand with little iron feet. The surface highly polished metal, perhaps bronze; in it, smoke and fire, and from it a roaring, crackling sound, as if I were looking, not into a reflection, but through a window to a scene of terror and destruction.And amid the flames a woman’s voice crying out: Help! Help me! The words turned into a hideous, wrenching scream, and I knew the fire had taken her. I ran after Muirne, glimpsing here a clutching hand, there a pair of anguished eyes, there a scene of snow falling over pines, there a maelstrom of twisting, tangling monsters.

At the far door I stopped to recover myself, leaning on the frame, eyes clenched shut, chest heaving. I told myself I would not be sick again, not indoors, and not in Muirne’s company. I fought to get my breathing under control.

“I’m sorry,” Muirne said, fishing a handkerchief from her pouch and putting it in my hand.“I did not realize you were so disturbed.” She waited patiently while I mopped my eyes, blew my nose and tried to compose myself. “Would you prefer to leave the clothing until later?”

“No,” I gulped, opening my eyes and squaring my shoulders. “Let’s go on. Muirne, is that the great hall? Was there a fire at some stage?”

“Yes.” She offered no more.

We went on through a maze of passageways, then up a long spiral of narrow stone steps.Without ever going outside, we had reached one of the towers. The treads were as worn in the middle as the ones leading to my bedchamber. There were landings, some with rooms opening from them, but Muirne did not pause long enough for me to get more than a quick glimpse in. I had thought perhaps this was the north tower, but where I caught a view from a window I saw no trace of the sea, only dark forest untouched by the light of the rising sun. Another showed mist hanging low over bare fields, which was entirely wrong for any side of the fortress, as far as I knew. The higher we climbed, the harder the claws of unease gripped my stomach.

We reached the topmost landing.There was a low door leading from it.

“It’s in here,” said Muirne.

The little chamber held two storage chests and a colony of spiders, but nothing else save a steep stairway in one corner leading to a trapdoor up above. It was open; I glimpsed pale sky.

“You wish to climb up?” Muirne asked. “There is a wide view from the top: the hill, the settlement, the region all around.”

No! shrieked a little voice inside me.After the mirrors, I simply wanted to get my clothing and go. But Muirne was making an unusual effort to be friendly. I should do the same. “All right,” I said. “Provided it’s safe.You go first.”

I was somewhat relieved, on emerging at the top of the tower, to find that it was securely edged by a waist-high stone wall. I had wondered if the view would be as odd and changeable as the vistas from those windows, but I looked out over the hillside and, turning, saw slow smoke rising from the morning fires of the settlement at its foot, and sheep grazing on level ground to the north of the wooded rise. In the distance was a blue-gray smudge that must be the sea. It was not so very far off. To the northeast, along the coast, I could see another settlement with a defensive palisade around it. “What is that place, my lady?” I asked.

“It lies beyond the borders of Anluan’s territory.” Unspoken but plain in her tone was, Therefore it does not matter.

I looked closer to home.The garden still slept. Down below the towers the sun had not reached the wilderness of bush and briar, the dark pond and the shadowy edges of the woodland. I caught a glimpse of Olcan striding out through a little archway in the fortress wall with a scythe over his shoulder. Fianchu bounded ahead.

“Where is the farm?” I asked. “Magnus spoke of cows and other stock.”

“Down below the wall.” She was thrifty with words.

I tried to engage her in conversation. The summer would be much easier if we were on good terms.“I’ve been surprised that they can keep all this going when there’s so little contact from the outside.”

Her features tightened. She had perhaps taken this as a criticism of her beloved Anluan. “That need not concern you,” she said. After a moment she seemed to relent. Putting a hand on my elbow, she steered me to a vantage point from which I could glimpse a cleared area in the woodland, beyond the opening Olcan had used. “If you find cows and the men who tend them interesting,” Muirne said, “you can walk to the farm that way. It isn’t far.”

“Through the forest?” I queried. “But what about these presences everyone mentions, the ones that the villagers think so dangerous? I know they’re real; I heard them myself, coming up the hill. I felt their touch.”

“The path to the farm is a safe walk;just remember to take the left fork where it branches. But these villagers are correct.There are many perils in these woods.To tell you the truth, Caitrin, I am surprised you have stayed here so long.”

She was still holding my elbow, and it made me uncomfortable.“Long?” I echoed. “I’ve only been here a few days.”

“For Whistling Tor, that is long.” She released my elbow, but as I made to turn, her hand fastened on my shoulder. I gave an involuntary yelp, part pain, part fright; it was exactly the spot Cillian had most favored for gripping while he shook me. I was seized by a sudden mad conviction that she was about to push me over the parapet wall.

“Oh, did I hurt you?” Muirne’s grip slackened.“Or did you think you might fall? It’s a long way down, isn’t it? Best step back from the edge.”

I turned and breathed again.What had got into me? She’d think I was a bundle of nerves. “Could we go down and look at the clothing now?”

“Of course, Caitrin.”

The two chests in the tower room were full of women’s garments: gowns, tunics, shoes, head-cloths, under-shifts. Muirne crouched to lift out one item after another and spread them on the floor around her. Her expression was bland, her hands careful.

I knelt to examine these unexpected riches, my attention drawn by a bundle in the hue of wood violets. Unrolled, it proved to be a gown of soft wool that looked as if it might fit me quite well. There was a long over-tunic in a lighter shade that seemed to belong with it. I knew the outfit would look well with my rosy coloring and dark hair. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I heard Ita saying: It’s a pity you take after your mother.That mouth, that complexion, that figure, they’re sure to get you into trouble. With a sigh, I set the garments down.

“These things are lovely,” I said. “But they seem too fine for me to use.” Some of these items were very old; here and there the cloth had worn perilously thin. Like the documents in the library, these garments had not much life left in them.

“This would be suitable.” Muirne held up a severe gown of dull dark gray, the kind of thing a housekeeper might wear.

“It certainly wouldn’t show the dirt,” I observed. “But even the most creative seamstress could not make that fit me.” I could see at a glance that the garment had been made for someone tall and slender. “I wonder if I might salvage some of these other things.They are going to rags, but there are enough good pieces to make up into a useful gown or two. Someone would have to lend me a needle and thread.”

Muirne made no response.

I tried again.“Do I need to ask Lord Anluan’s permission before I take anything?”

“No,” she said, sounding suddenly frosty. “My permission is adequate.”

“Of course—I’m sorry—forgive me, my lady. I’m a newcomer to the house and I don’t quite understand how things are done here.”

“Take what you need; nobody wants these old things,” Muirne said abruptly.

“Th-thank you,” I stammered.

“There’s no need to thank me,” she said, getting up and moving to the door.“You know I don’t like your being here. I made that clear the day you arrived. I suppose we must make the best of things.”

I stared at her. The sudden hostility had come from nowhere, and I wondered for a moment if I had misheard. “I don’t know why you would disapprove,” I said carefully.“Anluan has a job to be done, and I’m qualified to do it. I mean no harm to anyone. He wants me here.”

“He should not have employed you,” Muirne said. “Your presence wearies and disturbs him.This work on the documents is a misguided venture. He made an error of judgment.”

It seemed important to speak out on this particular point, even if she snapped my head off. “Muirne,” I said carefully, rising to my feet so I could look her in the eye, “I realize there are still aspects of the household and the Tor that I don’t fully understand. But one thing is plain to me. Anluan is a grown man. It’s appropriate for a man to make his own decisions. He’s entitled to hire a scribe to translate his documents if he wants to. He’s the chieftain of Whistling Tor, not a helpless child.”