“Come, child,” the old woman says. “Tap your cane, that I mightfollow the sound and find you.”
Tap my cane? I will do no such thing. I do not wish to meetthis strange, bossy female. Yet my hand shakes when I resist, and fear ripplesalong my spine. I have no choice but to obey and strike the gravel. How can itbe? Has she the power of Compulsion? That’s forbidden magic. Evil.
Snap! A branch breaks at the forest’s edge. The woman is nowcrossing our estate, walking toward the maze. She moves far too fast for an oldperson, faster than any human should.
Get inside the conservatory, my mind whispers. Flee.
I run along the curving path, cane swinging wildly, countingthe turns in my head. But my feet grow heavy and slow, like they are caught ina vat of molasses. More dark power. I stick my cane into the earth and pullmyself forward, only to slide back an inch or two. Forward, back. Forward,back. I must look as if I’m playing tug-o-war with my own body.
“Stop!” the stranger calls, reaching the entrance of the maze.“I mean you no harm.”
Her cold magic disappears, and I sag against my cane, free ofCompulsion at last.
The conservatory is directly ahead. Thirteen steps away. Heartsputtering, I run the distance to the copper and glass structure. The airinside is warm and smells of lilies. I shut the door, lock it, and shrink backagainst the wall.
My unwanted guest turns from the maze entrance. I hear herbacktrack, walking along the outside of the hedge wall. Until she is directlyacross from the conservatory as the crow flies.
“I could reach you now if I wanted,” the old voice whispers.“But I’ll be patient and wait. Perhaps you’re not ready to meet me.”
Groping my way to the center of the hot house, I knock a plantoff its pedestal, and the pot shatters on the floor. Sound waves tear throughmy ears, causing me to double over in pain.
“I’m Mary Arden,” the woman says, as though she’s calming afrightened child. “Just old Mary.”
I lift my hand, perplexed. How odd. It seems I’ve taken thelucky pebbles out of my pocket without realizing it. I jingle them together andthink of Mary Arden. Anyone who lives in Stonehenge knows of her. Some sayshe’s a witch, a thief, a fortune-teller. A recluse who consumes absinthe inalarming quantities and hides deep in the wilderness—talking to bears, dancingunder the stars.
Or so the fables go.
“It’s an awful burden, being what we are,” she murmurs. “The Sightcan bring such pain.”
Wait a moment. This person is a Visionary? Mad Mary of theforest?
Her voice turns hypnotic, intimate. “Life’s never been fair forus, has it? Our gift is really no gift at all.”
I’m being played like a violin at the music hall, but I cannothelp listening. Is the woman friend or foe? Could she actually be what sheclaims? It is possible, I suppose.
Among the descendants of the goddess Veritas, the Sight jumpsbetween members of our vast family tree, leaving the unchosen completelyunaware of their lineage. The Lady gives her name to a select number of femalesin every era. They become the new Veritas, serving the people of theirjurisdiction until death. Is Mary one of us?
Her crackling voice no longer floats in the air but lodges deepwithin my psyche, until I am unsure where her thoughts end and mine begin. Come,sweet child. We must help each other. We have a common enemy.
I squeeze the pebbles until my palm hurts. I do not wish tochannel thoughts with Mary Arden, but I interrupt the fey woman’s tidings,stifling her words with my own. I have done nothing wrong. Who is thisenemy?
Archimendax…
The Great Liar? Impossible. He disappeared after the fall ofRome.
Mary paces outside the maze, skirts snapping in the wind.Not Archimendax himself, Hester. His scion. He’s threatened by you and covetsyour talent.
What is there to covet? My power is small, limited.
She scoffs at this. Are you so ignorant, girl? Yourabilities are not limited. Who told you that?
I just presumed.
You presumed wrong then. They evolve as you do.
I cannot help doubting her. Along with the unwashed skin andfilthy clothes, Mary Arden stinks of ulterior motives. How will my giftschange?
Only time will tell. Maturity enhances them. And suffering.It shows the universe that we endure, that we’re capable of bearing more.
In that case, I prefer to stay as I am.
Oh, child, you are naïve. Destiny is often thrust upon us. MaryArden sighs and moves closer to the hedge. You must listen now, Hester. Ourenemy uses others to accomplish his evil work. Weak, impressionable souls wholack the will to resist. You’ll hear it in their voices if you listen hardenough.
Mary Arden pauses briefly and then severs our psychogenicconnection.
4
Coniunctis viribus.
With united powers.
Whyhas she withdrawn? I lift my face, sensing movement and vibration within themaze. Footsteps. The tread is even and controlled, barely shifting the gravelon the path. Distribution of weight and length of stride suggest this is amale. He’s nearing the center of the maze, still thirty feet from theconservatory.
Now twenty-seven. Twenty-one. Sixteen…
Mary Arden turns toward the forest as I silently count. Shestomps her foot and mutters an oath against time, luck, and men in general. Rathertimid for an alleged witch and former Visionary. Why not cast a spell upon thefellow? Why does she fear him?
The old woman reconnects with me briefly. Consider mymessage, Hester. We’ll meet again.
Light on her feet, Mary Arden leaves her spot outside the mazeand hurries into the forest. The air immediately grows warmer in theconservatory and tentative bird song erupts outside, squirrels begin to chatter.Hushed during Mary’s visit, the animal kingdom returns to life all at once. Icurl in on myself, wishing that I felt safe in my glass fortress. What to makeof all this? I thought Mary was a myth until today. Is she sane? Trustworthy?
Gravel crunches nearby, and I cock my head toward the sound. Myheartbeat quickens, growing light and fast when the door to the conservatoryrattles. I step away
