A familiar, gruff voice boomed over the crowd.
“People of Creagairde, the next trial will be held tonight. So come at dusk to see more witches hang!” This received a thunderous cheer.
Kaetha dug her nails into her palms as the river swept them away. Soon the voices from the town grew distant so that they might have been the sounds of children playing in the square.
TWENTY SIX
Against the Flow
Kaetha helped a woman lift her crate of hens off the boat and onto the docks at Nuckelavee. The woman might have been about to thank her when her eyes rested on Kaetha’s face. She snatched the crate and left without a word.
“I’m just going into the town,” said Mairi. “I’ll be back soon.”
“What do you want in the town?” said Donnan.
“If I’m successful, I’ll tell you.”
“Well, don’t be long,” he said. “A southbound boat might come by any time.” He sat beside Kaetha. “What’s on her mind, d’ya reckon?”
“Half the time, I haven’t a clue,” said Kaetha, staring into the water.
“And, what’s on your mind?” ventured Donnan.
She let Tam out of her pack and he went from mouse to cat and sat beside her. She pulled at the fraying ends of her cuffs. “All the magic I’ve seen and felt – all this power – and what good is it? There’s always someone more powerful, someone who’ll use their power to hurt or control others.” Tam’s tail twitched. “Indulf Macomrag, Murdo, the villagers of Doocot, Meraud, Thane McDonn and his bloodthirsty mob. They think they can do what they want with human life,” she clenched her hands into fists. “And they do.”
“And you saved Catrin, Roddie and Meg.” He threw a stone into the river. “Together we uncovered Meraud’s deceit.”
“You did. And not before I hurt you and Mairi.”
“It wasn’t you, it—”
“It was some part of me. Some part that wanted to feel important because of my magic. To feel special instead of despised.”
“I think you’re special.” There was something tentative, almost vulnerable in the way he said those words. His hand rested on the ground close to hers.
She folded her arms. “I’m no more special than Margaret or Asrid. They’ll be shut in miserable cell, bruised, humiliated, waiting for a trial before a mob jury that gorges on death.”
“What could we have done?”
“Nothing.” She flung a stone into the river. “There’s nothing we can do.”
They sat in silence until they spotted a boat.
“I’ll look for Mairi,” said Donnan.
A group gathered further down the dock and Kaetha turned from them, holding her hood in place against the wind. Tam leapt to his paws, tail up in the air, and Kaetha gasped as someone grasped her shoulder. But, looking up, she saw that it was only Mairi.
“Come,” said Mairi, leading her out of sight around the corner of a building.
“What are you doing?”
“I didn’t like the way that chicken woman looked at you. Here,” she said, tilting Kaetha’s chin up. She opened a little pot and dabbed something cold on her cheek.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a paste. Your cut is healing well but the scab is dark. It stands out. This should help to hide it. There,” she said with a smile. “Not bad at all.”
“What is it?” asked Kaetha, picking up the pot and sniffing the pale, beige-tinged mixture. “And where did you get it?”
“Never you mind.”
The boat pulled up by the dock and Kaetha rushed over to the boatwoman. “Are you going downriver?”
“Aye,” she said, pulling the mooring rope tight. A child sat at the back, her hand steady on the rudder. “But we’re here for the witches.”
“What?” Kaetha instinctively turned her face.
“You heard me,” said the boatwoman. The taut rope and creaking deck put Kaetha to mind of the gallows. “You’re not one of these ones who insists on stringing them up, are you? Look, it’s the king’s order, alright? They get the chance to choose exile now, and most will pay a pretty coin for it too – which is all the better for me. If you don’t believe me, you can take it up with Laird Ewart for all I care.”
“King’s order?”
“It’s true,” said Donnan, panting as he reached them, holding a sheet of parchment, covered in swirly handwriting. “I may not be able to read it all but I overheard them talking about what it said.”
“Who?”
Donnan’s cheeks bloomed red. “I saw Mairi go into a house and I followed her. But she must have been taken to another room. And I heard the women speak of it. They talked about one of them who had been imprisoned for witchcraft. Falsely accused, they said.”
“That’s right, handsome,” said a woman whose lips and cheeks were reddened with cochineal, her garments cut low, showing plenty of tanned flesh.
Kaetha gaped at Donnan, then at Mairi.
“It was the only place I could think of that would have such paint for the skin,” whispered Mairi. “I didn’t know he’d follow me in.”
“It was good thinking,” said Kaetha as she took the parchment from Donnan and read aloud. “I, King Svelrik, state this decree that any persons marked above the breath on suspicion of witchcraft or convicted of this crime, may enjoy a brief period of the king’s grace. It is our hope that this will quell the violent uprisings against our administers of justice. Should such individuals accept clemency, they will be released from sentences of bodily punishment and, instead, shall be exiled from the kingdom. After boarding one of the king’s vessels harboured at Longmachlag Bay, exiles will set sail for Hildervald upon the autumnal equinox. After these ships depart, the offer of exile will no longer be given. This decree upholds our kingdom’s intolerance of witchcraft whilst seeking to secure peace
