Belladonna

Chapter Six

Merrill watched the shoreline as the sailors worked to bring the ship within the shelter of Darling’s Cove. An odd name for such a practical-minded village of people, but it was said that the man who first settled there adored his beautiful wife. Fearful that water demons would become enamored with her and try to lure her too far into the water whenever she walked along the beach, he never called her by name when they were near the sea, only darling. Always darling.

But it was his darling who, it was said, had an unusual connection to the land and had created the secret place Merrill hoped would have what they needed.

“It’s not too late,” Shaela said, coming to stand beside Merrill. “We can still turn back, find another way to do this.”

“We can’t turn back,” Merrill replied. “And it is too late—was already too late before we set foot on the ship. We’re running out of time. I can feel it. If we don’t find what we seek here…”

What happens then? she wondered. Nothing? Everything? Are we set free by our failure, or are we doomed because we failed to find the answer that would have saved us? And how am I supposed to know the difference?

“I’ll be glad to get off the water,” Shaela said. “The further south we’ve come, the more uneasy I feel.”

“I know,” Merrill whispered. “I feel it too. Like something knows we’re out here.” Like there’s a stain of evil on the water. It’s not here, not yet, but it’s getting closer. Whenever I enter that still place where the Light within me dwells, all I have to do is think about the sea, and the Light is diminished. Surely that’s a warning.

“Getting into port this early in the morning, we’ll have the whole day,” Shaela said. “If the girl can provide us with what we need quickly enough, we can be sailing home with the evening tide.” She slanted a glance at Merrill. “Unless you want to stay overnight.”

“We won’t be welcomed as guests,” Merrill snapped, lashing out in response to the pain held in that truth.

“No,” Shaela said quietly, “we won’t. We’re going to hurt both of them by coming here.” She lifted Merrill’s left wrist. “Maybe you should have offered the bracelet as a gift instead of leaving it on a rock for a raven to snatch and take back to its nest.”

“It felt like the right thing to do,” Merrill said, as troubled now by the impulse to leave the bracelet as an offering to…something…as she had been at the time she’d done it. But it wouldn’t have been an appropriate gift since Brighid had given it to her in the first place. Had Shaela forgotten that? Or did she not realize what the return of a heart-friend’s gift meant, that it was a permanent severing of a friendship?

She turned away from Shaela, wishing the task was behind them instead of something yet to be faced.

The ship anchored within easy distance of the cove’s southern arm. The northern arm had wharves for merchant ships and fishing vessels; the southern arm grudgingly accommodated visitors. Piers jutted out from the land in such a way that rowed boats sent out from larger ships could discharge their passengers, but the stairs that connected the piers to the land above made use of what nature had provided, and the uneven lengths and heights of the steps were a punishment for anyone with a weak leg.

Shaela said nothing as they climbed the stairs, but it was clear her bad leg wouldn’t hold up to the strain if they had to scramble around a hillside with the girl.

Maybe I could suggest she remain behind with Brighid, Merrill thought, slipping an arm companionably through Shaela’s—an unspoken apology for being snappish earlier and unobtrusive support as they made their way to the stables where a horse and buggy could be rented for the day.

She hadn’t told the ship’s captain the reason for this visit to Raven’s Hill—or who she was visiting—but any man who sailed out of Atwater knew about Brighid—and why she no longer lived on the White Isle. So Merrill wasn’t surprised when the men who had accompanied them as far as the stable didn’t offer to go farther.

After paying the stable fee, Merrill climbed into the buggy, collected the reins, and made sure Shaela was comfortably settled before giving the horse the command to move forward. The cottage was no more than a mile outside the village proper, nestled at the bottom of the hill. It was in the center of a modest acreage that could have provided the family with a respectable living if there had been more than a girl and a woman to work the land.

She had visited twice before—once shortly after Brighid had settled into the cottage and again three years ago, when Brighid, on behalf of her niece, had requested that a Lady of Light come to Raven’s Hill to test the girl.

It had become clear in that brief meeting that becoming a Lady of Light and living on the White Isle was Caitlin Marie’s all-consuming dream and ambition. And it was just as painfully clear that something lived inside the girl that was at odds with that dream and ambition. Something that would not be welcome on the White Isle.

The girl was as tainted as her brother. Some things came through the bloodlines and never could be washed away.

Guardian of Light, cleanse my thoughts of such unkindness. The children cannot be blamed for their nature, and they have never used it for harm. But…I would not want one of their kind on the White Isle.

“We’re here,” Shaela said when the cottage came into sight.

As the horse’s pace brought them closer and closer to success or failure, Merrill thought about those first two visits. Then, the hill looming behind the cottage had struck her as menacing, as if an ill-spoken word was all that was needed to bring the hillside down on the people living in its shadow. Now that same hill struck her as protective, as if it guarded something precious.

Which impression was closer to the truth? Or had the strain of the journey turned her mind to fanciful imaginings?

When they reached the cottage, Shaela climbed down and attached a lead to the horse’s bridle, tying the other end to the hitching post. As Merrill secured the reins and set the brake, she caught the movement of a curtain falling back into place. A moment later, the cottage door opened, and Brighid, looking older and more careworn than Merrill had expected, stepped outside to greet them.

“To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?” Brighid asked with cold politeness.

You know why we’ve come. Merrill searched Brighid’s face but found no sign of welcome. And that sharpened her sadness over the necessity of coming here. They had been friends once, sisters in the joyous work of nurturing the Light. Now two children, especially the girl, stood between them.

“We need your help,” Merrill said. The girl suddenly appeared in the doorway, her blue eyes bright with hope when she caught sight of them. No, not a girl anymore. Eighteen now, wasn’t she? A woman come into her power. Whatever it might be.

Pretending she didn’t see the hope, she kept her eyes fixed on Brighid. “We need Caitlin’s help.”

“For what?” Brighid asked warily.

So. Brighid was going to hold a grudge, wasn’t going to bend even now.

“There are two plants we need for a…prayer…circle. They do not grow on the White Isle. We thought Caitlin, with her skills, could acquire them for us.”

Hope burned away in Caitlin’s eyes, replaced by bitterness. “So the Ladies of Light require the help of a sorceress.”

“That is not a word to be bandied about,” Shaela said sharply.

“Maybe not,” Caitlin replied just as sharply, “but I want to hear her say it. She’s so good at speaking the truth, let her speak it now.”

“I have a name,” Merrill said.

Brighid raised a hand, silencing Caitlin before the girl could reply. “What do you want?”

We have no time for a battle of wills. Can’t you feel it, Brighid? Evil is already drifting among us.

“Heart’s hope—and belladonna,” Merrill replied.

The small jerk of Brighid’s body gave Merrill hope, but Caitlin’s expression showed no sign of yielding.

“Those plants don’t grow around here,” Caitlin said, as if that ended all possibility.

“But there is a place nearby where unusual plants grow,” Merrill insisted. “I could accompany you and help—”

“You aren’t welcome there.”

“Caitlin Marie!” Brighid turned on her niece. “I understand your disappointments and why a wounded heart makes for a bitter tongue, but that is no reason to forget your manners.”

“So they should get whatever they want from me just for the asking?”

Girl and aunt stared at each other, and Merrill had the uneasy feeling they were no longer talking about plants.

Then Brighid sighed and rested a hand against Caitlin’s cheek. “No,” she said. “You should get the Ladies what they need because I’m asking. And because this is more important than any one person.”

Caitlin hesitated, then bobbed her head once in agreement. “For you, then.” She disappeared into the cottage. A few moments later, they all heard the back door slam.

“We came at a difficult time,” Merrill said soothingly, wondering if she and Shaela were going to stand outside for however long it took Caitlin to retrieve the plants, or if Brighid would stand by her own words and remember her manners.

“Manure has its uses, Merrill, but it never smells sweet,” Brighid replied tartly. “Don’t spread it here.”

So much for stepping around the point of contention that had bruised their friendship. Not broken it, though. She wouldn’t believe it was truly broken. Someday Brighid would be free to come back to the White Isle…and Lighthaven. “The girl doesn’t belong on the White Isle. I stand by the decision I made three years ago. She isn’t one of us, Brighid. She never will be.”

Brighid leaned against the door frame. “A young man from the village called last week. Asked Caitlin to go walking in the moonlight—the first who has ever done that since she’s considered ‘strange.’ He made her an offer.”

“Oh.” Merrill smiled. A wounded heart and an offer? Yes, that could explain the sharpness of Caitlin’s temper. “Well, young women are often afflicted with nerves and quarrel with their lover before the wed—”

“He made her the kind of offer no woman with pride or heart would accept.”

“Ah.” Merrill’s face heated with embarrassment, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Shaela turn away, head down, clearly uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation.

“Your presence here today is salt on a fresh wound,” Brighid said, her voice sad and quiet. “You come asking for favors from one you turned away and offer nothing in return.”

“There’s nothing I can offer. And you know why we’ve come.”

“Yes, I know why. As I said when I answered your letter, I, too, heard the voice in a dream. The words are a riddle, and I have found no answer.” Brighid hesitated. “But I think the answer is more than an answer for whoever discovers the meaning of the riddle.”

Shaela looked up, alert. “What do you think it is meant to be?”

“A door.”

Reaching the spot on the hillside that she had decided years ago was the end of the path, despite the path continuing on up and over the hill, Caitlin closed her eyes and sent out that silent call: I’m here.

When she opened her eyes, the path ended at the walled garden that branded her a sorceress and was her only comfort and friend—the walled garden that didn’t exist for anyone except her.

Slipping through the rusty gate that never closed properly, she hugged the two pots she’d brought with her and slowly examined the beds. She didn’t know what belladonna looked like, but she was certain she’d know the feel of it.

And there it was, tucked in the corner of the garden that never managed to grow anything well. Beside it was a heart’s hope plant she knew hadn’t been there a few days ago.

Kneeling in front of the plants, she put the pots aside, then brushed her fingers over the plants’ leaves.

Something here. Something strange.

Her fingers brushed leaves, but she had the sensation of a warm hand clasping hers. An accepting hand.

She understands me.

The thought made no sense. Neither was the certainty that she had almost managed to touch someone who wasn’t there.

She sat back on her heels and studied the plants. Aunt Brighid had been acting odd, uneasy. As if she’d had a premonition of bad news and was expecting it to be confirmed every time someone came to the door.

Well, bad news did come knocking, didn’t it?

“Prayer circle,” Caitlin muttered as she pulled a trowel out of her skirt pocket and carefully dug up the heart’s hope. “I’ll bet it’s going to be an interesting prayer circle.”

An important one, anyway, she thought as she settled the heart’s hope into one of the pots. Merrill wouldn’t have come to Raven’s Hill unless it was important. She didn’t think Aunt Brighid had expected Merrill to show up, but Brighid had understood why Merrill was asking for these particular plants.

Caitlin transplanted the belladonna—and shivered as if she’d suddenly stepped into a deep, cold shadow.

Something important. And I’m part of it.

Following impulse, she loosened her braid of waist-length brown hair. She pulled out two hairs, wrapped one around the base of each stem at the dirt line, then added a little more dirt to hide what she had done.

She wasn’t welcome at precious Lighthaven, but she would be part of whatever ceremony the Ladies of Light performed with the plants.

Humming a folk tune that was currently popular in one of her landscapes, Glorianna headed for her walled garden, a basket of gardening tools in one hand and a watering can in the other. When she and her mother, Nadia, had ganged up on her brother Lee to insist that he take one day out of each seven-day for rest and renewal, she hadn’t expected him to surrender so quickly—and she hadn’t expected the two of them to then turn on her and make the same demand! But, like Lee, she had been working too hard, pushing too hard. That had been understandable when the threat of the Eater of the World finding a way into her landscapes had been so immediate. After all, It had found Its way into two of her dark landscapes. But there had been no sign of It for weeks, and while the danger to Ephemera hadn’t lessened, there was less she or Lee could do until they found some sign of where It had gone.

So today was for pleasure and, for her, that pleasure meant tending the earth, not as a Landscaper who was always vigilantly aware of the balance of Light and Dark currents that flowed through her landscapes but as a woman performing the simple chore of looking after her plants and cleaning out the weeds.

Even here on her small island, the autumn day was unseasonably—and delightfully—warm, so she wore an old pair of trousers she had cut off just below the knees and one of Lee’s old cotton shirts—with the sleeves cut short—that her mother would have thrown in the rag basket if Glorianna hadn’t snuck it out of the family home after deciding it was perfect for warm-weather gardening. Her shoes were worn at the heels and so broken-down that her striped sock poked up through a hole in the toe, and her black hair was bundled up under a battered straw hat whose ribbons fluttered in the light breeze. Nadia called it her urchin attire, but the garden—and Ephemera itself—didn’t care if she was fashionably dressed and looked pretty.

No one really cared how she dressed or if she ever looked pretty.

If I ever fall in love, she’d told Lee once, it will be with a man who can see me dressed like this and still think I look beautiful.

Of course, the man would have to overlook the fact that she was a rogue Landscaper and was feared and reviled by all the other Landscapers who protected their world.

“If you want romance, my girl, read a book,” she muttered as she unlatched the gate and gave it a bump with her hip to swing it open enough to slip inside. “That’s the only place you’ll find a man with enough heart to stand by someone who can control Ephemera like you do.” Like no other Landscaper, not even her mother, could do.

Then she froze, all thoughts of a pleasant day in the garden and imagined romance forgotten, as the shock of what brushed against her senses caused her to drop the watering can and basket.

“Guardians and Guides,” she whispered.

A dissonance in her garden. Something here that didn’t belong. Something that didn’t resonate with her.

She plucked the short-handled hoe and tines from the basket, wanting something she could use as a weapon. A quick look around convinced her there was nothing out of order in the beds closest to her, so she closed her eyes and steadied her breathing. Her garden covered almost two acres of land, but what it represented was the safety and well-being of thousands of people who lived in the landscapes in her care. She had to find the dissonance and weed out the source before it contaminated everything.

Despite her vigilance, had the Eater of the World found an anchor point in one of her landscapes that connected with this garden? Had It burrowed in somewhere like a dark, malevolent weed, waiting until she got close enough before unleashing one of its nightmarish creatures in hope of destroying her?

Then she felt Ephemera stirring, trying to align itself to the emotions and wishes churning inside her. The world trusted her as it had trusted few others since the time of the first Landscapers, who had been known as Guides of the Heart. It would manifest her emotions, thinking that was what she wanted—even if that meant creating an access point through which the Eater of the World could enter.

She had to regain control of herself. She had to think instead of feel. She had to think for both of them, because that was her purpose; that was why the world had shaped her kind in the first place.

Closing her eyes, she focused on the dissonance, and as the first shock that anything could have invaded her garden wore off, she caught the faintest hint of anxiety—rather like a puppy who had caught a small creature and brought it home but wasn’t receiving the expected praise.

Ephemera had done this? Why?

She opened her eyes and strode to that unsettling spot. The placement of the thing, tucked in an empty piece of the garden that connected with Sanctuary, sent a new jolt of uneasiness rushing through her, but she crouched down to study this unasked for “gift.”

This particular spot had been filled with nothing but clover to protect the rich soil. Now, in the center of that clover, was a stone shaped like a natural basin shallow enough to provide birds with a place to drink and bathe. In the basin, just beneath the water, was a silver cuff bracelet with an intricate design of knots that flowed one to the next.

She reached out, resting her hand on the stone so her fingertips dipped into the water.

Turmoil. Ambivalence. Need and denial. Powerful emotions that tugged at her and also pushed her away.

This stone didn’t come from a place of darkness but a Place of Light. She could feel the Light’s currents singing in the stone and the water. There was some comfort in that, but it didn’t explain why Ephemera had plunked down an access point to an unknown landscape that was connected to who knew where.

Focus, Glorianna. This wasn’t idly done.

Someone had cried out with a heart wish strong enough to produce this response from the world, but bringing this stone here to her was as far as Ephemera could take that heart wish.

At another time, she would have used that access point to cross over to the unknown landscape. Standing in that place would have given her a better feel for what that part of Ephemera needed. Except…

This Place of Light resonated with her and yet it didn’t. It was tangled up somehow, and the reason for that was outside her experience.

The currents of power that flowed through Ephemera circled around her, anxious, eager.

Sighing, Glorianna rose. “All right. It can stay.” For now. “Let’s see if we can get through the rest of the day without any more excitement, all right?”

The currents of power drifted away from her, making her think, again, of a puppy who had already done the very thing she just told it not to do. Not a good sign.

So she wasn’t surprised when she saw Lee hurrying up to the garden’s gate.

“This is supposed to be your rest day,” she called as she hurried to meet him.

“I know. Yours too.”

He looked pale and troubled—and his suppressed anger was strong enough to produce a shimmer in the island’s Dark currents.

“What’s wrong?” Glorianna asked. “Is everything all right at home?”

“It’s fine. Home is fine.” Lee raked a hand through his hair.

“Lee.”

“A handful of Landscapers and three Bridges have found their way to Sanctuary. They’re…distraught…and a bit too quick to start casting blame when—”

She raised a hand, silencing him. Not a surprise that the others would find a way to blame her for the Eater of the World’s escape and the destruction of the Landscapers’ School. No, not a surprise. But it still hurt that any of them thought her capable of such a heinous act.

“If their landscapes have been compromised…”

“I know, Glorianna. I know.” Lee looked away. “We need to find out how they got to Sanctuary: what bridges were created and where.”

“We may have to shut them out of Sanctuary in order to protect the Places of Light.”

“I know that, too. But Yoshani thinks it’s best to let them rest for a day, let their emotions settle a bit. Then he thinks you should talk to them.”

Yoshani was a holy man who came from a Place of Light in a distant landscape. She had stumbled into that landscape when she was fifteen, had used the access point Ephemera had created and crossed over to that distant place. That choice had saved her from the Dark Guides and prevented them from walling her up inside her garden at the school. After she brought the Places of Light together and formed Sanctuary, Yoshani began dividing his time between his own community of Light and the part of Sanctuary that was more accessible to visitors. People felt easy around him, so he had become an informal listener and counselor to the weary hearts that reached Sanctuary.

He was one of the few people she trusted without reservation. But…

“They don’t want to talk to me.”

Lee looked at her, his temper shining in his green eyes. “They don’t have a choice, Belladonna. The leaders of the Places of Light were very clear about that. All the leaders.”

You’re not without friends, Glorianna thought. And you’re not without family. Those are blessings you need to hold in your heart and remember.

“Are you going back to the guesthouse in Sanctuary?” Glorianna asked.

“I’d rather not.”

She figured as much and would welcome his company, but she was worried about the depth of his anger and bitterness. So the best thing for both of them was to fall back on a simple ploy that had never failed her: treat him like the younger brother he was. “Did you bring something to eat? The last time you were here, you cleaned out the pantry and didn’t bother to tell me.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes. “Yes, I brought something to eat. And I did not clean out the pantry, just that last bit of cake Mother had made—which was stale, by the way, since you’d left it so long, so that doesn’t count.”

“Does too.”

“Does not.”

“Does too.”

“Does—” Lee glared at her.

“Do either of us have to cook this food you brought?”

“We’ll have to heat it up and slice the bread and cheese. Even I can manage that, Glorianna.”

Satisfied that he was now focused on being an annoyed sibling, she smiled sweetly. “In that case, you can stay. Want to make yourself useful and help me weed?”

“Not a chance.” He gave her the look that always made her want to smack him. “It’s my rest day. Remember?”