Chapter Thirty-One

“You’ve been taught to look at the world in a specific way,” Mother Lembu said, putting her mug to one side. “I’ll show you a different way of looking at it.”

Isabella took a sip of her drink. It tasted of blackberries. Alcoholic? She tested it with a spell, but the results were inconclusive. Part of her knew she should be careful, yet her instincts were insisting that she was in no real danger. But Mother Lembu clearly had power, even if it wasn’t a power Isabella understood. She forced herself to listen, hoping for answers that actually made sense. Perhaps, just perhaps, she was on the verge of solving the mystery.

“The world has changed in the last five years,” Mother Lembu said. “You do understand that, don’t you?”

“I’ve seen signs of change,” Isabella said, neutrally. “What is happening?”

“The rules are changing too,” Mother Lembu said, dryly. “You need to put aside your preconceptions and listen.”

She rose and walked around the workbench, stopping in front of the collection of herbs and bark. “Dandelion. Nettles. Elm Bark. All smashed up” – she carried the collection over to the bench – “and boiled in water. What does that tell you?”

Isabella frowned. It wasn’t any alchemical concoction she recognised. Indeed, all of the listed ingredients were alchemically inert. A magician might be able to infuse some magic into the brew, but it wouldn’t do very much. Perhaps an energy potion? Or a simple way to store magic for later use?

“It isn’t a potion recipe,” she said, finally. “A base liquid?”

Mother Lembu pointed a finger at her. “You’re still thinking like a sorcerer,” she said. “You need to think like a wise woman.”

Isabella snorted. “No one has ever considered me wise.”

“You’re young,” Mother Lembu said. “An aged woman is wise.”

Perhaps here, Isabella thought.

Her lips twitched. She’d met a number of elderly women in the Golden City who’d been unable to comprehend that their day was long gone. They’d controlled High Society with a ruthlessness that daunted even the Grand Sorcerer, crushing any younger upstarts who dared to challenge their rules. It had meant social death to go against them, Isabella recalled. She would probably have been driven out if her father hadn’t been so powerful. The silly biddies had long since forgotten what was important.

But that might not be true of a wise woman in a forest village, where there was no way to hide from reality. Someone who survived long enough to have grandchildren – perhaps even great-grandchildren – in a world where men and women rarely lived past fifty could reasonably be assumed to know a thing or two. Mother Lembu’s age would give her words credence, particularly as she was too old to marry or bear children. Although ... Isabella reminded herself, once again, that she had no idea how old Mother Lembu actually was. She might well be a great deal younger than she looked.

“You think in terms of commanding the world,” Mother Lembu said. “But if you went to the lord’s manor and commanded him, what do you think it would get you?”

Isabella shivered. Her father had a fishpond he’d filled with people who’d annoyed him, once upon a time. A peasant who tried to command a lord on the Summer Isle would be lucky if he was merely beaten to within an inch of his life. One approached the powerful with politeness and tact, knowing that the courtesy would not be returned. It seemed that one of the rules that wasn’t going to change was the assertion that shit always rolled downhill.

“Nothing good,” she said, finally. “What are you doing instead?”

“Making an offering,” Mother Lembu said. She started to smash the plants together, crushing them in a pestle. “Showing due respect to the powers that be.”

“I see,” Isabella said, slowly. It reminded her of what Emetine had said, after she’d tried to kill Reginald. “And this would be female magic?”

“Of a sort, although there’s no reason men can’t use it,” Mother Lembu said. “It’s more of a way to bargain with the world, rather than forcing it to obey.”

Isabella frowned. “And if you’re bargaining with the world,” she said, “what are you offering it?”

“It depends,” Mother Lembu said. She finished grinding the ingredients and reached for a pot. “Respect, at times.”

She glanced at Isabella and winked. “Think of it as a bribe, if you like,” she said. “Or simply a way of doing things. You wouldn’t try to get across a ravine by jumping off the cliff, would you? Or play cards on a chessboard?”

“I suppose not,” Isabella said. “But why are the rules changing?”

Mother Lembu hung the pot over the fire, then reached for a long iron spoon. “The Empire is gone,” she said. “And now there is no one hunting those who practice the old ways.”

Isabella felt cold. The Empire had endured for over a thousand years, perhaps longer. She’d always been told that history records dating back more than five hundred years or so simply weren’t reliable, that there was no way to be entirely sure what had happened so long ago. A series of wars – and population relocations – had obliterated whatever traces remained of the pre-empire world, save for a handful of forbidden zones, which the Inquisitors had prevented anyone from visiting until recently. Now ...

She took a breath. “How old?”

“Thousands of years old,” Mother Lembu said, seriously. “And, over those years, a handful of the old folk survived to wait for their time to come again.”

Isabella leaned forward. “And now?”

“And now word is spreading,” Mother Lembu said. “The rules are changing. Those girls you saw are learning to harness their power. Some will do good, some will do evil ... some will lose themselves completely, surrendering to the forces they unleashed. And others will be so terrified of the changes that they will bend the knee to anyone who offers protection.”

She looked up. “Your young man is fighting the wrong battle,” she added. “And he doesn’t see the war.”

“The prince isn’t my young man,” Isabella said, hotly.

“You like him,” Mother Lembu said. “Is there something wrong with liking him?”

Isabella felt her cheeks heat. “Yeah,” she said, reluctantly. She wasn’t sure where the sudden change in topic had come from. “I ... I cannot afford to let myself like him.”

“You do like him,” Mother Lembu said. “Why don’t you want to admit it?”

Isabella gritted her teeth. Reginald was attractive. And smart. And better than most of the princes and sorcerers she’d met in her life. He wasn’t scared of her, nor did he treat her as a freak. Honesty compelled her to admit she could do a great deal worse. But ...

“My comrades would think less of me if I was openly feminine,” she said, finally. It was true, unfortunately. She could no more court the prince – or be courted by him – than she could wear a dress on a battlefield. She couldn’t afford to let them see her as a woman first, rather than a swordswoman and sorceress. “Does that answer your question?”

“Perhaps it answers one of yours,” Mother Lembu said. “You’re hiding your true nature.”

Isabella felt a hot flash of anger. “Do you think I should walk around naked?”

“I think you should know yourself, first and foremost,” Mother Lembu said. She took the pot off the fire and poured the contents into a sieve, straining the liquid. “The rules are changing.”

“Into what?”

“You’ll see,” Mother Lembu said. “I’m not going to give you all the answers.”

Isabella felt her hand drop to her sword. “Then give me something I can use!”

“That is what I am going to do,” Mother Lembu said, patiently. Her voice hardened, suddenly. “And I strongly advise you not to draw your weapon in here.”

Isabella looked around. The light had dimmed. The shadows seemed to have grown darker, somehow. She could swear she could see things hiding within the darkness, teeth and claws and ... and ... she forced her hand to let go of the sword, feeling shivers running down her spine. Whatever protections surrounded the hut were incredibly dangerous. She doubted she’d survive if they lashed out at her.

“In temples, people worship false gods,” Mother Lembu said, very quietly. “And now, the real gods are coming back.”

Isabella stared. “False gods?”

“False gods,” Mother Lembu confirmed, curtly. She picked up the jar and held it in one hand. “Come. Let us go out into the night.”

“I don’t understand,” Isabella said, as Mother Lembu opened the door. “What gods?”

“A very long time ago, they were banished,” Mother Lembu said. She walked into the darkness. “And now they are returning, granting powers to those who embrace them ... who appeal to them.”

Isabella stared. “In exchange for what?”

Mother Lembu said nothing. Instead, she glanced down at Big Richard and then turned to peer into the darkened forest. There was no sign of anyone in the gloom, not even watchful animals or owls gliding through the night. But the sense of being watched was growing stronger by the second.

“I’m going to put some of this ointment on your eyes,” Mother Lembu said, holding up the jar. “Open them and stay still.”

Isabella hesitated. Cold logic told her that the ointment would do her no harm, but she wasn’t sure cold logic meant anything any longer. Mother Lembu let out a sigh and waved a hand at Isabella. She couldn’t move, no matter what she did. Her mind felt disconnected from her body. Mother Lembu dipped her fingers in the ointment, touched them to Isabella’s eyes and then stepped back, out of Isabella’s line of sight. A moment later, Isabella could move again.

“Look into the forest,” Mother Lembu ordered.

Isabella gritted her teeth, but did as she was told. Her eyes weren’t stinging. They were ... she wasn’t sure how to describe the sensation. It was as if they were slowly opening, even though they were open. Flashes of light darted through the trees, as if they’d always been there; things sat on branches, peering at her through unblinking eyes. She couldn’t make out the details – it was as if her eyes refused to see more than a blur – but they were there. Larger things moved silently through the trees, pulses of energy moved through the ground ... tendrils of ... something ... slid in directions beyond her comprehension. The forest was so much bigger than she’d realised.

She looked down at the hex sign and saw ... an impassable barrier. It was just a line of ashes on the ground, yet it was also a solid wall ... her head swam as she tried to comprehend what she was seeing. They couldn’t both be true, could they? But ... she thought she understood, just for a moment. There was nothing stopping a chess piece from making an illegal move, save for a shared understanding that doing so would ruin the game. The newcomers – whatever they were – followed rules that no human understood, yet.

The horseshoes keep them out, she thought. No wonder the villagers were being so wasteful. The horseshoes – the cold iron – was the only thing keeping their homes safe. And the Red Monks were trying to get rid of pure iron blades ...

Isabella turned, slightly. “The Red Monks,” she said. “What are they?”

“I can’t answer that question,” Mother Lembu said. “Not yet.”

“I need an answer,” Isabella said. She turned to look at the old woman. “I ...”

The world went white. Mother Lembu blazed with light, light so bright that it burned through Isabella’s eyelids even though she’d squeezed them closed. She could feel the light burning into her mind, slicing through her thoughts ...

“You made one mistake,” Mother Lembu said. Her voice echoed through the air. “And your time to recover is short.”

The light seemed to grow brighter, just for a second. And then it was gone. Isabella found herself on her knees, staring down at the muddy ground. She looked up, expecting to see the hut, but there was nothing. The hut was gone. Mother Lembu was gone. Big Richard was lying on the ground, groaning. And, in the distance, she could see the first glimmers of dawn breaking over the horizon.

She slumped, nearly landing in the mud before she caught herself. Dawn? It couldn’t be dawn. It had been midnight, only an hour or so ago. Her head spun as she tried to understand what she was seeing. She’d been in the hut, hadn’t she? If her eyes hadn’t been dripping with ointment, she would have wondered if she’d dreamt it all. The world no longer seemed to make sense.

The rules are different now, she thought, grimly. Mother Lembu had been ... what? It was hard to believe that the old woman was human, not after the light ... she rubbed her eyes, feeling the remnants of the ointment drying rapidly. Maybe, just maybe ...

She forced herself to stand upright. She needed time to sit down and think, then ... then what? She had no idea how to proceed. Go back to Reginald and tell him ... tell him what? Or write to Alden? Alden wouldn’t know any more about the distant past than Isabella herself, unless there were long-forgotten truths buried in the Black Library. The old gods were coming back? Isabella wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t seen the new world for herself. Something had definitely changed.

It started here, she told herself. But it won’t stop here.

Big Richard groaned, again. “What happened?”

Isabella frowned. “How much do you remember?”

“Girls,” Big Richard managed. “There were girls. And they were ...”

His voice trailed off. “What happened?”

“I’m not sure,” Isabella said. If all Big Richard remembered were girls ... she shook her head in annoyance. “We have to get back to the village.”

She glanced up at the lightening sky, then glanced around. Were they lost? No ... a pathway led down towards the village. She nodded to Big Richard, then started to walk. The world felt eerie the moment they stepped over the hex sign, even though the ointment was no longer affecting her eyes. She made a resolution to brew more ointment for herself – there wasn’t much to the recipe – and see if she could get it to work. Perhaps, just perhaps, it would allow her to understand how the new rules actually worked.

There was no one moving in the village as they walked down the path, not even a chicken or a pig. She was sure that people were watching them from hidden slits – the huts didn’t have windows, let alone glass – but she saw nothing. A chill ran down her spine as she realised that the villagers were afraid to walk out at night, save for the girls who’d joined the sabbat. They might well be safe in the darkness ...

Lord Robin met them at the door, his face anxious. “What happened? Where have you been?”

Isabella and Big Richard exchanged glances. “It’s a long story,” she said, finally. She still wasn’t sure why Big Richard had followed her. If the call had reached all the way to the village, why had Big Richard been the only one affected? “We have to leave, sir, and catch up with the army.”

“I see,” Lord Robin said. He whistled loudly, waking the other mercenaries. “What happened?”

“This place isn’t safe,” Isabella said. She made a mental note to gather ingredients for the ointment before they left. “And we have to warn the prince about the Red Monks.”

“He knows about the Red Monks,” Big Richard sneered.

“How nice to see you back to normal,” Isabella snapped. “Why did you follow me?”

Big Richard leered. “They were calling me,” he said. “And I could not deny their call.”

Isabella felt her temper snap. “If someone wanted to capture you, all they’d have to do is parade a naked whore around with her tits thrust out so far ...”

Lord Robin cleared his throat, loudly. “We’ll discuss the matter later,” he said. “Right now, grab your bags and some hardtack. We’ll eat on the way.”

“Yes, sir,” Isabella said. Her body felt weird. Her internal clock kept insisting that it was midnight, even though she could see the sun in the distance and hear the sounds of the village waking up. A thought struck her and she turned to the door. “I’ll be back in two minutes.”

She hurried out and down towards Mother Lembu’s hovel. It was gone. There wasn’t even any sign it had been there, only yesterday. Even the herbal garden was gone. She stared for a long moment, then turned and started to walk back to the hut. The villagers didn’t seem surprised that the hovel was gone, even though one of them had pointed her there. She shivered, helplessly. She’d heard of mass compulsion spells, but this ... this was different.

And terrifying, she thought. What was she?

It wasn’t a reassuring thought. She’d assumed Mother Lembu couldn’t possibly have taught Emetine – they’d lived hundreds of miles apart – but if Mother Lembu wasn’t human ... could she have visited the Hereford Lands? What was she? A god? Or merely someone very skilled in the new-old ways? Isabella could imagine ways to create the illusion of a hut, yet she couldn’t see a way to do it without tipping off anyone with even a hint of magical sensitivity. The hut should have been drenched in magic.

And she gave me some of the answers, she thought, as she hurried towards the nearest garden to collect some supplies. And maybe she gave me enough to allow me to figure out the rest.