Shirley Murphy - The Catswold Portal

“I don’t. And I must know them if I am to steal the mirror.”

The Harpy sighed with exasperation, as if Melissa were very dull. “A daughter of Lillith can open all that closes and close all that opens: locks and spell-doors, of course. And she can open a were-beast to his alter shape. And she can close his power to change. But her real strength lies in this:

“Siddonie can close away truth so only falsehood remains.

“Thus does she mean to twist the peasants so they follow her: she means to close their minds to truth. Thus,” said the Harpy, “does she mean to enslave the Netherworld.”

“And can nothing prevent her?”

“Many powers united might prevent her.” The Harpy looked hard at Melissa. “The power of the Catswold might prevent her.”

“Who are the Catswold?”

The Harpy stared at her, her eyes opening wide. “The Catswold are shape-shifting folk of the eastern nations.” She searched Melissa’s face. “You know nothing of the Catswold?”

“No, nothing.” Uneasily she looked back at the womanbird. “How can there be people in the Netherworld that I don’t know about?” But she was reminded uncomfortably of the forgetting spells Mag wove over her when they visited the villages, those little deaf spells that had touched her in the middle of numerous conversations.

“The Catswold have many powers,” the Harpy said. “But Catswold folk are independent and stubborn.” She looked hard again at Melissa. “They will not easily unite, even to defeat Siddonie. Likely the Catswold will never organize into a formidable force against the queen, as the elven and the human rebels are organizing.”

“How many rebels are imprisoned?” Melissa said impatiently. “When were the last ones brought down?”

“There are twenty-nine rebels here. The last three were brought five days ago. Siddonie tortured them. Their screaming kept me awake.”

“You heard them through those thick stone walls?”

“My hearing, like my eyesight, is quite wonderful.”

“When the queen tortured them, what information did she ask?”

“I couldn’t hear her, just their screams. But she would want to know the rebels’ plans, and she would want to know the names of their leaders.”

“Couldn’t you have shown her that, in your mirror?”

“Why should I? That is part of why she locked me here, because I wouldn’t help her.” The Harpy wiped her bill on her shoulder.

“You side with the rebels, then,” Melissa said hopefully.

“I side with no one,” the Harpy snapped. “Siddonie drew me out of the Pit with her cursed spells, and then she took my mirror. I want to see her dead. But I do not side with the rebels. Now go and fetch my mirror.”

Melissa turned away, both amused by the Harpy and annoyed at the feathered beast. As she moved to the next cell, she saw that the Toad was awake. It had risen to sit on its haunches, its huge, warty belly distended. It fixed Melissa with a bulging stare that seemed empty of all intelligence. Melissa glanced back at the Harpy. “What are the homilies it remembers?”

“How to sour goat’s milk. How to grow artichokes. How to please the Griffon.”

Melissa stared in at the Toad. “Will you tell me how to please the Griffon?” She doubted that the Toad would answer, it looked so dull.

“Caress of gold warmed by sun,” the Toad said in a slow, expressionless voice. “Kiss of emerald blessed by Bast, can please the steed of Nemesis.” The beast looked at her without expression.

Melissa repeated its words, then, “Toad, can you tell me about my past? Can you help me remember who I am?”

The Toad stared at her then lay down again. In an instant it was asleep.

She shouted at it and reached through the bars, but her fingers could barely reach its warty hide. It slept on, deeply.

Well, at least it had told her how to please the Griffon, though likely she would never need to know that. The Harpy, looking out at her, seemed to divine her thoughts. “The Griffon would as soon eat you as look at you.”

Melissa said nothing. She left the Harpy and approached the wall that hid the rebel prisoners, and pressed her ear to the mossy stone.

She could hear nothing. She tried all the opening spells she knew, but the wall remained solid. She drew her light over the mossy stones looking for seams, but found none. She turned away at last toward the stairs and climbed quickly.

Chapter 10

Uneasily Melissa approached the door of the queen’s solar, wishing she knew why she had been summoned this time, and afraid she did know why. Yesterday when Briccha sent her up with the queen’s new riding boots, she had paused in Siddonie’s wardrobe to listen to the queen and two men talking in the chamber beyond. She had recognized the voice of the queen’s seneschal. The dark, stooped man made her uneasy; Vrech came into the scullery sometimes to paw the girls, embarrassing most of them, and enraging Briccha. He was harsh, mean eyed, and not too clean.

Standing in the queen’s wardrobe, she had listened to talk about imported wines and medicines from the upperworld, and Siddonie had said something about the portal in Xendenton and about a caravan carrying goods to Cressteane and Ferrathil. Vrech said they should not use the southern portal, that it opened on the upperworld in too crowded a location. Siddonie had snapped that she knew that, but it was less than an hour’s ride away and he should be able to manage his affairs so no one suspected anything. The queen spoke with cool familiarity of the upperworld cities to which the tunnels led. When the conversation lagged and a chair scraped, Melissa had fled for the hall. She had reached the other end of the passage when Vrech came out, followed by a thick, stiffly moving man with grayish skin and mud-colored hair. The two men had started down the stair when Vrech glanced along the hall, looking her over.

“That’s the girl,” he said softly.

The men had paused, staring at her. She looked back boldly, but fear touched her. Finally they had moved on, laughing. She was terrified they knew she had been listening. And now, summoned by the queen, mounting the last steps and starting down the hall, she was certain she would be punished for spying.

She had been summoned not to the black door that led to the queen’s dark chamber but to the adjoining solar which opened between the queen’s rooms and the king’s. She expected another dark room with black furniture and closed draperies.

But she entered a bright room, the draperies open to the green day, and four oil lamps burning. The walls were of a pale, smooth material she didn’t recognize. The cream satin draperies, tied back, revealed a balcony then the far forest and a sweep of granite sky. The queen stood before a white marble mantel. She was dressed in pale riding pants, soft boots, and a white satin shirt clinging to her breasts and open at the collar. Her black hair was coiled elaborately, her black eyes were intense. A memory touched Melissa—she saw the queen dressed in strange clothes, a tight dress that ended at the knee. The vision filled her with fear and hatred. Even her dislike of the queen, and her knowledge of Siddonie’s cruelties, seemed not enough to support the deep, total hatred that now swept her.

“I have decided to shorten your hours in the scullery, Sarah. Will that please you?”

“I…Of course it will please me.” She was not to be punished, then? Did the queen not know she had eavesdropped?

“I plan to give you some tests. I believe you will find them interesting.”

“What—what sort of tests?”

“Why, to discover your magic skills.”

She shivered, puzzled and apprehensive. “I have no special skills.”