P.S. Every time you read “something is rotten in the state of Denmark” in Hamlet, think of me.
“You tell me that magic is just desire made real. Maybe spells are nothing more than words that you believe with all your heart,” Matthew said, coming to rest his hands on my shoulders. “He loves you. Forever. So do I.”
His words wove through the threads that connected us, witch and vampire. They carried the conviction of his feelings with them: tenderness, reverence, constancy, hope.
“I love you, too,” I whispered, reinforcing his spell with mine.
39
My father had left London without saying a proper good-bye. I was determined to take my own leave differently. As a result my final days in the city were a complex weaving of words and desires, spells and magic.
Goody Alsop’s fetch was waiting sadly for me at the end of the lane. She trailed listlessly behind me as I climbed the stairs to the witch’s rooms.
“So you are leaving us,” Goody Alsop said from her chair by the fire. She was wearing wool and a shawl, and a fire was blazing as well.
“We must.” I bent down and kissed her papery cheek. “How are you today?”
“Somewhat better, thanks to Susanna’s remedies.” Goody Alsop coughed, and the force of it bent her frail frame in two. When she was recovered, she studied me with bright eyes and nodded. “This time the babe has taken root.”
“It has,” I said with a smile. “I have the sickness to prove it. Would you like me to tell the others?” I didn’t want Goody Alsop to shoulder any extra burdens, emotional or physical. Susanna was worried about her frailty, and Elizabeth Jackson was already taking on some of the duties usually performed by the gathering’s elder.
“No need. Catherine was the one to tell me. She said Corra was flying about a few days ago, chortling and chattering as she does when she has a secret.”
We had come to an agreement, my firedrake and I, that she would limit her open-air flying to once a week, and only at night. I’d reluctantly agreed to a second night out during the dark of the moon, when the risk of anyone’s seeing her and mistaking her for a fiery portent of doom was at its lowest.
“So that’s where she went,” I said with a laugh. Corra found the firewitch’s company soothing, and Catherine enjoyed challenging her to firebreathing contests.
“We are all glad that Corra has found something to do with herself besides clinging to the chimneypieces and shrieking at the ghosts.” Goody Alsop pointed to the chair opposite. “Will you not sit with me? The goddess may not afford us another chance.”
“Did you hear the news from Scotland?” I asked as I took my seat.
“I have heard nothing since you told me that pleading her belly did not save Euphemia MacLean from the pyre.” Goody Alsop’s decline began the night I’d told her that a young witch from Berwick had been burned, in spite of Matthew’s efforts.
“Matthew finally convinced the rest of the Congregation that the spiral of accusations and executions had to stop. Two of the accused witches have overturned their testimony and said their confessions were the result of torture.”
“It must have given the Congregation pause to have a wearh speak out on behalf of a witch.” Goody Alsop looked at me sharply. “He would give himself away if you were to stay. Matthew Roydon lives in a dangerous world of half-truths, but no one can avoid detection forever. Because of the babe, you must take greater care.”
“We will,” I assured her. “Meanwhile I’m still not absolutely sure my eighth knot is strong enough for the timewalking. Not with Matthew and the baby.”
“Let me see it,” Goody Alsop said, stretching out her hand. I leaned forward and put the cords into her palm. I would use all nine cords when we timewalked and make a total of nine different knots. No spell used more.
With practiced hands Goody Alsop made eight crossings in the red cord and then bound the ends together so that the knot was unbreakable. “That is how I do it.” It was beautifully simple, with open loops and swirls like the stone traceries in a cathedral window.
“Mine did not look like that.” My laugh was rueful. “It wiggled and squiggled around.”
“Every weaving is as unique as the weaver who makes it. The goddess does not want us to imitate some ideal of perfection, but to be our true selves.”
“Well, I must be all wiggle, then.” I reached for the cords to study the design.
“There is another knot I would show you,” Goody Alsop said.
“Another?” I frowned.
“A tenth knot. It is impossible for me to make it, though it should be the simplest.” Goody Alsop smiled, but her chin trembled. “My own teacher could not make the knot either, but still we passed it on, in hope that a weaver such as you might come along.”
Goody Alsop released the just-tied knot with a flick of her gnarled index finger. I handed the red silk back to her, and she made a simple loop. For a moment the cord fused in an unbroken ring. As soon as she took her fingers from it, however, the loop released.
“But you drew the ends together just a minute ago, and with a far more complicated weaving,” I said, confused.
“As long as there is a crossing in the cord, I can bind the ends and complete the spell. But only a weaver who stands between worlds can make the tenth knot,” she replied. “Try it. Use the silver silk.”
Mystified, I joined the ends of the cord into a circlet. The fibers snapped together to form a loop with no beginning and no ending. I lifted my fingers from the silk, but the circle held.
“A fine weaving,” Goody Alsop said with satisfaction. “The tenth knot captures the power of eternity, a weaving of life and death. It is rather like your husband’s snake, or the way Corra carries her tail in her mouth sometimes when it gets in her way.” She held up the tenth knot. It was another ouroboros. The sense of the uncanny built in the room, lifting the hairs on my arm. “Creation and destruction are the simplest magics, and the most powerful, just as the simplest knot is the most difficult to make.”
“I don’t want to use magic to destroy anything,” I said. The Bishops had a strong tradition of not doing harm. My Aunt Sarah believed that any witch who strayed away from this fundamental tenet would find the evil coming back to her in the end.
“No one wants to use the goddess’s gifts as a weapon, but sometimes it is necessary. Your wearh knows that. After what happened here and in Scotland, you know it, too.”
“Perhaps. But my world is different,” I said. “There’s less call for magical weapons.”
“Worlds change, Diana.” Goody Alsop fixed her attention on some distant memory. “My teacher, Mother Ursula, was a great weaver. I was reminded of one of her prophecies on All Hallows’ Eve, when the terrible events in Scotland began—and when you came to change our world.”
Her voice took on the singsong quality of an incantation.
“For storms will rage and oceans roar
When Gabriel stands on sea and shore.
And as he blows his wondrous horn,
Old worlds die, and new be born.”
Not a breeze or a crackle of flame disturbed the room when Goody Alsop finished. She took a deep breath.
“It is all one, you see. Death and birth. The tenth knot with no beginning and no ending, and the wearh’s snake. The full moon that shone earlier this week and the shadow Corra cast upon the Thames in a portent of your leaving. The old world and the new.” Goody Alsop’s smile wavered. “I was glad when you came to me, Diana Roydon. And when you go, as you must, my heart will be heavy.”
“Usually Matthew tells me when he is leaving my city.” Andrew Hubbard’s white hands rested on the carved arms of his chair in the church crypt. High above us someone prepared for an upcoming church service. “What brings you here, Mistress Roydon?” “I came to talk to you about Annie and Jack.”