Chapter twenty-one

Hybitor Council Chambers, Neman Forest

 

Gwyneth was irritated to find an unexpected guest in the council study. They’d had enough of that recently – too many meetings and too many people. Anyway, here was Owen sitting in an arm chair reading today’s Eth City News. He must have brought it with him.

‘What are you doing hanging around here?’ she asked.

He stood up and offered his hand. She shook it with obvious reluctance. Better that than hugging.

‘I’m looking for you...’

She shook her head.

‘Well, you can have five minutes – I’m very busy’

‘I want to ask you about Celia’

Even Gwyneth couldn’t resist that one. Her natural reflex had been to back away and to make the conversation end as soon as possible, but this was different: they’d lost a covener and she also happened to be the woman that Owen loved.

‘Well, I have no news...’ she said, ‘she hasn’t tried to contact us so far, I’m afraid’

Owen frowned.

‘John told me’ he said

Gwyneth looked blank.

‘Told you what...?’

Owen seemed reluctant to carry on, but with a gulp he did.

‘I know about the font’

Gwyneth cursed John under her breath. Stupid man – can’t be trusted with any secret!

‘It’s not for fiddling with’ she said, ‘I only use it in extremis...’ She made the Visneorian expression seem like an order.

Owen put his hand on the top of hers.

‘I know. I really wouldn’t ask but I need to know if she’s alive’

Gwyneth pulled away from him.

‘It’s not an instrument, Owen Floyd, it’s intended to be used sparingly; otherwise it can become an obsession. The temptation is to be always popping down there, just to check. That’s why I wanted no-one else to know about it’

Owen looked at her with imploring eyes.

‘I know that, but I need to find out something; something that John suggested to me’

Gwyneth heart tended to stony, but she was not without sympathy for lost loves. She sighed.

‘I shouldn’t do this, but I will, for Celia’s sake’

She blindfolded him and led him along several incorrect paths through the corridors of the headquarters. Then they clattered down a flight of rickety stairs into a basement area. She took off his blindfold and lit an oil lamp.

They were in a small circular room with a font in the centre of it. This structure was a raised basin with an eddying surface of liquid in it. The water, or whatever it was, was covered with a reticulated black meniscus. In each cell was a different colour: red, light blue, purple, dark green, light green, dark blue, swirling white and red, black, orange, pink, brown, and rainbow hued. Both their eyes, however, were drawn immediately to the brightest cell of all, one that almost burnt with its white light.

‘Is that hers?’ he asked

Gwyneth nodded.

‘What does that mean?’ he asked

‘She’s here’ she whispered, ‘back in Skiophos’

He looked down at the patch of almost unbearably bright white light.

‘She’s so bright’ he said

‘Yes – the brightest ever... why do you think she’s still alive?’

Owen stopped for a second, an intense concentration creasing his forehead. He shook his head.

‘There are no traces – how can she be back here but not casting spells. Why hasn’t she teleported back here? Or back home?’

‘I don’t know...’

‘Will you allow me to try something?’

Gwyneth shook her head.

‘No – no-one is permitted to touch it in any way, physically or with magic’

Owen persisted, despite Gwyneth’s tone.

‘I just wanted to cast an adail on Celia’s patch; it might tell me where she is’

Gwyneth eyes widened and she put her hands up as if to fend him away.

‘No – I will not permit that! You’ll have to find another way to locate her’

Owen scowled but he put up no resistance.

‘It probably wouldn’t have worked, anyway...’

Owen continued to stare at the bright patch. Gwyneth was now very keen to get him away from the font. She shooed him off like a laundry maid keeping a dog from her clean washing. He began to move but his eyes were still fixed on the collage of colours in the water.

‘Which one is mine?’ he asked

Gwyneth knew that after what had just happened she could hardly refuse him this.

 ‘The dark green one’ she said

Owen’s patch was just next to Celia’s. It was smaller and much less bright; the green was the colour of holly leaves and had the texture of wool.

‘And yours?’ he asked.

Gwyneth had had enough. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him across the floor to the doorway. Even though he was a lot stronger than her he didn’t resist.

Gwyneth shuttered the lantern and the little room went dark. She retied the blindfold without any concern for gentleness. Then she led the way back up the stairs. Neither of them spoke until they reached the main hallway, although Gwyneth was certain that Owen was muttering with annoyance under his breath. Once they were in the hallway she yanked the blindfold off. They stood there or a moment, both struggling with their own private anger.

‘Can I be honest with you, Gwyn?’ he asked

‘I suppose so’ she answered warily.

‘If I were coven president, Jones protect us, I wouldn’t allow this’

She glared him.

‘And then you wouldn’t know if the woman that you love was dead or alive’

‘I know...’ he said, ‘but you must sense how dangerous this is. I don’t even want to know how you conjured up those colours ’

‘No you don’t’ she snapped, ‘you really don’t and there’s no way I’m going to tell you’

They glared at each other. Neither said anything else. Eventually they stalked off in opposite directions. Owen, though, had got what he needed: a blindfold was no match for a whispered adail spell.