Page 7 of The Queen’s Witch

My belly clenched and I forced myself to breathe deeply. Since a Third completes the thrice-braided cord, cunning folk do not have, nor need, one. For most spells, neither did a thrice-braided Sister. But to summon the Goddess or the Dark One, she needed the augmentation of power provided by her Third. As Joan must have done to murder my father and twelve other innocent men.

Mother Redcap turned her gaze on her dog. All at once he looked larger, more alert, his eyes trained on his mistress. She began to chant in the old language. The only words I recognized were Mother Redcap’s name, Margaret Skynner.

A Third can be many things; that was among the little Grandmother had told me about the thrice-braided cord. It can be another animal, an imp or demon, an elemental like a flame, even another person. Yet I was not surprised when at Mother Redcap’s feet a shadow formed, blurred, and slowly took the form of a toad. So many magicks used toads, the most powerful of familiars for cunning folk but the least powerful for the thrice braided. Mother Redcap had already said she had never possessed the power to battle Joan.

Would I? Would my power as thrice braided depend so much on my Third? If it was weak, what would I do?

I would try anyway. I must. Grandmother—

Another spell. Mother Redcap’s voice came to me as if from a far distance. “Alysoun, the bread.”

I tucked Pipkin under my elbow, and on the table, I cut a piece of the bread Mother Redcap had set out, the same now-stale loaf used in my cunning-woman ceremony. A lifetime ago.

“Use the same knife to cut yer left breast over yer heart, and spill the blood onto the bread. The bread must be completely red. Do not drop yer familiar. This be the offering.”

I slashed my breast. Pain lanced through me, and the blood spurted freely. I held the piece of bread to the wound, turning it until nothing remained of the brown surface.

“Do not drop the knife. Put the bread in the circle.”

What circle? But there it was. A perfect roundness of mist emerged, floating above the stone floor. I laid the bread within it.

Mother Redcap said, “This be yer last chance to halt this, Alysoun. After I summon a spirit, there be no turning back. Either the Goddess or the Dark One will appear in some form. There be no means to determine which, for it be not the result of human will, but of Their doings in the realm we cannot know. But be warned: Those whose thrice-braided cord be tied by the Goddess can still fall prey to the joy of malefic magick, and those whose Third be revealed by the Dark One can choose to leave evil behind. We be humble in the face of Fate, but not puppets. Do ye wish—”

“Go on,” I said.

Mother Redcap spelled again in the old language, and the bloody bread vanished. In its place a dark mist formed within the circle. In the old language, which I somehow now understood, Mother Redcap said, “Show this cunning woman her Third, and tie her with the thrice-braided cord.”

The dark mist thickened, grew, and swirled. A second mist, pale gray, formed beside it. That one trembled and wavered. “Show this Sister her Third,” Mother Redcap said again. Now her voice shook. “A thrice-braided cord holds strong.”

The dark mist grew until it touched the rafters. I tried to step backward but could not move, held immobile on the stone floor. From the black mist came a laugh of such evil relish that, had I not held Pipkin in one hand and the knife in the other, I would have clapped my hands over my ears. Each peal of that dark laughter sent shivers into my bones. The laugh echoed, then echoed again.

Despite Mother Redcap’s words, I had been confident that the Goddess would appear to tie my thrice-braided cord. This was the Dark One. Did that matter? My mother “belonged to the Dark One”—would that somehow affect my quest to free Grandmother? Deep foreboding that both was and was not akin to presentiment sent a shudder from my shoulders to my knees.

Mother Redcap said something, a single word, and the Dark One replied. The dog growled. Then again that horrific laugh that was everywhere and nowhere.

Faster than any old woman ever moved, certainly Mother Redcap, she rose, picked up her toad, and threw it onto the fire. It burned with an unearthly green flame. I gasped. Then came an explosive sound, reverberating as if it would never end. The candle extinguished. The dog lay on the hearth and howled.

Both mists vanished. Mother Redcap rasped to her familiar, “Stop that.” The dog stopped instantly. The old woman tottered back to her chair and collapsed onto it.

I said, “What happened? Where is my Third?”

She whispered, “Wine.”

My fingers shook as I poured what should have been my wedding wine. After Mother Redcap had drunk, she raised her old face to mine and said simply, “I be sorry.”

“Sorry? Why? What happened? Your toad—and what of my Third?”

“I do not know. The Dark One—you saw that He was here—He knows but chooses not to say.”

“‘Chooses not to say?’ What do you mean? How can that be?”

“Never have I seen this, but I have heard of it. More wine, Alysoun.”

I gave her the bottle. I would have given her anything if only she would tell me what in the name of the Goddess had just occurred.

Not of the Goddess. Of the Dark One. My throat tightened, and for a moment I could not speak.

Mother Redcap drank, and her voice grew stronger. “I will tell ye what I know. Yer Third be a person. That be very rare, and also unfortunate, because the person, whoever it be, must be present to finish the thrice-braided ceremony. Any other Third can be summoned by the Dark One, but not a living person. Ye can understand why. A living person must give consent to be a Third; otherwise, anyone could be thrice-bound without ever choosing. The gray mist was yer Third, and it did not finish forming. Could ye see anything in it? Man or woman, old or young, tall or short?”