Spiral Path (Night Calls Series Book 3) (3 page)

Crossing the second doorsill, I stopped short. One beeswax
candle lit the cave beyond, throwing stark shadows into the crevices above us.
The maiden who had fetched me from my dream sleep had her arms tossed around
the neck of the prettiest little gray mare I’d ever seen, round as a tun, ready
to pop with her foal. Turning back, tears in her eyes, the girl said: “Please!
I know you can help her! Only you can help her!”

Well, truth be told, my father would have served the mare
better, and I almost said so. But this was a dream, so perhaps I had power here.
The child was so upset that I slowly reached over to touch the pale mare’s damp
shoulder. Dark eyes glinting like deep pools of water turned to me, and I
suddenly had the strangest feeling. Something odd about this mare . . .
could she be a practitioner who had shifting ability? The magic woven through
her was foreign to my small experience.

Well.

I’d
delivered foals before, and I’d delivered human babies. They were more alike
than different, those little ones. I could do this thing.

“It will be fine,” I murmured. “Let’s just let her move
around.”

And she did move—that start-and-stop gait of a female grass
eater restless without knowing why. The mare would pause, looking for a
comfortable position, then move again, nibbling at soft new grass the girl had
found somewhere. The waif still had not introduced herself, and in my dreamlike
haze, I did not ask her name. I waited for the mare to progress, for labor had
begun, and her coat was slick with sweat.

It felt like hours, so long that I asked the girl to build
up the fire in the main room of the house. This caused me to remove my coat,
for we had warm air at our backs. Finally the mare knelt in the deep straw, her
sides heaving, and I knew I should check to see if the hooves had presented
yet. Baby foals come out folded down against their forelegs, hoof first.
Please Lord and Lady, no breech
. I had
no idea how to turn a foal. Would burning mugwort work as it did for human
babies?

I moved the mare’s tail to see how far along we were, and
then the strangest part of the dream occurred. For a brief moment I could have
sworn that I saw a human baby’s hand peeking from the mare’s womb! I blinked,
and then I saw pearly gray hooves, which disappeared when the mare stopped
straining. All this made me hesitate to take hold of the hooves to help her in
her labor. Was this magic, or the dream?

It didn’t matter what I was seeing—there was a baby to
deliver. When the hooves and fetlocks stayed solidly outside the mare, I wiped
down the feet with some straw and then took hold above the fetlocks to gently
pull at the next contraction. Another push, the nose of the foal was visible—

Suddenly my vision changed; I saw repeating images from many
points in the room.

The only thing I could use as an anchor in my thoughts was
that this was how a spider might look at things with her eight eyes. The scene
before me fractured and multiplied. Colors danced, opening and closing like a
lady’s fan. It was as if the stained glass in the Kristinsson family’s front
door spun before me. I’d heard that cathedrals in Europe had such jeweled
windows, more than the front door of the boarding house. The mare gave a couple
of strong pushes, and abruptly I fell backward to land in the straw with a
newborn colt in my lap.

Only a moment . . . then the colt dissolved
into a flaxen-haired baby boy, his face scrunched up in protest at this rude
arrival into the world. My dream self took this calmly, reaching in my pocket
for my embroidery thread and scissors to tie off the belly button cord.

There was movement next to me, and the mare surged back onto
her feet. I looked up at her, and realized she had a long, glossy polished horn
sticking out of her forehead. For a moment I just stared, for she’d gone from a
pale gray coat to one of glimmering white. The horn was barely as thick as fine
paper, with a twist and sheen like a shell. I could see the glow of candlelight
through it.

Suddenly Marta was there, guardian of my life, even into my
dreams, it seemed. Had I called her, or had she come because of something she
sensed in the upper plains of existence?

“
This
goes too far, Suletu,” Marta said to the girl, her expression stern. From my
position on the floor, Marta looked formidable indeed. I held my head still to
calm the floating images, and let my eyes look first to one, and then the other
speaker.

“
Would
you rather that we asked you?” the young girl replied, swooping down to take
the baby from my lap. “We thought that someone removed from Circle politics
would be best, and you cannot deny that we chose well.”

“
You
needed a powerful practitioner,” Marta said flatly. “You would have gone
halfway around the world for Alfreda, if that was where she was born,
because you thought that you could
control her
.
You have
put her in a position of peril from any unscrupulous magic-user powerful enough
to notice this night.
Did you think I would not find out? You might as
well have hung a sign on her saying ‘Challenges Accepted.’”

You underestimate her
.
I blinked, for the thought came from the direction of the mare—the unicorn. Who
was a . . . shape shifter? I crossed my legs to sit comfortably.

Marta just threatened
a girl and a unicorn. This is not a dream.

“
Who
are you, and why did you choose to have your baby while shifted?” I said,
looking up from the mound of straw that I’d tumbled into while helping the . . .
baby . . . arrive.

She misses little,
the
mare went on.
It took all the attention I
could spare to help Suletu keep Alfreda’s mind in the dream place. We meant and
mean her no harm. She has done us a great favor, and my house will remember,
whatever comes of this deed.

“
Witnessed.”
Marta and the girl—Suletu?—said the word together, as if they had planned it in
advance. I had the vague feeling that this word was important, but decided to
keep my mouth shut. My head was starting to clear, and I could feel blood on my
hands. I hadn’t ever “felt” in a dream, so it turned out that this was magic
after all.

“
Congratulations
on your son, Namid,” Marta said as she offered me a hand up from the ground. “I
would wish him a long and peaceful life, but your choice has already denied him
that fate. I hope you do not regret this night’s work.”

We had no choice.
Others have placed their pieces upon the board of life. If we had not moved a
pawn, we would not be in the game.

“
Perhaps.”
Next Marta picked up my coat and slipped it over my shoulders. “Alfreda is not
your pawn to move. Do not attempt to coerce her again.” Marta had her palm
against the small of my back, and with a strong arm swept me out of the warm
cave. Yes, the cave was real; the house had been illusion.

It was my second magical baby delivery that night.

I hoped that there wouldn’t be a third.

o0o

I had no idea which way we were walking through the dark,
and tried to place myself by the stars. Apparently it was still the same night—I
did not feel as if I had missed several meals, or a bath. “Why did they want me
to deliver that . . . youngling? Why not you?”

The sound that came out of Marta was the closest I could
remember to hearing her snort. “The horned ones have their own traditions,
legends and superstitions, just as we do. The birth of a horned one, a unicorn
or a Ki Lin, is a rare and blessed event. Few people know they are shape
shifters. But unicorns believe that the stronger and more important a newborn
will be, the more powerful the person who serves as midwife must be. Namid
sought you for the task because she believes you will be a powerful practitioner.”

“
But
she doesn’t know that,” I pointed out. “I may be very average, after all is
said and done.” I was shivering now, grateful for my coat but hesitant to pull
on the sleeves. I did not want to have to explain blood on my coat to my mother
or Aunt Dagmar.

“
Who
knows what Namid knows?” Marta responded. “Unicorns are long-lived, intelligent
and secretive. They also have their own power, and we know little about that
strength. I suspect many of them are Seers. Perhaps she is right—or at least
she knows that on one path, you may become a powerful practitioner.”

“
But
if I’m not . . . . ” I started slowly.

“
Then
she has opened you up to attacks by other powers who crave the title of
strongest mage.” Marta’s words were flat. I did not sense any room for discussion.

“
What
do we do?” I asked, my voice soft and tight. I had been tricked by a magical
creature. Could anyone just walk into my mind and cause me to do things against
my will?

“
We
can get you immediate training in ritual magic,” Marta replied, and she sounded
tired. “Plenty of time for me to finish your work with herbs and basic
elemental magic when you return. You’re going to need to jump ahead to setting
permanent wards and other protections.” Marta stopped walking, her arm still
around me. I could see the dark bulk of my parents’ house against the starry
night. Smoke lingered on the faint breeze, that blend of oak and apple wood my
parents liked best.

There was something in her voice that made me say: “We’re
leaving tomorrow for Cat Track Hollow, aren’t we?”

“
I
want us on the road before noon. We need to get back and pack your trunk and
get you to Esme as swiftly as possible.”

Cousin Esme? My mother’s mysterious cousin Esme, the wizard
of Manhattan?

The blood on my hands was finally dry. I shivered and pulled
my coat closed. “It’s a long way to New York,” I murmured.

“
Sometimes,”
Marta said in turn. “Don’t worry about it, dear. We’ll explain it to you later.
Right now, you’ll just have to trust me.”

o0o

I rinsed the blood from my old skirt and let it dry by the
banked fire. My parents were unhappy that we were leaving so soon, but Marta
must have told them something about the night visitors, for they did not coax
us to stay. We packed Marta’s few things and were on the road by mid-morning.
Ironing could wait until we reached Marta’s home. It seemed wasteful to take
any of Momma’s clothes, since I had my things at Marta’s house, but Momma
insisted I take one of her older dresses
and
a sponge bath.

I wish we could have stayed longer. I scarcely got to talk
with Momma and Papa, or let the boys show me what they’re been making and
learning. I could have sat for hours holding Elizabeth. A baby is the only
miracle most people ever get to share in, and it had been a long time since we’d
had a newborn in the house.

I hoped that she would remember me—would we know each other’s
minds?—but I would be a stranger to her when we met again.

My heart was heavy.

o0o

It was a full day’s ride to Cat Track Hollow in good
weather. It was dark when we finally went east past the small town and followed
the trail edging Wild Rose Run
,
the creek tracing Marta
’s
south border
. Snow was still heaped, though it had been a few days since
the last storm. The ice was packed enough to walk upon, but the stream had
broken through and gurgled a greeting. I was very tired, and glad to reach my
cousin’s home at last.

Marta and I rubbed down the horses and left them together in
the big stall in the lean-to so they wouldn’t be lonesome. Sweet William, Marta’s
walker, was over at a neighbor’s place with the rest of her stock. That
neighbor always took over when Marta left her home, and she had headed off to
my rescue over a moon ago. My cousin had not known how long she would be gone
in her efforts to retrieve me from
Hudson-on-the-Bend
, or if she would return at all. Practitioners are the
most levelheaded of the magical world. You always know there’s a chance you’ll
lose, when you challenge another.

We try not to leave loose ends.

By the time I had hauled in the last of our things, Marta
had built a fire in the main fireplace and was setting an iron in the fire to
heat. “Unpack my bag, Allie,” she said. “We should set a small fire to warm up
the bedroom.”

I blinked. Another fire? I would be happy to roll up in a
blanket in the big room, but I could see that wouldn’t please Marta. Dragging
the clothes bag behind me, I headed to the largest bedroom.

It didn’t take long to start a fire in the pit in Marta’s
bedroom. Like my Papa, Uncle Jon had built some unusual things into his house,
including two bedroom fireplaces, one for the master and one shared by the
smaller bedrooms. I laid out all our clothing and shook out wrinkles, which
didn’t take long. All I had brought back from my family home was the one change
of older clothes Momma insisted I wear, and the breeches, skirt, shirt and
sweater I’d been wearing the day Erik Hudson snatched me and took me to his
family’s compound hundreds of miles away.

I also went into the guestroom closet Uncle Jon had built
and pulled out every stitch of clothing I had brought from Sun-Return months
before. I folded carefully, since I knew Marta would check to be sure I had not
wrinkled things. She’d already started loading my trunk, which I found
interesting.

Did Marta sometimes have prophetic dreams?

If she did, what had those dreams told her, while I was in
Hudson-on-the-Bend?

As
if conjured, Marta was suddenly there. “Are you finished packing
your
trunk?” she asked as she stepped into the guest room.

I paused. This question told me how worried Marta was about
what had happened last night. She usually told me to do something, and then
trusted that I was doing it.