Silver in the Bone (Silver in the Bone #1)(94)
Author: Alexandra Bracken
“Please don’t tell me I’m the only one who had that thought,” I said. “Merlin mentioned a she who tried to master death, which feels like a riddle-me-this way of saying someone tried to learn the death magic of the druids. Caitriona may not be the one controlling the Children—”
The priestess’s entire being seemed to swell with outrage. “You thought I was controlling them?”
“We did,” I confirmed.
“Sorry,” Emrys added.
“I didn’t,” Neve offered.
Caitriona’s eyes flashed over to her, then away just as quickly. She shook her head, forcing herself to draw in a deep breath.
“Again, I must tell you, Merlin is little more than a wagging tongue,” Olwen said. “He may be referring to Morgan, as she ultimately did die in her attempt to defeat the druids.”
“The vessel’s final memory of that dark time is of High Priestess Viviane telling Morgan that there’s no magic stronger than that of death,” Caitriona said, turning to address Neve. “While you may think her a coward, Viviane truly believed in her heart that confronting the druids would be a losing battle.”
“Then how did they prevail?” Emrys asked, circling around to look at the vessel closely again. “How did the future sorceresses defeat the druids so soundly?”
“We can’t say for certain,” Olwen said. “When it came to it, the sorceresses overpowered their greater numbers with ease, as if the druids couldn’t draw upon their death magic quickly enough to repel them. That, or it was merely the force of these women’s rage.”
“A truly powerful force,” Emrys said. At my look, he added, “What? I’m being serious.”
“I have another question,” Neve said. “As you heard, Tamsin and Emrys believe that the Children are being controlled by someone still alive in Avalon. It couldn’t be that Merlin is the one who created the Children . . . right?”
“No,” Caitriona said. “The Mother tree’s grip is too powerful to be overcome by a weak man.”
“But we saw a druid symbol—” I protested.
“If you are referring to the cages in the underpath, I assure you, there is an explanation for that as well,” Olwen said. “One far less sinister than you seem to believe.”
“Try me,” I said.
“The first of the Children were captured and kept out of sight to avoid causing unnecessary fear,” Caitriona said. “High Priestess Viviane tried, with every scrap of knowledge she possessed, to transform them back into the people they had once been.”
Emrys crossed his arms over his chest. “Why would she try to sever their souls from their bodies?”
“When Viviane understood that our magic was incapable of transforming them back to their original forms,” Caitriona said, her posture turning defensive, “she called upon what she knew of the druids’ death magic to release their souls from their monstrous confines and return them to the Goddess.”
That may be what she told you, I thought, but it doesn’t make it true.
“And you’re certain the missing piece of the skull isn’t buried with the rest of her?” Neve asked.
“No,” Caitriona said. “When she was . . . when she—” She made herself take in a deep breath and look up at us. “When Viviane was killed, we were forced to burn her body so she would not become one of the Children.”
The grief on Olwen’s face was staggering; the pain of the High Priestess’s death would have cut like a serrated blade to the heart, aggravated by the need to burn her body, rather than bury it in the soil to meet her Goddess and begin life anew.
In the eyes of the Nine, High Priestess Viviane’s entire being had been destroyed, and the isle would never know her soul again.
“I know Olwen explained that blood can hold memory,” I said to Caitriona, “and what I saw you doing in the bone room makes sense now, but if no one can make a vessel, why are you cutting your hand and bleeding into a big creepy pot each night?”
She seemed less sure of herself than usual when she answered. “I believe another vessel maker will come, born with the sacred knowledge whispered in their mind. The cauldron will keep my knowledge until the day my own vessel may be prepared, and what we have faced will not be forgotten.”
“Here’s what I still don’t understand, though.” I licked at my chapped lips in thought. “You were so certain the sorceresses were behind the curse. It really never occurred to you that the druids might be to blame when you were dripping your blood into a swirling vat of silver the exact same color as the Children’s bones?”
Caitriona bristled at that. “There’s no silver in the cauldron.”
“Did you forget the part where Emrys and I saw it with our own eyes?” I asked her.
Olwen’s brow wrinkled. “No, Tamsin, Cait is correct. The contents of the cauldron, if there are any, are unseen to the eye. Even our blood disappears into its darkness.”
Alarm rang out in my mind, trilling down the length of my spine. The worktable creaked beneath me as I shifted, looking to Emrys.
“It wasn’t empty,” he confirmed, moving to stand beside me. His words and his nearness steadied me in a way I hadn’t expected. “The liquid inside it was silver, as if piles of it had been melted down.”
Caitriona and Olwen shared a look. Something silent passed between them.
“You both must have been exhausted,” Neve said. “And you were already upset and confused about the vessels . . .”
“We did not experience a shared hallucination,” I told her. “I know what I saw—in fact, I have proof.”
I undid the latches on my workbag and retrieved Ignatius inside his silk wrappings. I unwound the strips around the handle and thrust it out for them to see.
But the iron was as black as it had ever been.
“I don’t . . .” The words drifted away with my certainty. “I don’t understand . . . I dipped this into the cauldron. It came away silver.” I looked between the others, feeling strangely desperate for them to believe me. “It was silver.”
Emrys gripped my wrist, drawing my eyes to his. The belief in them gave me something to anchor myself to. “I know what we saw.”
“You are welcome to join me tomorrow so I can convince you otherwise,” Caitriona said.