Devils on Starfall Isle

4

The woman had come at high summer, when the bugs flew between the trees of the grey forest and the fruit was heavy on the orchard branches. Her name was Tira. Despite what Cuther had said, she hadn't been crazy, or old; although she laughed at things that she wasn't supposed to, like the alderman's pomposity, the priggish stares of the goodwives. Her hair was shot with silver, white threads in the black, and her grey eyes twinkled in a face lined from laughter.

The goodwives glared at her; but they visited her in secret to ask for help with their troubles. The men mocked her, but they feared her too, and when she healed Goodman Spinner's goat she gained a modicum of respect.

Verity knew all this because Tira had stayed in Verity's hut for the three weeks that she'd been in the village, and the pair of them sat in the late summer evenings, talking, and watching the birds catch bugs in the hazy air.

No, as far as Cuther and the others were concerned, Tira had to be crazy, because she was speaking of doom and death.

'I reckon you've got about a month,' she said, drinking loosewort tea from one of Verity's old cups. 'Maybe a bit more.'

She stopped to pick a piece of leaf from her tongue.

'You keep saying that,' said Verity. 'You keep saying that we're doomed here. What do you mean?'

'I've no idea, my dear,' said Tira. 'I just read the runes. Every time I throw them here, it says death. Death when the leaves brown, and the days shorten. I'll show you if you like.'

What she said was grim, but the way she said it was not; she said everything cheerfully, pragmatically, and this was no different. It was like she was discussing whether an apple was rotten or not.

Verity was nervous; rune-reading wasn't exactly forbidden, but it wasn't exactly allowed either. But she was barely tolerated by the village as it was; she didn't feel like she had anything to lose. So she shrugged, trying to be as nonchalant as Tira was.

'OK, then.'

'Let me get them.'

Tira ducked into Verity's hut, and returned with a small leather bag. She opened it, and took out a dozen small, pale rectangles of bone, each carved with a different symbol. Verity put down her weaving, and came over, so she could see better.

Tira closed her eyes, covered the runes in her hands, whispered something; and then she threw them down. They landed on the earth, scattered; and Tira bent down to see.

'Yup, same again. See: there's Lot, the symbol for the end. It's at the top of the pattern, and it's pointing towards me. That means death. And there's Gro, the sun; it's at the furthest left, and it's pointing left. That means autumn. The others are face down or towards the centre. It means they don't matter. Death in the autumn.'

'What did you whisper, just before you threw them?' asked Verity.

'Just a little blessing, an ask for guidance. You can ask for specific things, too. I'll teach you, if you like.'

'Is it dangerous?'

Tira looked up from studying the bones, met her gaze.

'Yes,' she said. 'Yes, it is. Any knowledge is dangerous, and knowledge of the future especially so. But the danger doesn't come from the runes. It comes from the people who are jealous of the knowledge; of the people who misuse the knowledge. Of the people who fritter the power away. You treat the runes with respect, and they will help you.'

Verity nodded. 'OK. Yes, I'd like to learn.'

'Good. You can have these runes, if you like; a gift for letting me stay with you. I'll buy another set when I leave this island.'

'You're not staying?' asked Verity, taken aback.

'Of course not. Death in the autumn. I'm leaving here. You're a smart girl; you should come with me. Now, hand out, I'll show you how to throw them.'