“What is true of the firedrake is true of the rowan tree as well,” Goody Alsop said with a proud smile. “It is not every day that a rowan tree pushes its branches into one world while leaving its roots in another.”
In spite of the happy chatter of the women who surrounded me, I felt lost and alone. Matthew was waiting at the Golden Gosling for news. My third eye opened, seeking out a twisted thread of black and red that led from my heart, across the room, through the keyhole, and into the darkness beyond. I gave it a tug, and the chain inside me responded with a sympathetic chime.
“If I’m not very much mistaken, Master Roydon will be around shortly to collect his wife,” Goody Alsop said drily. “Let’s get you on your feet, or he’ll think we cannot be trusted with you.”
“Matthew can be protective,” I said apologetically. “Even more so since . . .”
“I’ve never known a wearh who wasn’t. It’s their nature,” Goody Alsop said, helping me up. The air had gone particulate again, brushing softly against my skin as I moved.
“Master Roydon need not fear in this case,” Elizabeth said. “We will make sure you can find your way back from the darkness, just like your firedrake.”
“What darkness?”
The witches went silent.
“What darkness?” I repeated, pushing my fatigue aside.
Goody Alsop sighed. “There are witches—a very few witches—who can move between this world and the next.”
“Time spinners,” I said with a nod. “Yes, I know. I’m one of them.”
“Not between this time and the next, Diana, but between this world and the next.” Marjorie gestured at the branch by my feet. “Life—and death. You can be in both worlds. That is why the rowan chose you, not the alder or the birch.”
“We did wonder if this might be the case. You were able to conceive a wearh’s child, after all.” Goody Alsop looked at me intently. The blood had drained from my face. “What is it, Diana?”
“The quinces. And the flowers.” My knees weakened again but I remained standing. “Mary Sidney’s shoe. And the oak tree in Madison.”
“And the wearh,” Goody Alsop said softly, understanding without my telling her. “So many signs pointing to the truth.”
A muffled thumping rose from outdoors.
“He mustn’t know,” I said urgently, grabbing at Goody Alsop’s hand. “Not now. It’s too soon after the baby, and Matthew doesn’t want me meddling with matters of life and death.”
“It is a bit late for that,” she said sadly.
“Diana!” Matthew’s fist pounded on the door.
“The wearh will split the wood in two,” Marjorie observed. “Master Roydon won’t be able to break the binding spell and enter, but the door will make a fearsome crash when it gives way. Think of your neighbors, Goody Alsop.”
Goody Alsop gestured with her hand. The air thickened, then relaxed.
Matthew was standing before me in the space of a heartbeat. His gray eyes raked over me. “What happened here?”
“If Diana wants you to know, she will tell you,” said Goody Alsop. She turned to me. “In light of what happened tonight, I think you should spend time with Catherine and Elizabeth tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Goody,” I murmured, grateful that she had not revealed my secrets.
“Wait.” Catherine went to the branch from the rowan tree and snapped off a thin twig. “Take this. You should have a piece with you at all times for a talisman.” Catherine dropped the bit of wood into my palm.
Not only Pierre but Gallowglass and Hancock were waiting for us in the street. They hustled me into a boat that waited at the bottom of Garlic Hill. After we arrived back at Water Lane Matthew sent everyone away, and we were left in the blissful quiet of our bedchamber.
“I don’t need to know what happened,” Matthew said roughly, closing the door behind him. “I just need to know that you’re truly all right.”
“I’m truly fine.” I turned my back to him so that he could loosen the laces on my bodice.
“You’re afraid of something. I can smell it.” Matthew spun me around to face him.
“I’m afraid of what I might find out about myself.” I met his eyes squarely.
“You’ll find your truth.” He sounded so sure, so unconcerned. But he didn’t know about the dragon and the rowan and what they meant for a weaver. Matthew didn’t know that my life belonged to the goddess either, nor that it was because of the bargain I’d made to save him.
“What if I become someone else and you don’t like her?”
“Not possible,” he assured me, drawing me closer.
“Even if we find out that the powers of life and death are in my blood?”
Matthew pulled away.
“Saving you in Madison wasn’t a fluke, Matthew. I breathed life into Mary’s shoes, too—just as I sucked the life out of the oak tree at Sarah’s and the quinces here.”
“Life and death are big responsibilities.” Matthew’s gray-green eyes were somber. “But I will love you regardless. You forget, I have power over life and death, too. What is it you told me that night I went hunting in Oxford? You said there was no difference between us. ‘Occasionally I eat partridge. Occasionally you feed on deer.’
“We are more similar, you and I, than either of us imagined,” Matthew continued. “But if you can believe good of me, knowing what you do of my past deeds, then you must allow me to believe the same of you.”
Suddenly I wanted to share my secrets. “There was a firedrake and a tree—”
“And the only thing that matters is that you are safely home,” he said, quieting me with a kiss.
Matthew held me so long and so tightly that for a few blissful moments I—almost—believed him.
The next day I went to Goody Alsop’s house to meet with Elizabeth Jackson and Catherine Streeter as promised. Annie accompanied me, but she was sent over to Susanna’s house to wait until my lesson was done.
The rowan branch was propped up in the corner. Otherwise the room looked perfectly ordinary and not at all like the kind of place where witches drew sacred circles or summoned firedrakes. Still, I expected some more visible signs that magic was about to be performed—a cauldron, perhaps, or colored candles to signify the elements.
Goody Alsop gestured to the table, where four chairs were arranged. “Come, Diana, and sit. We thought we might begin at the beginning. Tell us about your family. Much is revealed by following a witch’s bloodline.”
“But I thought you would teach me how to weave spells with fire and water.”
“What is blood, if not fire and water?” Elizabeth said.
Three hours later I was talked out and exhausted from dredging up memories of my childhood—the feeling of being watched, Peter Knox’s visit to the house, my parents’ death. But the three witches didn’t stop there. I relived every moment of high school and college, too: the daemons who followed me, the few spells I could perform without too much trouble, the strange occurrences that began only after I met Matthew. If there was a pattern to any of it, I failed to see it, but Goody Alsop sent me off with assurances that they would soon have a plan.
I dragged myself to Baynard’s Castle. Mary tucked me into a chair and refused my help, insisting I rest while she figured out what was wrong with our batch of prima materia. It had gone all black and sludgy, with a thin film of greenish goo on top.
My thoughts drifted while Mary worked. The day was sunny, and a beam of light sliced through the smoky air and fell on the mural depicting the alchemical dragon. I sat forward in my chair.
“No,” I said. “It can’t be.”
But it was. The dragon was not a dragon for it had only two legs. It was a firedrake and carried its barbed tail in its mouth, like the ouroboros on the de Clermont banner. The firedrake’s head was tilted to the sky, and it held a crescent moon in its jaws. A multipointed star rose above it. Matthew’s emblem. How had I not noticed before?
“What is it, Diana?” asked a frowning Mary.
“Would you do something for me, Mary, even if the request is strange?” I was already untying the silk cord at my wrists in anticipation of her answer.
“Of course. What is it you need?”