Equal Rites

She shredded some dry red leaves into a mug, topped it up with honey and hot water from the kettle, and pushed it into Esk’s hands. Then she put a large round stone under the grate later on, wrapped in a scrap of blanket, it would make a bedwarmer and, with a stern injunction to the girl not to stir from the chair, went out into the scullery.

Esk drummed her heels on the chair legs and sipped the drink. It had a strange, peppery taste. She wondered what it was. She’d tasted Gra

When Gra

Gra

There was something there, she told herself, lurking away in the child’s mind. She didn’t like to think about what it was, but she remembered what had happened to the wolves. And all that about lighting fires with magic. Wizards did that, it was one of the first things they learned.

Gra

She picked up the candle and went out through the scullery into the lean-to that housed her goats. They watched her without fear, each sitting in its pen like a furry blob, three mouths working rhythmically on the day’s hay. The air smelled warm and slightly flatulent.

Up in the rafters was a small owl, one of a number of creatures who found that living with Gra

She blew out the candle and lay back, with the owl perched on her finger.

The goats chewed, burped and swallowed their way through their cozy night. They made the only sound in the building.

Gra

This was the sort of thing wizards could never know. If it occurred to them to enter a creature’s mind they’d do it like a thief, not out of wickedness but because it simply wouldn’t occur to them to do it any other way, the daft buggers. And what good would it do to take over an owl’s body? You couldn’t fly, you needed to spend a lifetime learning. But the gentle way was to ride in its mind, steering it as gently as a breeze stirs a leaf.

The owl stirred, fluttered up on to the little windowsill, and glided silently into the night.

The clouds had cleared and the thin moon made the mountains gleam. Gra

The owl broke out of the forest and skimmed across the rooftops of the village, alighting in a shower of snow on the biggest apple tree in Smith’s orchard. It was heavy with mistletoe.

She knew she was right as soon as her claws touched the bark. The tree resented her, she could feel it trying to push her away.

I’m not going, she thought.

In the silence of the night the tree said, Bully me, then, just because I’m a tree. Typical woman.

At least you’re useful now, thought Gra

It’s not such a bad life, thought the tree. Sun. Fresh air. Time to think. Bees, too, in the spring.

There was something lascivious about the way the tree said “bees” that quite put Gra

I’ve come about the girl, Esk, she hissed.

A promising child, thought the tree, I’m watching her with interest. She likes apples, too.

You beast, said Gra

What did I say? Pardon me for not breathing, I’m sure.

Gra

You must let her go, she thought. The magic is starting to come through.

Already? I’m impressed, said the tree.

It’s the wrong sort of magic! screeched Gra

Great! said the tree. Gra

Great? Supposing she had been arguing with her brothers, and lost her temper, eh?

The tree shrugged. Snowflakes cascaded from its branches.

Then you must train her, it said.

Train? What do I know from training wizards!

Then send her to university.

She’s female! hooted Gra

Well? Who says women can’t be wizards?

Gra

Women have never been wizards. It’s against nature. You might as well say that witches can be men.

If you define a witch as one who worships the pancreative urge, that is, venerates the basic—the tree began, and continued for several minutes. Gra

The tree finished its monologue.

Gra

Its theoretical basis, yes.

You wizards certainly get some fu

The tree said, Not a wizard anymore, just a tree.

Gra

Well, just you listen to me, Mr. so-called Theoretical Basis Tree, if women were meant to be wizards they’d be able to grow long white beards and she is not going to be a wizard, is that quite clear, wizardry is not the way to use magic, do you hear, it’s nothing but lights and fire and meddling with power and she’ll be having no part of it and good night to you.

The owl swooped away from the branch. It was only because it would interfere with the flying that Gra