“The bigjob is blockin’ the hole,” said Fion sulkily.
“I daresay there’s room to wriggle past,” said the old kelda in the kind of calm voice that said a stormy voice could follow if people didn’t do what they were told.
With a smoldering glance at Tiffany, Fion squeezed past.
“Ye ken anyone who keeps bees?” said the kelda. When Tiffany nodded, the little old woman went on, “Then you’ll know why we dinna have many daughters. You canna ha’ two quins in one hive wi’oot a big fight. Fion must take her pick o’ them that will follow her and seek a clan that needs a kelda. That is our way. She thinks there’s another way, as gels sometimes do. Be careful o’ her.”
Tiffany felt something move past her, and Rob Anybody and the bard came into the room. There was more rustling and whispering, too. An unofficial audience was gathering outside.
When things had settled down a little, the old kelda said: “It is a bad thing for a clan to left wi’oot a kelda to watch o’er it e’en for an hour. So Tiffan will be your kelda until a new one can be fetched.”
There was a murmur beside and behind Tiffany. The old kelda looked at William the gonnagle.
“Am I right that this has been done before?” she said.
“Aye. The songs say twice before,” said William. He frowned, and added: “Or you could say it was three times if you include the time when the Quin was—”
He was drowned out by the cry that went up behind Tiffany:
“Nae quin! Nae king! Nae laird! Nae master! We willna be fooled again!”
The old kelda raised a hand. “Tiffan is the spawn of Granny Aching,” she said. “Ye all ken of her.”
“Aye, and ye saw the wee hag stare the heidless horseman in the eyes he hasna got,” said Rob Anybody. “Not many people can do that!”
“And I have been your kelda for seventy years and my words canna be gainsaid,” said the old kelda. “So the choice is made. I tell ye, too, that ye’ll help her steal back her wee baby brother. That is the fate I lay on you all in memory of me and Sarah Aching.”
She lay back in her bed and in a quieter voice added, “An’ now I would have the gonnagle play ‘The Bonny Flowers,’ and hope to see yez all again in the Last World. To Tiffan I say be wary.” The kelda took a deep breath. “Somewhere, a’ stories are real, a’ songs are true….”
o;Test me?”
“To see how good you are. Ye’re the hag noo, the witch who guards the edges and the gateways. So wuz yer granny, although she wouldna ever call hersel’ one. And so wuz I until noo, and I’ll pass the duty to ye. She’ll ha’ to get past ye, if she wants this land. Ye have the First Sight and the Second Thoughts, just like yer granny. That’s rare in a bigjob.”
“Don’t you mean second sight?” Tiffany asked. “Like people who can see ghosts and stuff?”
“Ach, no. That’s typical bigjob thinking. First Sight is when you can see what’s really there, not what your heid tells you ought to be there. Ye saw Jenny, ye saw the horseman, ye saw them as real thingies. Second sight is dull sight, it’s seeing only what you expect to see. Most bigjobs ha’ that. Listen to me, because I’m fadin’ noo and there’s a lot you dinna ken. Ye think this is the whole world? That is a good thought for sheep and mortals who dinna open their eyes. Because in truth there are more worlds than stars in the sky. Understand? They are everywhere, big and small, close as your skin. They are everywhere. Some ye can see an’ some ye canna, but there are doors, Tiffan. They might be a hill or a tree or a stone or a turn in the road, or they might e’en be a thought in yer heid, but they are there, all aroound ye. You’ll have to learn to see ’em, because you walk among them and dinna know it. And some of them…is poisonous.”
The kelda stared at Tiffany for a moment and then continued: “Ye asked why the Quin should take your boy. The Quin likes children. She has none o’ her own. She dotes on them. She’ll give the wee boy everything he wants, too. Only what he wants.”
“He only wants sweets!” said Tiffany.
“Is that so? An’ did ye gi’ them to him?” asked the kelda, as if she was looking into Tiffany’s mind. “But what he needs is love an’ care an’ teachin’ an’ people sayin’ no to him sometimes an’ things o’ that nature. He needs to be growed up strong. He willna get that fra’ the Quin. He willna grow up. He’ll get sweeties. Forever.”
Tiffany wished the kelda would stop looking at her like that. “But I see he has a sister willin’ to take any pains to bring him back,” said the little old woman, taking her eyes away from Tiffany. “What a lucky wee boy he is, to be so fortunate. Ye ken how to be strong, do ye?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Good. D’ye ken how to be weak? Can ye bow to the gale, can ye bend to the storm?” The kelda smiled again. “Nay, ye needna answer that. The wee burdie always has tae leap from the nest to see if it can fly. Anyway, ye have the feel o’ Sarah Aching about ye, and no word e’en o’ mine could turn her once she had set her mind to something. Ye’re no’a woman yet, and that’s no’ bad thing, because where ye’ll be goin’ is easy for children, hard for adults.”
“The world of the Queen?” ventured Tiffany, trying to keep up.
“Aye. I can feel it noo, lyin’ over this one like a fog, as far awa’ as the other side o’ a mirror. I’m weakenin’, Tiffan. I canna defend this place. So here is my bargain, child. I’ll point ye toward the Quin an’, in return, ye’ll tak’ over as kelda.”
That surprised Fion as much as Tiffany. Her head shot up sharply and her mouth opened, but the kelda had raised a wrinkled hand.
“When ye are a kelda somewhere, my girl, ye’ll expect people to do your biddin’. So dinna give me the argument. That’s my offer, Tiffan. Ye won’t get a better.”
“But she canna—” Fion began.