Naamah's Kiss - Jacqueline Carey [12]
I shook my head. "No need."
"Don't be daft—"
"Watch." I deposited my fish in the creel and summoned the twilight, conscious of his gaze on me. He made a soft sound. Lying beneath the willow tree, I eased my arm back into the clear water. In the twilight, the swimming trout had a silvery gleam. Almost as soon as the slight ripples I'd created faded, I caught one.
"Magic," Cillian murmured. "Did you make yourself unseen?" Aye.
"Yet I could see you. It was only that the air seemed to dazzle about you." He frowned. "Because I was already looking at you, is it?"
"Aye." I wondered if he were a bit slow. "Did I not say so the other day?"
He laughed. "Peace, lass! 'Tis not every day one meets a witchling child. What other magics have you?"
I tied the lid of the creel shut. I didn't wish to speak to him of the man with the seedling. "None."
"No?" he teased. "Can you not summon the wind and catch it in a bag? Can you not charm the birds from the sky?"
"It would be an abuse of the Maghuin Dhonn's gifts to charm a bird for sport," I said with dignity. "And no one can summon the wind."
"They say the Master of the Straits could summon the wind." Cillian leaned back against the willow's trunk and stretched out his legs. "He could cause the seas to rise at his command and call lightning from the sky. But he gave away his book of magic and it's hidden away forever." He gave me a curious glance. "I've heard you speak no spells."
"Spells?" I repeated.
"Incantations. Words of power. Invocations to the gods."
"No." In the twilight, words might have a certain power, but I didn't think that was what he meant. "It's just a gift."
His grey eyes were bright. "Could you teach it to me?"
"I could try," I said dubiously. "But I don't know if it would be right. I'd have to ask my mother."
"Will you?"
"Aye, all right." I trotted back to the hearth and put the question to my mother. Her eyes crinkled with amusement.
"So that's what he's after, is it? Oh aye, let him try till he's blue in the face. He'll take no harm from it."
She was right.
I explained it and demonstrated over and over, but it made no difference. Cillian couldn't get the knack of it because he hadn't the gift. He couldn't raise so much as a glimmer in the air around him. His figure remained stubbornly, solidly visible. After two hours, he stomped around in frustration, kicking at willow roots. I sensed a shiver of distress in my favorite fishing tree as his boots scraped away chunks of bark and laid bare the pale root-flesh beneath.
"Please don't," I murmured. "You're hurting it."
He scowled and knocked on the trunk. "Trees don't feel."
"They do."
He glanced at the sky. "I should be going anyway."
"All right, then." I went to fetch the empty satchel for him. If it was magic he sought to acquire, after today's failure, I didn't think he'd be coming back. The thought made me sad. "Thank you," I said. I tried to think of something else to say that wouldn't be rude. After all, he had brought honeycakes. "It was interesting to meet you."
He slung the satchel over his shoulder. "Is there aught you'd like me to bring next time?" he asked, casting a critical eye over the neatly folded pile of mending on the hearth. "Clothing that's not in rags and tatters?"
I was surprised. "You're coming back?"
Cillian looked hurt. "You'd rather I didn't?"
"No, no!" I smiled. "It would be nice if you did. Thank you." I thought about his offer. I'd no need of fine clothing, but there were other things I liked. "Sausages, mayhap?"
He smiled back at me. "Sausages, it is."
After that, Cillian became a regular visitor. Sometimes eight or ten days would pass between his visits, sometimes only a few. I couldn't teach him magic, but I taught him many things about the woods. Although he hadn't the deeper senses I did, he was still able to pay attention and learn a great deal.
And he, in turn, taught me.
It began the first time I returned to our camp from foraging in the hickory