Wai Write

Rita Stirling-Vincent

Maigritte traced a grubby index fi nger under the runes carved on the ancient tablet, slowly mouthing aloud their meaning. She stumbled over some, skipped others she did not know. Her chipped nails and rough skin showed years of hard labour for the Readers. She knew she shouldn’t touch the tablet but her yearning was too strong and while she was alone ...well, who would know? With glazed eyes and halting breath she felt the magic take her over. The runes glowed and danced on the page, like fairies, just out of reach. She had to make sense of them, somehow.

A voice fi lled with icy rage caught her by surprise. “Get away from there, you fi lthy wretch!” rang out behind her.

“I’m sorry, Bah”, she whispered, leaping back in shock and surprise. “I’m sorry.”

The old woman advanced quickly, pulling her robes around her. “You’ve been told a hundred times ‘Don’t touch the tablet!’ You’ll never become a Reader if you can’t follow instructions.”

“Yes, Bah. I’m sorry,” Maigritte mumbled again, backing towards her bucket and scrubbing brush on the fl oor. Tears welled in her eyes. Stupid! Stupid! Forced to give up her dream all because that blasted tablet had called to her, willing her to touch it and she hadn’t been strong enough to resist. Seven Hells of Damnation. And now she’d been caught.

Bah stepped up to the carved lectern where the tablet lay. She ran her fi ngers lovingly over the page. Her face softened, as did her voice, “I will have to report this to the Council. Get on with your work child.”

Maigritte nodded and swallowed hard. She began scrubbing vigorously at the slate tiles in front of her, hoping to scrub away some of her anguish and shame. Hot tears spilled upon her hands as she worked.

Maigritte knew that girls had been dismissed from the Coven for lesser transgressions than this and her heart sank into a void. The dinner bell saved her from further ruminations but by then she had decided that should she be dismissed, there was no way she was going back to her pod. She would rather die than eke out an existence on the harsh shores of Cliff swells, collecting seaweed and fi sh bones for the Harpies. She made up her mind to join the witches of the forest instead. Much better to learn the lore of herbs and leaves and trees.

On entering the dining hall, her friend, Suze sought her out and knew something was wrong.

“What is it?” she asked in a whisper.

Maigritte shook her head as they took their places on benches in front of the long tables. Her friend was silent. Maigritte swallowed barely two spoonfuls of gruel during the whole meal. Still the axe did not fall. When they were released, Maigritte rushed to her cell, not wanting to speak to anyone and huddled under her thin blanket on her cot. Sleep evaded her but she must have fallen into a doze when there was a peremptory command, “Come. The Council has summoned you,” Bah was standing in the doorway.

“The prophecy has changed,” said Gochelar, head of the Council.

Maigritte stood in a cold sweat, not knowing what to do or say. Long moments passed.

“We have decided,” said Gochelar, in a slow measured tone, “that you will study with the Readers while we try to make sense of this.”

Expecting the worst, Maigritte stood, not comprehending the meaning of these words.

“Go child,” said Bah, giving her a shove in the back, “and learn to be grateful.”

PHOTO/STOCK.ADOBE.COM

Wai Write is a reader-contributed section of Wairarapa Midweek containing creative ÿ ction and short stories. If you have a ° air for writing, send your short stories (up to 600 words) to midweek@age.co.nz to be considered for publication.