“It does not make sense. Why is it I cannot learn?” asked Eilan. However badly she might play, she could surely do better than that fellow outside, who did not seem to have noticed that as the day grew warmer his upper strings were going out of tune.
“Of course it does not make sense,” Caillean replied. “A great deal that the priests do makes no sense; and they know it. That is one reason why I will not be allowed to succeed Lhiannon. Ardanos is aware that I know it too.”
“Do you want to be High Priestess?” asked Eilan, her eyes rounding.
“Heaven forbid,” said Caillean fervently. “I would be running head-on against the will of the priesthood – which is like a stone wall – every day of my life. Leadership is another thing the men wish to keep for themselves. I think it has got worse since they encountered the Romans. They wish to keep the weapons, and the harps, and everything else save for the suffering of childbirth and the toil of the cooking pot and the loom. I dare say they would like to say women cannot serve the gods, but no one would be foolish enough to believe that. But why do you want to learn to play a harp?”
Eilan said, “Because I love music, and I cannot sing.”
“Your voice is soft but sweet, for I have heard it.”
“Grandfather says that next to Dieda, I croak like a frog,” Eilan said bitterly. “In our house it was always left to her to sing.”
“I think he is mistaken; but this time I will not argue, for even I must admit that he is one of our greatest bards. Dieda has a very beautiful voice, perhaps from him. Next to such a voice as your kinswoman’s we are all frogs croaking, child, so do not grieve. You can learn the stories of the gods, even if you cannot sing them as well as she; I think you will have no trouble becoming a spell singer anyway. We cannot all have the finest voices, even among the bards.”
And, indeed, Eilan was taught to sing many of the spells she had to memorize, and a few of the simpler Words of Power were confided to her, even that first year.
One day when she was being instructed in spells by Caillean, the older woman asked, “Do you remember that night after Mairi’s child was born, when I frightened away the raiders by throwing fire at them?”
“I will never forget it,” Eilan said.
“Remember I told you that you could learn to do it, if you had the proper teaching?”
Eilan nodded, her heart beginning to pound, whether with excitement or fear, she did not know.
“Well, I will teach you now. The important thing to remember is that the fire cannot harm you; you have seen me handle it, and so you know within yourself that it can be done.” She picked up the girl’s slender white fingers in her own cool ones and breathed on the palm of Eilan’s hand.
“Now,” she said, “The important thing is to trust yourself. Reach quickly into the fire, and pick up a handful of live coals; the fire can only harm you because you believe it is in the nature of fire to burn; once you know its true spiritual nature, you can handle it as you would a handful of dry leaves. Fire burns within you as it burns on the hearth. How can one flame harm another? Let the spark of life within you welcome fire!”
Eilan quailed, but it was true that she had seen Caillean do this trick; and she trusted the older woman completely. She reached towards the brazier of live coals; heat touched her face, but Caillean said firmly, “Do not hesitate — do it quickly!” And Eilan thrust her hand into the flames.
On her cheeks she could still feel heat, but to her astonishment, the coals felt like a handful of winter snow. Caillean, watching her wondering face, said, “Drop it; quickly now.” Eilan opened her fingers against a sudden blast of heat and the coals rolled on to the hearthstone. She stared at her hands in wonder.