Merlin's Harp Read Online Free

the courtyard.
      I said, "I see ghosts."
      "You have power too. Very certainly, you have power, and will have more."
      "Will I grow up magic?"
      "I see you growing up powerful. You are Nimway's daughter, after all."
      "I wish I knew my father."
      "You Fey do not need fathers, Niv."
      "How did you know your father?"
      "We used to run off to the woods to see him. Always near midsummer time, when the Goddess smiles and Humans forget to scowl." Merlin handed me the finished whistle. "What does this wood tell your hands?"
      My small hands cradled the thrush-whistle. "It says, Rain…" I pressed it to my cheek. "It loves rain, Merlin, and sun…but something's been eating it. It doesn't feel good."
      "That's why I cut that branch out."
      "But it's still alive."
      "Not for long. See, you can watch the aura fade."
      In truth, the faint green aura faded a bit farther as I watched.
      A shadow moved over my head. I felt the Lady's vibrant presence behind me. Merlin said to her, "Small Niviene has power."
    She murmured, "Naturally. She, at least, is mine."
      After this, Merlin and the Lady trained me daily. Mage children learn the warts-off spell first of all, because it works so easily. I didn't know what warts were, but I learned the spell; and when Lugh next paddled home across the lake, amazingly, he had warts, and I cured them myself.
      I learned to scry, first in water, then in fire. Soon I could scry all of Apple Island in a bowl of water: where basket reeds were thickest; how ripe were the beechnuts; in what bramble thicket a rabbit hid. I learned to cast a veil of silver mist around myself to keep wolf or bear at a distance. I learned to rub and warm my palms and set kindling on fire. ("You set a fire only in a fireplace," the Lady reminded me often. Even Fey children often play with fire.)
      I learned, also, that Lugh could do none of these things. "Not even warts?"
      "Not even warts, Niv. I've just got no magic."
      Lugh had other gifts, Human-type gifts of body, heart, and energy. When he found me playing idly with an adder friend, he hurled a stone and killed it. No talk. No questions. Just action.
      I looked up, surprised, slowly angering. "Why?"
      "Don't you know these are poisonous?" He held the still-writhing corpse by its tail-tip. "Gods, he's as long as my arm! You don't play with these fellows, Niv."
      "I do." I knew how to get along with them.
      "Not any more. I'll tell."
      "Hah! Go ahead. Tell. The Lady doesn't mind."
      But Merlin did. "That's called tempting the Gods. A good thing it is that you can deal with adders and do not fear them. But there is no need to court them."
      Merlin leaned and took my small face in gentle hands. "You are here in the world for some reason, Niviene. Use your power and knowledge to protect yourself, not to take foolish risks."
      I growled, "I'll give Lugh warts for telling on me!"
      Merlin's smile smoothed my threat away. "Be glad that you, alone among the Fey, have a brother who loves you."

    * * *

    Humans think all Fey are small folk. That used to be true, back before Fey and Human blood mixed—so said the Lady. Now, we Fey are still small by Human standards, but not as small as Humans think. I believe it is the Children's Guard that keeps this myth alive.
      A Human daring an edge of forest at dusk or dawn may glimpse a small, charcoal-painted face; a small hand may threaten with a poisoned dart. Before the Human's startled eyes, face and hand vanish in the swirl of an invisible cloak. The Human stands staring, hair stiff on head, neck, arms, and legs.
      If he continues to stare, he may get a poisoned dart in the throat. That ends that story. If he retreats swiftly, he may tell the story at his home fire, or in the village tavern. "Little, it was," he may whisper, glancing about him, still fearful. "No bigger than my young Tommy, mark me." And some wiser man informs him, "That's but natural.