The Pool of Two Moons Read Online Free

formidable. I would no' like to fight ye hand-to-hand if ye used those the way a hawk does. And ye could attack from above, which gives ye an advantage."
    "How can I attack from above when I canna fly?" Bacaiche flapped his wings derisively so Iseult's red curls were blown away from her face. "Ye think these wings are o' any use to me except to make me a prisoner o'
    my own body? I, the Prionnsa Lachlan Owein MacCu-inn, son o' Parteta the Brave and direct descendant o' Aedan Whitelock, am called uile-bheist and monster. I am hunted down like a coney by my own brother's soldiers, forced to live as a fugitive! Ye think I would no' like to be able to strike back?
    Ye think I do no' long to dance with a sword like ye do?"
    "I can teach ye," Iseult began.
    With a snarl, Bacaiche had jerked away, wrapping the cloak around him again. "Teach a cripple, Iseult? I thought ye despised the weak and deformed. I thought ye believed helpless cripples should be left out for your blaygird Gods o' White?" Without waiting for an answer, he had lurched off into the darkness, Iseult flushing with anger and shame. It was true, weak or disfigured babies were exposed by the Prides, and those crippled by war or accident pitied and scorned. She was sorry Bacaiche knew it. The next morning he had limped off into the forest as soon as they had finished their porridge. Frowning, Iseult had washed herself and the dishes in the burn that ran brown and sun-speckled through the trees. The stone-crowned head of the high, green hill was framed between the branches of a massive moss-draped tree. At the sight of it, serenity swept through her. What does it matter if the bad-tempered, hunchbacked fool is angry and will no' speak with me? He means nothing to me anyway . . .
    Meghan was sitting cross-legged on the ground, pulling a myriad of strange objects out of the small black pouch she held in her lap. Her donbeag, Gita, scurried back and forth, carrying what he could to lay in various mounds on the turf.
    "Magic pouch," Meghan explained. "It was woven for a MacBrann by one o' the oldest and cleverest o'
    the nyx. It's a bottomless bag—very useful for moving house or escaping unexpected attacks. Unfortunately, ye must take things out in the same order that ye put them in, and so retrieving anything can be a nuisance."
    As the wood witch spoke, Iseult helped the donbeag sort everything into piles, marveling at some of the extraordinary things Meghan had decided to include. A smith's hammer and chisel were followed by a broken arrow fletched with white feathers, and then by a wedding veil of lace so old Iseult was afraid it might crumble in her hands. There were beautifully woven plaids in blues and greens, red running through like a line of fire, while a dark-brown globe perched unsteadily on top of the tall pile of books. Iseult picked the sphere up by its ornate stand and spun it. "Where are we?" Meghan, without pausing in her unpacking, gently floated the globe out of the girl's hands and down onto the grass. "It is no' a globe o' our world," she said reprovingly. "That is one o' only two globes from the Other World, and it is irreplaceable. I keep it in the pouch so that time will no' touch it. Please take great care with my treasures, Iseult. Many o' them I saved from fire and treachery and I would no' like ye to damage them now."
    She indicated one of the heavy books, dark with age, with a heavily embossed cover. "That is one o' the great treasures o' the Coven, and I came near death saving it from the Banrigh. It is The Book o'
    Shadows, and it contains much lore and history, and many great and powerful spells. Now we are safe at Tulachna Celeste, I shall begin teaching ye and Lachlan again."
    "More magic?" Iseult asked eagerly.
    Meghan nodded, but said, "Ye and Lachlan have much else ye must learn as well. Alchemy and geography and history, among other things. Ye're both ignorant indeed!" At the old witch's words, Iseult sat back on her heels. Her jaw