Daughter of the Witcher Ch. 04

But that was yesterday.

Today, ... somehow, Gilbert had awoken inside a changed body. That body was as male as it had been all of his life until now. The difference was that now Gilbert wasn't a man as he was, a human creature who had been born as a male of the species and a man by virtue of his having reached an age sufficiently old to merit the use of the word by convention.

Today, ... now, Gilbert's body was a man's by virtue of its appearance alone, and as such, it suffered from the same things which he'd escaped or perhaps been a little exempt from before. However much – or little, as the case may be – it took to run that body before, well that was what this body would burn while it was only sleeping.

This body needed fuel and its reminders to its owner were insistent.

Gilbert ate.

He ate everything, right down to gnawing on a raw turnip as though it was an apple.

Because that's what it took to assuage the hunger that he felt. He even smiled a little ruefully to himself as he remembered his mother's voice in his mind once when she said to her neighbor, "Ach, a man's like a goat. If he's hungry enough, he'll eat anything."

Now he knew why.

The girls awoke in a little longer than an hour and they patiently explained that all that had been done to Gilbert was the removal of the limiting boundary which he'd set for himself as far as his body went.

"This has always been the way that you should have looked, Gilbert. But you believed your father when he belittled you, telling you that you would always be weak. As you stand now, you are more than three times more strong in anything than your father excepting his love of falsehood, distrust and guile. In those things, he has few equals."

Màiri smiled a little as she went on, "Mark you this, friend. From this day, you will need to eat far more because that body will demand it. As well, you will need to use what you have and not let it go large and soft. Now you are ready to begin all of the learning with less of the pain of building your body, since it stands here already built."

She laughed a little as she trailed her fingers over his abdomen.

"It makes me a little sad," she said, "We were told to await word from the laird and we dare not be elsewhere when it arrives. We must away to my father's house again. I think that you might feel a little more thankful to your two witchgirls, Gilbert. We will want to teach you other things and arts. There will be a lot of laughter and joy in our lessons together – but all the same, it has a purpose and witchgirls have the same needs as any others, and a few special ones as well.

Can we have your agreement, Gilbert? To give to us when we want you and to give to us when we need you for our rites? We have already given much and there is more to come. Rather than continue to feel bound and helplessly owing to us, let us agree on what will come. What say you?"

Gilbert nodded and said his thanks again and added his agreement and in a little while, the three set off back to Ranald's home once more with Gilbert happy to have two friends in them. They made the return journey with no incident and Gilbert's time was quickly taken up learning as much of the beginnings of fighting, sword work and most of all riding as they could all teach him.

It was still only just the beginnings of his learning, but he did startle all three of them with his desire to learn and the rate that he could absorb everything that was thrown at him.

Ranald was truly tired after two long days at it and Gilbert was exhausted. But though he trembled with fatigue and soreness, he showed nothing of it. From his point of view, he now had a purpose and he'd embrace it if they were trying this hard for him.

He saw it as the least that he could do for what they'd done for him.

------------------------

Two days later, there was a message sent with instructions from the laird to come to a large home a few miles distant, so they packed up a little and went.

What they found were other people – plenty of them milling around and among them all was the Laird Ciar himself. He summoned several of them, including Màiri, Beathag and Ranald to join him.

Most of the others looked a little rough and none of them knew much about the witches in their midst, but the old man called things to order and began to speak.

"Most of you here, the men at any rate, have ridden south to even things with the English," he said. "And if there is one thing that may be said of them, it is that they are thorough. Every man here, along with one woman, has a price on his or her head to the south of here.

What I want from you is that you ride the border as the first line of the clan's defense. If you find English who seek to cross for the purpose of raiding, you are to kill them. In this way, the back and forth of it will stop – given enough dead Englishmen. I offer pay for this as I can.

I seek a hundred men for this and the life will be hard, moving often. So you will be Clan Ciar's rangers to protect the clan as you can."

He went on at length in the way of all influential men and by the time that he asked for a show of hands, the laird was down to sixty-odd riders, along with their wives and families. As the talk went on, Ranald sought to have a word with the laird when there was a little time. When he came back, his expression was grim.

"While he still calls me 'my old friend', the laird said that you asked to serve him and so your task is to do this with no choice in it. I think your little show the other afternoon did a little more harm than good," he said, "From it, it was learned that you carry power and that causes any man who holds power himself to be nervous. It was also seen that you can read things from people and most people, Màiri, do not like the thought of it. He asks for men who could come forward to do what he asks, but this choice is not offered to you or Beathag. This is what he orders that you do. I do not know, but I think that he hopes that you would be killed one day soon and it would solve another of his 'little problems' – what to do about Màiri Ciar."

Even though this was very close to what she'd seen in the goblet of water and the river mist several nights before, Màiri sat in shock for a time, but as the minutes passed, she sat quietly glowering from under her eyebrows. Her thoughts turned to something unpleasant but to do it would only cause her to be hunted on both sides of the border. Her view of leaders in general took a turn for the worse from it.

She sat quietly until a hopeful man stood up to ask who would be leading them. Seeing all that she needed to and before anyone could reply, Màiri got to her feet and said, "I will."

It brought a laugh from the man and he asked what qualities she had which might recommend her to it.

"It is simple," she said, "How many men have you slain?"

He looked a little nonplussed for a moment; "Well, I can't truly say. It's not something that I keep a count of," he smiled as he looked around at the men who laughed along boisterously. He was about to go on, but Màiri stated what she knew at that point.

"You lie," she said, "You do keep a count but say nothing. You have killed four men who were fighters, three old men who did nothing but beg you for their lives and two boys, aged about fourteen. I will not say the number of women."

She looked around the large room. "To do this, we will need to stay alive as we hunt and it is my aim to keep us on that path. I see women of the clan here as well, so I would know how many can ride.

I have killed six men in less than two minutes and I have killed one warlock. I have killed no farmers, no boys and I have harmed no women. You cannot say as much.

I will need the help of some who are canny in the riding of the paths around the border country, but I will lead. Any who ride with me will be taught words of protection from simple magic. For anything worse, you will have me."

"Oh, I can help you when you feel so lost, dear. You need have no fear of that," he leered a little for the laughter of the others like him.

"I have no fear," she replied evenly in a voice which carried over the noise of the group. She raised her hand toward him in a quick grasping motion.

"See here," the man began, but his eyes rolled back in his head the next moment and then he fell to the floor.

The people near him stared at the body in shock. One moment, he'd been hale and hearty - if a drunken braggart and lout when he was in his cups, and the next, he lay dead with blood seeping from his ears.

They looked back at the beautiful woman at the front of the hall who stood with a smile which looked more like an unspoken challenge.

She bore an expression there on her face which looked like quiet confidence more than anything.

"Seven men and one warlock," Màiri said as she nodded once.

"And I will lead."