Mire

Chapter 11

A few weeks later the senior class was ordered to fetch their night clothes and gather in the largest classroom. When we heard this we burst into confused whispers. We had never been allowed into the classrooms after sunset. We grabbed our nightdresses and lingered in the corridor until one of the teachers shouted at us for blocking the hallway. We reluctantly pushed the door open, and our confusion grew worse.

Eighteen mattresses were lying on the floor – one for each of us. Dahra was standing in the middle of the circle with three of the old women and another Siren who we did not recognise. There was a serving table along one wall stacked with rags, towels, pitchers of water and chipped clay bowls. We gathered by the doorway in our nervous clot, staring around with wide eyes.

One of the old women muttered something, and Dahra smirked back. The crone only had one tooth left in her shrivelled mouth.

"Pick a bed, put on your nightdresses and sit down." Dahra ordered us. We shuffled forwards. She cleared her throat, and we scuttled faster. I chose the bed farthest away from the door. I stripped, dragged my nightshirt on and sat down. The room was cold, but the bed had no blanket. I wrapped my arms around my knees.

Dahra turned around slowly, making sure that every girl in the circle was watching her.

"The idiots outside the island call us witches. They hear the word potion and think that we whisper incantation over brandy. You're right to laugh! It's not true. We use seeds, mushrooms, sap and venom. Each combination does something different. A single misjudged measure can mean the difference between euphoria and death." her eyes grew dark. "You've all seen what a single mistake can do."

We nodded. The silence was so thick it was hard to breathe. Dahra smiled.

"There is no magic in our arts. Chanting will not make the potions stronger. Praying and pleading will not make them less dangerous. They are all exactly as they are made to be." she reached into her pocket and drew out a silk bag. "You need to know exactly what will happen when you use these drugs. You need to know how a drugged man feels, so that you can comfort him or laugh with him. You need to know how they twist your mind, so that even if you take them you can stay alert."

She pulled a clay vial out of the bag and un-stoppered it. A strong smell of honey flooded the room. We all sighed at the lovely scent and then choked back the sound when Dahra looked around at us. She clearly wanted one of us to volunteer, but nobody made eye contact with her. The woman glared at me. I assume she took my cowardice as a personal slight. She stalked over to me and raised my chin with her sharp fingernails. She pinched my nose until I was forced to swallow. The liquid was so sweet that it burned my throat.

The other apprentices stared at me. I think they expected me to start twitching, as Harriet had. Instead, a wonderful feeling started drifting through my body. I raised my hands. It was as if I could see the potion being carried through every vein. Whenever it reached the ends of my fingers it tickled. I laughed giddily and lay back. A fly was buzzing around the ceiling. I stared at it for so long that I felt like I was flying, too. Then I was back in the river, rocking and swaying in my coffin as it bore me through sunlight and moonlight, snow and apple blossom until I took a deep breath and sank down into the sky.

The fresh air turned into putrid smoke. I groaned and twisted onto my side, but I threw up before I made it to the clay bowl they had given me. The candlelight burned my eyes and I squeezed them shut. I could hear other people vomiting nearby.

The servants brought us food at sunrise. None of us could bear to eat it. The women waved toast

in front of our noses and cackled when we vomited up stinging bile. When the bell chimed for the first lesson of the new day, Dahra returned with another glass bottle. Some of the girls started to sob.