The sentry didn’t give them a second glance as he passed, even though one was wearing a rusty old bonnet, and another had shiny black button-up boots. As soon as he was gone there was another flurry, and the witches returned to normal.
‘You’ve got that down to a fine art,’ the young witch said approvingly. ‘Mother said you were experts.’ Seeing a blank expression float across all three faces, she stood up and gave a little curtsey. ‘I’m sorry. I thought you knew. I’m Moona Gristle . . . Mother Gristle’s oldest. And I must say, I do like your hailing technique.’ She nodded at the tallest witch. ‘That death and destruction thing is truly wonderful, Mother Morgue.’
‘Are you suggesting mine isn’t?’ The witch with the bonnet sounded offended. ‘I was much admired at last year’s Blackford Hill Cauldron Fest.’
Moona hastened to repair her mistake. ‘No, no, Mother Venom . . . you sounded very scary. And as for Mother Dismal – heavens above!’ She lifted her hands in admiration. ‘What can I say?’
Mother Dismal gave her a suspicious glance, but said nothing.
‘So to what, exactly, do we owe the honour of this visit?’ Mother Morgue enquired.
‘Well . . . ’ Moona sat down again. ‘I’ve sort of brought a message from Mother.’ This was not strictly true, but Moona felt it was in the interests of her new and exciting job to stretch the truth a little. Or even a lot. ‘Did you know that the Wise One on Salisbury Crags is looking for an assistant?’ She hesitated, then added, ‘All expenses paid. Food and lodging provided. Ability to fly unseen essential.’
There was a long and significant pause. Each of the other three witches was well aware of this fact. Edinburgh was a small place, and Word of Crow and Cry of Cat never failed to spread any news at a remarkable speed amongst the witches, warlocks, magicians and sorcerers who lived or lurked in and around the city. Word of Crow had been particularly noisy recently; several of the elderly warlocks and magicians had put in a formal complaint. Their peaceful retirement, they wrote, was being severely interrupted. The sorcerers were mostly deaf, so hadn’t noticed.
Mother Dismal was the first to break the silence. ‘Actually,’ she said carefully, ‘I had heard something to that effect. ’
‘Me too,’ said Mother Venom. ‘As it happens. Can’t remember who it was who told me, though. And of course, I couldn’t be more interested . . . I mean LESS interested.’ She began to look flustered. ‘I mean, working for a Wise One? La di da! The very idea!’
Mother Morgue gave her colleagues a piercing look. ‘How long have you known?’ she asked sharply, and then added, ‘my dear friends.’ Her tone suggested that friends they were not, unless their replies were extremely satisfactory.
Moona saved the two witches from answering. ‘So you DO know!’ She clapped her hands and beamed. ‘That’s wonderful! So are you thinking of applying?’ She put her head on one side, and gave a girlish giggle. ‘What fun. He’s asking anyone who’s interested to come and see him tomorrow after sunset. Mother says he does an awful lot of good works, but then I’m quite sure you do too . . . from time to time.’
Again there was a silence. It was very clear that Moona was not going to get any further response, and she picked up her broomstick. ‘I’d better be off. Lots of love, and I’ll leave you to talk among yourselves. See you soon!’ And she soared up into the midnight sky.
Read the rest of Vivian French’s magical adventure in Our City, now available.
Visit www.ourcitybook.org.uk to find out more about the authors, and how you can your hands on a signed copy of the book!
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