the fifth knot,” I explained while Sarah continued her examination. “Weavers use it to cast spells to overcome challenges or heighten experiences.”
“The pentacle represents the five elements.” Sarah tapped my palm where the brown, yellow, blue, and red streaks twined together. “Here are the four colors that traditionally represent earth, air, water, and fire. And the green on your thumb is associated with the goddess—the goddess as mother in particular.”
“Your hand is a magical primer, Diana,” Vivian observed, “with the four elements, the pentacle, and the goddess all inscribed on it. It’s everything a witch needs to work the craft.”
“And this must be the tenth knot.” Sarah gently released my right hand to take up my left. She studied the loop around the pulse at my wrist. “It looks like the symbol on the flag flying over Sept Tours.”
“It is. Not all weavers can make the tenth knot, even though it looks so simple.” I took a deep breath. “It’s the knot of creation. And destruction.”
Sarah closed my fingers into a fist and folded her own hand around mine. She and Vivian exchanged a worried look.
“Why is one of my fingers missing a color?” I asked, suddenly uneasy.
“Let’s talk about that tomorrow,” Sarah said. “It’s late. And it’s been a long evening.”
“We should get these kids into bed.” Abby climbed to her feet, careful not to disturb her daughter. “Wait until the rest of the coven hears that Diana can make new spells. Cassie and Lydia will have a fit.”
“We can’t tell the coven.” Sarah said firmly. “Not until we figure out what it all means.”
“Diana really is awfully shiny,” Abby pointed out. “I didn’t notice it before, but even the humans are going to see it.”
“I was wearing a disguising spell. I can cast another.” One glimpse of Matthew’s forbidding expression had me hastily adding, “I wouldn’t wear it at home, of course.”
“Disguising spell or no, the O’Neils are bound to know something is going on,” Vivian said.
Caleb looked somber. “We don’t have to inform the whole coven, Sarah, but we can’t keep everybody in the dark either. We should choose who to tell and what to tell them.”
“It will be far harder to explain Diana’s pregnancy than it will be to come up with a good reason for her shimmering,” Sarah said, stating the obvious. “She’s just starting to show, but with twins the pregnancy is going to be impossible to ignore very soon.”
“Which is exactly why we need to be completely honest,” Abby argued. “Witches can smell a half truth just as easily as a lie.”
“This will be a test of the coven’s loyalty and open-mindedness,” Caleb said thoughtfully.
“And if we fail this test?” Sarah asked.
“That would divide us forever,” he replied.
“Maybe we should leave.” I’d experienced what such divisiveness could do firsthand, and I still had nightmares about what had happened in Scotland when witch turned against witch and the Berwick trials began. I didn’t want to be responsible for destroying the Madison coven, forcing people to uproot themselves from houses and farms their families had owned for generations.
“Vivian?” Caleb turned to the coven’s leader.
“The decision should be left to Sarah,” Vivian said.
“Once I would have believed that all this weaving business should be shared. But I’ve seen witches do terrible things to each other, and I’m not talking solely about Emily.” Sarah glanced in my direction but didn’t elaborate.
“I can keep Corra indoors—mostly. I can even avoid going into town. But I’m not going to be able to hide my differences forever, no matter how good my disguising spell,” I warned the assembled witches.
“I realize that,” Vivian said calmly. “But this isn’t just a test—it’s an opportunity. When witches set out to destroy the weavers those many years ago, we lost more than lives. We lost bloodlines, expertise, knowledge—all because we feared a power we didn’t understand. This is our chance to begin again.”
“‘For storms will rage and oceans roar,’” I whispered.
“‘When Gabriel stands on sea and shore.
And as he blows his wondrous horn,
Old worlds die and new be born.’”
Were we in the midst of just such a change?
“Where did you learn that?” Sarah’s voice was sharp.
“Goody Alsop shared it with me. It was her teacher’s prophecy—Mother Ursula.”
“I know whose prophecy it is, Diana,” Sarah said. “Mother Ursula was a famous cunning woman and a powerful seer.”
“She was?” I wondered why Goody Alsop hadn’t told me.
“Yes, she was. For a historian you really are appallingly ignorant of witches’ lore,” Sarah replied.