Chapter XVII

What does it sayMab demanded.I hesitated, but I was thinking fast. Mam's sisters? What sort of sisters slept in trunks like these? And how long had they been there? Since Mam came to the County and married Dad all those years ago? She must have brought her sisters back with her from Greece! And I'd seen something very much like this before, back in Anglezarke. Lamias. There were two kinds of lamia witches-the domestic and the feral. The first category had been like Meg Skelton, the Spook's true love: identical to a human woman but for a line of green and yellow scales running the length of her back. The second type were like Meg's sister, Marcia: They scuttled about on four limbs, were covered in scales, and drank blood. Some could even fly short distances. Could it be that Mam was a lamia, domestic and benign? After all, Greece was the homeland of Meg and Marcia, too. The feral Marcia had been returned home in a coffin so as not to terrify the other passengers on the boat-the Spook had used a potion to make her sleep on the journey. He'd used the same potion to make Meg sleep for months at a time.Then I remembered how Mam used to go up to her special room once a month. She went alone, and I never asked what she did there. Had she been talking to her sisters, then putting them back to sleep in some way? I felt pretty sure that they must be feral lamias. Perhaps the two of them together would be a match for Mab and the other Mouldheels.

"Come on, I'm waiting!" Mab snapped. "My patience is running out fast."It says that the other trunks can only be opened in moonlight and that I must turn the key."Does it say what's inside?"No hint at all, Mab," I lied. "But it must be something special and more valuable than what we've already found in this trunk. Otherwise they wouldn't be more difficult to get into."Mab looked at me suspiciously, so I kept talking to distract her. "What happened to the other, smaller boxes that were in Mam's room?" I demanded. There had been lots of other boxes, all taken by the witches who'd raided the farm."Oh, them. Heard they were full of rubbish -cheap brooches and ornaments, that's all. The Malkins shared em out among their clan." I shook my head sadly. "That's not right. They belonged to me. I had a right to see them."Just feel lucky that you're still alive," Mab said."Will you let Alice and my family go now?" I pressed her."I'll think about it."Jack's ill -he must have help. They need a horse and cart to get him to a doctor as quickly as possible. If he dies, I'll never open the trunks for you. Come on, Mab, keep your word. You've already got one trunk, and I'll open the other two tonight, as soon as the moon comes up. Please."

Mab stared hard into my eyes for a moment, then turned to her sisters. "Go and tell the others to let them go."Jennet and Beth hesitated."He needs that cart, Mab. He can't walk," I persisted.Mab nodded. "Then he shall have it. Just see that you keep your word. Go on, jump to it!" she snapped, turning to her sisters. "And tell 'em to hurry those masons up!" "Masons?" I asked as Beth and Jennet left to do their sister's bidding."Masons to fix the wall. The Malkins are finished here. This tower belongs to us now. Times have changed. We rule Pendle now!"Within an hour a team of four masons had arrived and set to repairing the wall. The men seemed nervous and were clearly working under duress. They obviously wanted to get the job over and done with as quickly as possible and displayed great strength, energy, and dexterity in heaving the heavy stones back into position.Others from the clan went down the steps under orders to secure the lower regions of the tower.

They were soon back, reporting that, as expected, the Malkins had left the lower dungeons and escaped through the tunnel. Mab gave orders for guards to stay down there on watch. When the Malkins found out that the soldiers had left the vicinity, they might try to return.Before nightfall the breach in the wall had been repaired, but Mab had one more job for the masons. She made them carry the two heavy locked trunks up the narrow steps and onto the battlements above. That done, they left hurriedly, and the drawbridge was lowered, sealing us within the tower.In addition to Mab and her sisters there were another ten witches, who made up the numbers of the coven. But there were also four older -women, whose job was to cook and carry for the rest. They made a thin potato and carrot soup, and despite the fact that the members of a -witch clan had made it, I accepted a plateful. But fearing poison or some potion that would place me under Mab's control, I checked that it was ladled from the same cooking pot as everyone else's. When they had started, I dunked bread into it and began to eat.After supper I would have liked to start sorting through Mam's trunk, but Mab would have none of it and ordered me to keep away.

"You'll get your fill of them trunks before you're finished," she told me. "Months it's going to take you, to translate all those books." Soon after sunset, carrying a lantern, Mab led me up toward the battlements, Beth and Jennet at my heels. At the top of the steps we passed into another room with a wooden floor, in which the mechanism for controlling the drawbridge was housed. It consisted of a large wooden capstan wheel with a system of -wooden cogs and gears and a ratchet attached to a chain. Turning the -wheel would wrap the chain around it and raise the bridge.Beyond that we emerged onto the flagged battlements, which provided a good view on all sides. Pendle Hill rose high above the trees of Crow Wood and, because of the meadowland between the tower and the edge of those encircling trees, nobody could approach unseen. The gunners had gone off to war and now the tower was in the hands of the Mouldheels, theoretically unassailable. But then I glanced toward the trunks. Little did they know what waited within.As it grew dark, the lantern seemed to grow brighter. I knew that the moon would already be above the horizon, but there -was a stiff breeze from the west, driving low rainclouds across the sky. It might be some time before moonlight fell upon the trunks, if at all."Looks like rain, Mab," I told her. "Might have to wait until tomorrow night."

Mab sniffed the air and shook her head. "Moon'll show its face soon enough," she said. "Until then, we'll wait up here."I stared out into the darkness, listening to the distant whine of the wind through the trees, thinking of all that had happened in the few days since we'd reached Pendle. Where was the Spook now? And what could he hope to do against the power of the witch clans? Poor Father Stocks was dead, and my master couldn't hope to shift the Mouldheels from Malkin Tower alone, never mind deal with the others-especially the Malkins. And I needed to talk to the Spook about the existence of Wurmalde, who was a real puzzle. How did she fit into the complex society of the Pendle witches? She'd talked about taking revenge on Mam, but what exactly was she trying to achieve in Pendle?I glanced at Mab, who was staring up at the night sky. "You've done well, Mab," I flattered her, hoping to get her talking so that I could learn more about what we faced. "You've beaten the Malkins. And even with the help of the Deanes, they'll never be able to get you out of this tower. It's yours forever now."It's been a long time coming," Mab agreed, looking at me a little suspiciously. "But I saw my chance and I made it happen. With your help, Tom. We're a good team, me and you, don't you think?"I wasn't sure what she was driving at. She couldn't be taking a shine to me. Not me, a Spook's apprentice. No, it had to be fascination and glamour she was trying to use on me.

I decided to ignore her and change the subject."What do you know of Wurmalde?" I asked."Wurmalde!" Mab said, spitting onto the flags. "She's nothing but an incomer. A meddler, she is, and the first who'll get bad things happening to her. I'll sort her."But why would she come here when she's not from one of the clans? What does she want?"She's a loner. Don't come from a good witch clan herself, so attaches herself to others. And for some reason she wants to be in this county and to raise the power of the dark-to strike out at you and your mam, I think. She's mentioned your mam; really seems to hate her for some reason."I think they knew each other back in Greece," I said."Your mam a witch?" Mab asked me directly."Of course not," I said, but I wasn't convincing myself, let alone Mab. Powers, potions, bone buttons and now two feral lamia "sisters." I was starting to believe deep down that my mother was indeed a lamia witch -a benign, domesticated one, but a witch nonetheless."You sure about that?" asked Mab. "Just seems to me that Wurmalde's pretty interested in the power of your mam's trunks, and your mam seems to have been very clever at stopping anyone from getting into them. How could she do that if she wasn't a witch?"I ignored her."Don't worry," Mab teased. "Nothing to be ashamed of, being related to a witch." "My mother's not a witch," I protested."So you say, dearie," she said, making it obvious she didn't believe a word of it.