They said a hasty thank-you to Douglas and rushed to Uisgeliath’s hut. She had obviously been expecting both of them, as there were already three steaming mugs of mulled wine on an old oak table. She gestured to the brothers to sit down.
“Last night I questioned my ghosts, and they agreed to accompany you to see Beathas,” she told them. “She is the village’s eldest. Nobody knows how old she really is. She has just always been here.” She took a sip of wine. “You must know by now that our people have many secrets. We have often been hunted, caught, or threatened. That is why our ancestors found it necessary to create a secret place for our history to be safely kept. Beathas is the warden.”
She drained her cup and motioned for the brothers to do the same.
“We should get on our way immediately.”
Uisgeliath wrapped a woolen cloak around her shoulders and led them out of the village. She walked silently in front of them, moving so smoothly she almost seemed to float over the rocky ground. Looking neither left nor right, she seemed to find her way easily. When they reached the coast at the north of the island, Uisgeliath ordered them into a small rowboat. It rocked and lurched and almost sank completely under the weight of the three of them.
Although Uisgeliath seemed so delicate and small, she insisted on rowing. With powerful strokes, she navigated the boat into the current a short way from the coast. Then she pulled in the oars and let the current take over for several minutes.
As if pulled by an invisible hand, the boat steered directly toward a dark spot on the rocky coast. They could see a split in the rocks, a crack that looked narrow from outside but that widened inside to a large and very dark cave, and Uisgeliath took up rowing again. They could hear only the swishing of the water and the echo of the oars dipping, dripping, and dipping again.
Uisgeliath lit a lantern. The light reflected eerily from the damp walls of the cave, creating dancing shadows on the rocks. Again and again, the cave branched out, until it became an underground labyrinth. Payton hoped the white-haired woman knew the depths of the island well. He was close to losing his own sense of direction entirely.
Neither Payton nor Blair had any idea how long they had been traveling through the dark passages, but when the water became shallower and ended in an oval basin, they got out of the boat. They no longer needed the lantern, as a bright light shone before them. They stepped across sparkling turquoise stones into a large templelike dome. Separated rays of sunshine reached the ground through tiny holes in the ceiling.
Uisgeliath stopped.
“Here we are. I will wait at the boat. Beathas is expecting you.”
And, as if on cue, an ancient lady came toward them. Beathas’s skin was white as paper, almost translucent. But despite her obviously advanced age, she was standing upright and looking them up and down with bright, alert eyes.
“Latha math,” she said politely. “Good day. I have been expecting you. Please follow me.”
Beathas went ahead of them. They crossed through the large room and ducked down through a low archway. A library was certainly not something Payton had expected to find in a sea cave, yet there it was. Illuminated by rows of neatly placed candles were countless rows of books and bound papers. A large table, with chairs around it, filled the center of the room. A book was open on the table.
She invited them to sit down and pushed the book to Payton.
“Here is everything that is left of Vanora. It isn’t much, but I think you will find what you are looking for here. I wish you the best of luck.”
Payton started to ask the old woman a question, but she shook her head before he could utter another word.
“I can’t help you. You must find out the truth yourself.”
Then she disappeared through the arched door. The two brothers looked at each other for a moment.
Payton didn’t want to waste any time. He bent over the book with focus, trying to make out the old words. The first pages appeared to be Vanora’s family tree. Then there was something written by her father recounting the day that his daughter was taken from the island together with the other seven girls. He only glanced at this entry. That wasn’t what he needed.
“Somewhere in these papers, there has to be something about the curse,” Payton murmured.
Their courage faded with every page until they came to a collection of old letters, all signed by Vanora. The first letters described her arrival at the castle of her kidnapper and of his hope that she would use her powers as a weapon against his neighbors. She wrote that she certainly did not intend to do as he wished, and she swore she’d never show him how powerful she really was.
In the next letters, she seemed discouraged. She had suffered terrible punishment for claiming to have no powers. And she had heard of a plan to lock her in a tower until she did what the chieftain wanted her to do. Then there were no letters for a very long time. Payton guessed that she didn’t have the chance to write when she was imprisoned in the tower.