The Dark Amulet Collection

Chapter 5

Sheldrake was a mage. His wife, Maud, was a shape-changer. They lived in a large, thatched cottage, grandly named Batian House, surrounded by an idyllic cottage garden, situated less idyllically, on the main road out of Highkington, the capital of Carrador. Behind the cottage lay stables and a working farmyard that opened onto paddocks stretching to distant bushland. All day long and most of the night, carts, carriages, horses and pedestrians passed within fifty yards of Sheldrake and Maud’s front door. After a festival, the sounds of wheels, hooves and feet would be compounded by voices raised in song, chatter and argument.

For years, Sheldrake and Maud Batian had considered growing a hedge to deaden the noise, but firstly they were proud of their garden and liked to give passers-by the chance to admire it and secondly, they watched with interest the parade of life that passed along the road. They would often sit out in their front garden and wave to people they knew. Sometimes one or the other of them would lean on the front gate and exchange words with people, friends and strangers alike, as they passed, not letting on for a moment that their interest was as professional as it was friendly.

But not tonight.

On this cold, dark, rainy night, no one was travelling past their front gate and so did not hear the screams that issued from the idyllic cottage. Maud was giving birth.

Tall and spare, Sheldrake generally tried, often unsuccessfully, to appear phlegmatic. Right now, he paced the corridor outside, firmly banished from the bedchamber by his wife and their head groom, Beth, who was assisting with the delivery. Clive, their butler, trod heavily up the stairs, bearing a crystal decanter filled with a particularly fine whisky and one glass on a fine silver tray.

Sheldrake frowned in irritation at the tray. “Clive, you can’t expect me to drink alone. I need moral support. Go back and get a glass for yourself.”

Clive placed the tray on a small inlaid table, then grinned as he withdrew a second glass from his pocket, with a slight flourish. “One must be prepared for all eventualities, sir.”

Sheldrake gave a snort of laughter. “Good man.” He ran his hand over his immaculately neat black hair. “This is the most harrowing experience of my life. I had no idea Maud had such a loud voice…or would have to endure such pain.”

Just as he was taking a filled glass from the tray, another scream rent the air, making his hand shake so much he nearly dropped it. Clive’s big hand came down on his shoulder. “Easy does it, sir. She’ll be all right. My Beth’s in there looking after her and she’s birthed hundreds.”

“But Maud is not a horse.”

“That’s right, sir. Not at the moment,” said Clive in a calm, comfortable voice. He gave a reminiscent smile, “Eh, but she’s a fine galloper when she is, though. Isn’t she, sir?”

Sheldrake gave a reluctant smile. “Yes she is. But she is her true human form now, just as she must be, to give birth, and I don’t know that Beth has as much experience with people.”

“Don’t you worry, sir. Animals are all much the same. It will be fine,” Clive said, just as he would to any child, dog, or horse in distress.

On the other side of the door, Maud lay on a heavily carved four-poster double bed, her long, dark brown hair in a tangled halo across the pillows, her teeth clenched as another wave of pain began its crescendo. As the contraction reached its peak, Maud opened her mouth and howled.

“That’s it, pet. One last push. The baby’s coming.” A thin, dried up woman in her fifties knelt on the floor at the foot of the bed, the head of the baby already in her hands. She wasn’t a healer, at least not primarily, but she’d brought hundreds of foals, lambs and calves into the world and she had known for months that this baby would be a boy. “That’s it,” she said, as the baby gushed forth into the world. “You’ve done it. Good girl.”

For long moments, tense silence filled the room before healthy little lungs bellowed in distress at the sudden change in circumstances. Both women smiled, tears of relief in their eyes. Beth tied and cut the umbilical cord, then gently wiped the child over with a soft damp cloth before wrapping him in a warm blanket and handing him to his waiting mother. Once Beth had tidied away the afterbirth and straightened the bed covers, she opened the door and beckoned Sheldrake to enter.

“Come and meet your new son, sir.”

Sheldrake nearly catapulted into the room in his eagerness to see his wife and new child. Clive was close behind him, relieved despite his calming words. Sheldrake sat on the edge of the bed and together, he and Maud looked fondly down at the bright pink, scrunched up face of their first born, marvelling at the little nose and mouth and the perfect tiny fingers.

Then the child opened his eyes.

Sheldrake froze. Maud gasped in horror.

“What is it?” asked Clive urgently.

“His eyes,” breathed Maud. “They’re white.”

Sheldrake frowned and leaned closer. After a close inspection, he shook his head. “No. They are not white. The pupils are black and the irises are a very pale lavender… hmm… but they look white.”

“Can he see?” demanded Clive.

Beth intervened. “A new baby’s vision is blurry anyway. He can’t focus or track yet. So you probably won’t be able to tell for a few weeks. He will be trying to focus on you, Maud, but if he turns his head to you, he could be just following your voice or the sound of your movement at the moment.” She shrugged. “Most babies have bluey coloured eyes at birth and then often the colour changes. So maybe his will, too.”

Even as they watched, the seemingly white eyes darkened to a faint lavender as the light reacted with the melanin in his irises, but they were still unnaturally pale.

Beth shrugged. “A small change often happens the first time the light hits their eyes, but you won’t know his final eye colour for months yet.”

Maud gave a strained smile. “Never mind. I will love him anyway. He is perfect in every other way.”

But Sheldrake knew what she feared. “Don’t worry, my love. The merit of a person is not determined by his eye colour. My grandmother’s morals would have been just as bad, had she had blue or brown eyes.”

“But the power, Sheldrake.”

Sheldrake grimaced. “Yes, dear. Madison was powerful, but I do not know that any direct link was made between her eye colour and her particular powers. Besides, we too are powerful. So I think we can assume that our son will inherit at least some degree of magical ability, don’t you? It would be stranger if he did not.”

“But will he be able to manage it? Will he use it justly?”

“That will be up to us to determine, don’t you think?” Sheldrake looked at Beth and Clive, before adding, “All of us.”