Jenny: The Old Ways

"I don't see why not," replied Caleb. Beside him, the boy bobbed as he chewed at his mutton. His only misgivings toward her playing was the threat, however slim, of harp-magic. He had seen the North Isles women spell men under their notes, and freeze them there like so many frightened deer; he could remember, faintly and with a little chill, that cool smile of dominion on the harper's face just before she let off the enchantment. But looking round at Ambrosius, and Artos at his right hand, he could not imagine even Aithne being clever enough to spell them. They could scent such things a mile off. All would be safe, and he did not seriously think Aithne could do such a thing.