University of Nevada, Reno An Ye Harm None A thesis submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Arts in English by Linda Kay Hardie Dr. Susan Palwick/Thesis Advisor May, 2009 © 2009 Linda Kay Hardie All Rights Reserved. THE GRADUATE SCHOOL University ofNevada. Reno ~t.l.wld •• Wofldwld~ We recommend that the thesis prepared under our supervision by LINDA KAY HARDIE entitled An Ye Harm None be accepted in partial fulfillment ofthe requirements for the degree of MASTER OF ARTS Susan Palwick, Ph.D., Advisor Christopher Coake, M.F.A., Committee Member Victoria Follette, Ph.D., Graduate School Representative Marsha H. Read, Ph. D., Associate Dean, Graduate School May, 2009 i Abstract for An Ye Harm None by Linda Kay Hardie In this novel, Kestrel, a Wiccan woman whose mundane name is Karen, is searching for home and love after growing up in a rootless military family. She begins to find acceptance in Reno’s pagan community and in local volunteer activities. Kes becomes friends with Becky, an evangelical Christian new to Northern Nevada, and the two come to terms with each other’s religion. Meanwhile, Kes, fresh from two borderline-abusive relationships, enters into a relationship with Dark, a fellow pagan respected in the community, who has childhood issues of his own. The novel explores themes of friendship, religion, community, and domestic violence. ii Dedication: To Mom, for the support. To Jack, for the encouragement. iii “Do as ye will, an ye harm none” Wiccan Rede “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you” Christian Golden Rule 1 Chapter One The energy vampires loved large gatherings, so Kestrel had wrapped a protection spell around herself before leaving home that morning. That simple bit of magick wouldn’t be enough to protect her from Alastair’s anger, but Alastair had said he wasn’t going to come, that he was through with Kestrel and the whole pagan community. Still, sitting at her table at the fair, Kes felt a slight foreboding. She knew from experience that trouble was headed her way. A tickle in the back of her mind told her that Alastair wasn’t through with her, no matter what he’d said. Kestrel shook her head. She’d learned to trust her intuition, to trust “feelings” and pay attention to what she used to call omens or superstition. Since she’d begun practicing the Craft she’d discovered that the Goddess often lets us know what’s coming, gives us hints to prepare, if only we pay attention. Still, this bad feeling she had could mean any other kind of trouble. It could be that what she felt was just a freak afternoon thunderstorm on its way, something Reno occasionally had, where clouds appear out of nowhere and release a torrent of rain. That would be a disaster to everyone here today. The gathering ozone of an approaching summer storm would put Kestrel’s nerves on edge, just like wild magickal energy. Kes hadn’t noticed any specific signs pointing to trouble for her personally, but the signs weren’t always clear. There was never any way of telling how Pagan Pride Day would play out. This year’s PPD was held along the Truckee River, in Idlewild Park. One thing Kes loved about Reno was its abundance of parks – and Idlewild was one of the prettiest, 2 a triangle of grass, trees, and ponds, with a playground for kids, a building for indoor events, a pool, ball fields, and lots of shaded grassy areas. The pagan event had started early, with some people arriving at seven to set up their tables and booths. Others arrived at nine, when the festival was due to start. Kestrel had a table at which to sell the candles, herb mixtures, amulets, incense, and oils she made as a kitchen witch. Being a witch was her religion and her avocation; her vocation, her mundane job, was working at the downtown branch of the Washoe County Library, where she was known as Karen Stockton. The weather was perfect for the event, sunny and not-too-hot for a late September day in Northern Nevada. They’d opened the event at 9:45 a.m. with a circle ritual (it was scheduled for nine, so Kes figured it was held right on time – for people whose watches were set to Pagan Standard Time). Kes hoped there would be a decent turnout and that everyone would be happy with her. As a way to get involved in the Community, Kes had volunteered to do publicity. She’d sent press releases to the daily newspaper and the weekly alternative paper, but those only put a small blurb in the calendar sections, next to all the other fall events in the area: Boy Scout jamborees, a Basque festival, whatever. She sent public service announcements to the radio stations, to the people she knew when she used to work in broadcasting, but PSAs were not the priority they used to be, not in these days after radio deregulation. Still, the idea was to get the pagan community together. And Idlewild was always a popular park, so there would be some foot traffic, especially since there was a dog event 3 going on at the pool nearby – it was something to do with lots of dogs splashing around in the water. A couple of young women stopped at Kes’ table. They were in full Goth regalia: tight black blouses, short black skirts, black tights – artfully torn – heavy black boots, black makeup (eye shadow, lipstick, and fingernail polish), with hair an obviously dyed, artificial-looking black. Kes couldn’t estimate their ages. She was thirty-nine; these days, anyone under thirty looked Young (with a capital Y) to her. But these girls must be over 18, because one was wearing a UNR class ring – with a black stone, of course. Ring-girl giggled. “Is this, like, the pagan thing?” Kes revised her age estimate down. The university ring on her thumb must belong to her older brother or boyfriend. These girls couldn’t be more than sixteen, seventeen. She smiled broadly. “Yes, it is.” “So everyone here’s a witch?” the other girl asked, in a low voice. “You don’t have to whisper,” Kes said. “We know we’re witches. I’m a Wiccan. These are the amulets and other crafts I make as a kitchen witch.” The girls looked at each other. “Do you have any love spells?” one asked. As far as Kes could tell, the university ring on this girl’s finger was pretty much the only difference between the two. “I don’t believe in love spells. I think they’re a form of manipulation, and my religion forbids controlling anyone against their will.” “Oh.” The girls lost interest in Kes’ items. “Let’s go talk to that guy.” Ring-girl 4 grinned and nodded toward the Magickal Spirit booth, where River was selling ritual items from his store. He was young and good looking, Kes thought, but she smiled to think of the girls flirting with him. River would be more interested in the brother she had imagined for Ring-girl. An older woman, maybe in her early thirties, stepped up. She had a cocker spaniel on a leash. “Hi, I couldn’t help overhearing. You’re really a witch? Is this some sort of coven or something?” Kes smiled again. “This is called Pagan Pride Day. It’s a chance for us to show that we’re just regular people who practice a different religion. Our local event is part of a national day to publicize neopagan religions and to provide a way for our pagan communities to come together in a public show of solidarity.” But solidarity, Kes thought, has as much meaning for people calling themselves neopagans as it does for people calling themselves Christian. She and other Wiccans made up only a small percentage of Northern Nevada’s pagan community. There were several Alexandrian and Dianic Wiccan covens and a handful of solitaries, but most of the local pagans were ceremonial magicians, druids, or Norse traditionalists, many of whom didn’t necessarily follow the Wiccan Rede, the basic rule: “Do as ye will, an ye harm none.” There were also some Discordian traditionalists, people who worshiped chaos and discord, believing that disorder was the natural state of the universe. The woman nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing. “What does it mean to be a witch? Are all of you in a coven?” 5 Kes shook her head. “No. I’m a solitary, which means I practice alone. There are a number of covens in Northern Nevada, and there are other groups that get together for the sabbats, the holy days.” “And that’s when you dance naked and do sacrifices to the devil? Even with ‘freedom of religion’ you’re not allowed to do human sacrifices, right?” Kes sighed. “We don’t believe in any such thing as the devil. We believe in personal responsibility. If I do something ‘bad’ or ‘evil,’ it’s my own fault. We worship the spirit of the Earth in all Her forms. Blood sacrifices are used for black magick, and most pagans don’t do that, because of the Three-Fold Rule; we believe that everything you do – good or bad – comes back to you three times.” The heavy crease between the woman’s eyebrows was starting to ease. She reached out to pick up one of Kes’ candles. “I thought it was something like that, but when I heard about this on the radio, my brother said it was a bunch of satanists trying to recruit new members for sacrifices.