The Witches of Eileanan by Kate Forsyth

taught many useful skills.
"I would have had lessons in magic?"
"Ye would have been taught mathematics, history, alchemy, and the auld languages," Seychella replied briskly. "Also astronomy and anatomy."
Isabeau began to think the Theurgia would not have been much fun after all. "But what about magic?"
"Ye need to understand the laws o' nature and the universe before ye can start comprehending the One Power," the witch answered sternly, before smiling with unexpected charm. "Do no' look so downcast, my bairn. Ye would have learned to call on your Power and been taught various different ways o' using it, but indeed, I feel ye've learned as much, if no' more, from Meghan anyway. We o' the Coven believe in a long apprenticeship—it is no' until after the Second Test of Power and acceptance into the Coven as an apprentice that the real lessons in witchcraft begin."
It was true that Isabeau had learned many Skills from just watching Meghan. The One Power was not easy to master. Meghan said many people lived all their life without realizing they had any power at all, while sometimes a Skill remained undiscovered, merely because no one had ever thought of applying the One Power in such a way.
All day Isabeau tried to call the wind, but could not even manage to lift a leaf off the ground or flutter the anemones on their long stalks. At last she gave up in anger and frustration, vowing to ask Seychella to call up the wind again so she could divine the trick of it. In the meantime, she let Seychella instruct her in the art of ahdayeh, and found the black-haired witch a much more exacting teacher than Meghan.
Later that day Isabeau was digging for roots and vegetables for their evening meal when she suddenly became aware that she was being watched. Again she was filthy and covered in sweat, since Meghan would never allow her to plant the seeds in a neat, orderly row like other gardens Isabeau had seen. All of their food was grown scattered through the forest so that no sign of cultivation would indicate to any stray intruder that people lived nearby. Isabeau had therefore been scrounging around in the forest undergrowth for the better part of an hour, trying desperately to remember where she had planted the potatoes.
The feeling began as an irritable prickling on the back of her neck. Isabeau rubbed at it with her grubby hand, and continued digging with her small wooden spade. The sensation intensified, and Isabeau suddenly swung around. An old man sat on a log behind her. A stray beam of sunlight fell through the branches and he sat in its light, so at first he was almost invisible in its dazzle. Everything about him was old and frail. His face was a mass of wrinkles; his pale scalp showed clearly through the thin, white hair, and the hand holding a carved staff was gnarled as a bird's claw. His straggly beard was so long it flowed over his knees, trailing in the leaves of the forest floor. In the trees above him a raven sat, regarding Isabeau with bright eyes.
"So this is the bairn Meghan discovered on the mountain," the old man said. Isabeau wanted badly to protest her maturity, but something held her silent. She was glad a moment later when the man continued in his faded voice, "A bairn no longer, it seems. How auld are ye, lassie?"
"Sixteen tomorrow," Isabeau replied gravely.
"Time then to take your Test," the old man said.
Isabeau's heart leaped, but still she said nothing, sitting back on her heels and gazing at the old man as he gazed at her. With a shock, Isabeau realized the old man was blind, his eyes glazed over with a white film.
"I am Jorge the Seer," the old man said. "I have come a long way for ye, Isabeau the Foundling. Come kneel afore me."
Isabeau's surprise and wonder were so great she could not say a word. Obediently she crossed the clearing and knelt in the dust before the white-haired man. She felt bony fingers on her hair, then Jorge was holding her head, his thumbs together in the middle of Isabeau's forehead.