Glasswrights' Master (28 page)

She reached the fork in the waterway, and she chose the left branch. She could smell the sharp otria beside her. The riverbed turned to the north, and she followed it easily. The moon had risen now, high enough that she could make her way without difficulty. She could smell the spruce trees around her.

There! That fallen tree was new since the last time she had walked beside the Greenbank. Something about it seemed wrong, out of place. She crossed it quickly and made her way past the stony tumble of an abandoned huntsman's cottage.

She should almost be there now.… She should be able to see something, something indicating that a northern woman was camping beside the waterway.… She should–

“Halt!” The command was quiet in the night-time, but sharp enough that there could be no doubt of its serious intent. Kella blinked, and she made out glinting steel in a soldier's hand. “Who disturbs the forest's sleep?”

“It is I,” Kella said, casting back her hood. “Kella Herb Witch. I come to see Jalina and Mite.” She swallowed and added their true names. “Mareka and Marekanoran.”

There was a whispered consultation between two guards, and one slipped through the underbrush that grew down to the river. It was not supposed to be like this, Kella thought. She was supposed to have saved much money from her labors. She was supposed to have turned the northern soldiers in the Great Clearing, used them to her own advantage.

Kella was the one who had been turned, though. She was the one who had been changed by her encounters with all the strangers in her world.

Once, it had been simple. She had known how to use her herbs. She had known the rights of a handsel, and she had known her own obligations, and she had lived by both. Crestman had destroyed all that, though, with his wicked hands and his long, sharp blade.

Maybe things would be different when Kella was through. The northerners would leave. The Fellowship would leave. They would take the gift that she had left for them, take Rani Trader, and all would be as before. All would be peaceful, and quiet, and the same.

In the time that Kella had been thinking, Jalina's guards had come to some decision. The first one, the one who had challenged her, held his post. The other led her up the riverbank, took her behind a massive clump of tree roots. He knocked once on a carefully concealed door, and then he stepped back.

Jalina answered the door herself, as if she were a common woman, as if she were no queen. “Kella!”

She held a candle in her hand, a fine beeswax taper, and its golden light softened her dark hair. She was tiny, Kella thought. No wonder she'd had such trouble bearing a child, bearing a living son.

“Good even,” Kella said, and her voice was as gruff as ever.

“What brings you here? How did you find me?”

“I'm an herb witch, aren't I? I know my forest.” If Jalina was surprised, she managed to hide it. “I've come to check on the little one. How is Mite?”

“He's fine,” Jalina said, her surprise melting into puzzlement. “Why wouldn't he be?”

“He's sleeping well?” Kella asked, momentarily dodging the question.

“Yes. The moonbane works. That is, he's not sleeping through the night yet, but he's still so young.” A note of concern shimmered through Jalina's pride. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing serious.” Kella heard the lie in the back of her head, spoke it without
hesitation. “Sometimes, though, the benefits of moonbane pass. Some children grow more restless than
before they drank the herb. The problem can be especially acute with early boys. If they do not
sleep, they fail to grow properly. They start to fuss during the day, and they stop taking
milk.…” She trailed off suggestively.

“Well, he has been difficult the past few days. I thought that was just a phase.”

Kella nodded grimly at the young mother's blossoming concern. A phase. Every baby had them. If Mite had not been fussy, then Kella would have suggested something else–that he was fixing his eyes on one moving point, or he was failing to clap his hands together. She would have snared Jalina. She would have gotten to Mite somehow.

She needed to. Her life depended on it.

She shook her head. She hadn't much time, but she must not push the young mother too hard. “I've brought something for him. It's a gentle tisane. Actually, truth be told, it's mostly mint, but it has a little something more. It will settle him down, put him right to sleep.”

Jalina looked to the blanket before her hearth, to the child who was holding onto his own feet and cooing. “If you think it's necessary,” she said doubtfully. “I'll give it to him tonight.”

“As long as I'm here, I can brew it myself.” Kella produced the four packets from her skirts. “There's a bit of a trick to the mixing. Order is important, you know.”

“I– Well.…” Kella could see the indecision; she knew that Jalina's common sense told her to ignore the witch, to protect her baby. Kella also knew that Mite would not have lived this long, not without the herb witch's earlier potions.

And Jalina seemed to remember that last point on her own. “Go ahead,” she said. “Mix the potion.”

Kella nodded, doing all she could to make her old eyes sympathetic. “Come sit with me by the fire. Talk to me while I work.”

Jalina came to the fireside, pulling up a low stool while she watched the witch. “What is that?” she asked, as Kella opened the first of the herb packets.

“Powdered dara bark.”

“What does it do?”

“It brings deep sleep,” Kella said. And she wasn't completely lying.

“And that?” Jalina watched as Kella measured out the second powder, stirring it into the first with a quartet of fast, whipping strokes.

“Pollen from the ataline flower.”

Jalina shook her head, as if Kella were muttering gibberish. “And what will it add?”

“It regulates the heart. Makes for sounder sleep.” Again, that was the literal truth.

Jalina did not ask about the last two elements, mint and something else. Instead, she watched Kella's mixing in silence, observing as the herb witch poured the combination from one cup to another, once, twice, three times, four. Jalina's attention was half-snagged by the child who played on her hearth; she crossed to the blanket and gathered up her son.

When Kella had finished preparing the potion, Jalina stared at her with dark, earnest eyes. “Explain again why this is necessary.”

Kella thought about the true answer. She might explain about the soldier man, about the murder that she had seen in Crestman's eyes when he caught her beneath her white banner, about the demands that he had made, about how he had threatened Kella's own life if she did not do as he instructed. She might tell how she had realized that she could never stay in Sarmonia, how the Sisters would never trust her, never let her bind another handsel for all the rest of her days. She might say how she was tired, so tired, how she had never intended for everything to spin so far out of control.

But she had not created all the webs of deceit on her own. Jalina was responsible for her own actions. The young mother had sought aid from Kella under false pretenses. Jalina had come to the forest pretending to be someone she was not, masquerading as a common woman, an ordinary mother hoping to bear a healthy son.

Kella might have refused to help Jalina if she'd known the truth! She might have refused to be drawn into the tangle of northerners, into their conflicting alliances. It was all well and good for Kella to have passed time with her traveling man, but she had never bargained on Crestman, on the sobbing Father Siritalanu, on Rani Trader.

Jalina should have told the truth. The lies invalidated the handsel! Jalina was responsible for what was about to happen. Jalina had made it come to pass.

Kella raised her eyes, met the mother's troubled gaze. “It will help your son to sleep,” she said. “It will complement the moonbane that we gave him before. Here. You give him a swallow. Place it on his lips. Let him lick it. The mint tastes good. The potion is sweet.”

Jalina still hung back. “I'm just not sure.… He hasn't truly had any problems sleeping, no more than any boy his age.”

“But is his sleep deep? Is it what he needs to grow into a strong and healthy man?”

“I –”

“This is truly a mild physic,” Kella said, lapsing into her scolding voice. “If you fear so much for your son, then you should drink some first. Here. Leave a swallow or two for the boy, but test it, if you will.”

Kella held out the cup. Inside, she rejoiced that Jalina had made it easier for her. Kella would not have to find a ruse to make the mother drink after the child. “Go ahead. You'll see how harmless it is.”

Jalina took the cup. She sniffed it, and then she touched it delicately with the tip of her tongue. “It doesn't burn,” she said, as she swirled the liquid.

“Why should it?”

“I was taught that poisons burn. Long ago, in the guildhall where I was raised.”

Kella smiled tightly. “And why would I poison you? You must not be sleeping well yourself, if those are the sorts of tales you're telling. Go ahead. Drink. Just save a swallow for the boy.”

Jalina raised the cup to her lips.

Kella knew that she could stop the young mother. She could knock the cup from Jalina's hands. She could send it flying across the room, let the deadly drink seep into the earthen floor. She could cry out and startle Jalina, make the liquid spill down the front of her dress.

But Kella did nothing. She watched Jalina lift the cup. She watched the woman's throat bob, once, twice, three times, four. She watched Jalina cross to the hearth, pick up her son. She watched Jalina poison Mite.

Only when the cup was empty did Kella permit herself a smile. “You'll feel tired soon enough. The herbs will make your limbs grow heavy.” Jalina nodded, and her eyes were slow to raise from blinking. So soon? Well, Kella had permitted herself an extra portion of dara bark, confident that the sharp flavor would be masked by mint. “Why don't you lie down by the fire? I'll watch over you until you're sound asleep.”

“I–” Jalina said, shaking her head in apparent confusion. “The guards…”

“I'll talk to the guards when I leave. I'll tell them not to disturb you.”

“I am … sleepy.” So fast, Kella thought. She would not have believed the herbs could work so fast. But then Jalina was a very small woman. A very small woman who had been under a great deal of stress. And Mite likely had
no
t let her sleep well, many of these past nights.

Kella flicked her gaze to the boy where he lay cradled in his mother's arm. His mouth was still pursed, as if he hoped for more of the sweet, minty tea. Already, his breathing had slowed. Already, Kella had to blink hard to see his swaddling clothes rise at all.

The witch leaned over and took the child from Jalina. “Lie down, now, Jalina. Lie down and rest.”

“Mmmm,” Jalina said, and her forehead creased into a frown. “Give me back my baby.”

“Certainly,” Kella said, leaning forward to tuck the boy beside his mother. She could not see him breathing now, could see no sign of life.

“Marekanoran!” Jalina whispered, but she seemed unable to raise a hand to her son's face, unable to move the child in any way.

“Sleep,” Kella crooned. “Sleep and all will be well.”

For Kella, in any case. She heard the scuffle before she had a chance to gather up her herb packets.

“My lady!” A man called, nerves tightening his voice.

So soon! The Fellowship must have sent its notice to the northerners, let them know that Rani Trader was captured. The news had naturally heightened concern for the Morenian queen.

Kella glanced around the earthen room, knowing there would be no means of escape. Why hadn't she made her way through the forest with more speed? Why hadn't she pushed to arrive at Jalina's earlier? Cursed Speaking! Why had Tovin's games taken so long?

“Your Majesty!” another man called. The door crashed open. “My lady!” a soldier cried, one of the leather clad ones, one who was staying in the Great Clearing. He took the scene in immediately, bellowing his rage as he saw his still queen, the lifeless child.

He whirled on Kella, and his sword clattered from its sheath. She fought to still her gasping breaths, to keep her breastbone from the point of his weapon. Even as he threatened her, he wailed, “What have you done?”

“Peace,” she said. “I'm nothing but an herb witch.”

What had she done? The only thing she could. She had acted to save herself. She had followed Crestman's orders, hoped that he would honor his promise, that he would spare her life, let her live in peace. Peace.… She spoke to the soldier in a voice that was meant to calm. “They are at peace now.”

“You've murdered them!”

“I've eased them on their journey. They felt no pain. They are in no danger now.”

“You'll die for this, witch! The king of all Morenia will see you drawn and quartered.”

“I've done what I needed to do,” Kella said, holding fast to the words.

She was not surprised when other soldiers streamed into the room. She was not surprised when they felt for Jalina's pulse, when they touched the babe. She was not surprised when they pushed her to her knees, when they pulled her hands behind her back, when they lashed her wrists together.

But she was surprised–for just an instant–when she saw the knife rise high. She was startled by the firelight flashing on the metal. She was cowed by the sharpness of the edge, reflecting in the room. And she was overwhelmed by the brilliant burst of stars that spread behind her eyes as the pommel struck hard behind her ear.

 

 

 

Chapter 12

 

Rani lay on the floor in Kella's cottage, trying to count the hours that had passed. Eight, had it been? Nine? Long enough for the sun to set and for deep night to envelop the room.