Siebold - Lee Savino Page 0,2

to the magic that would eat me alive. They gave me to the madness, the mind rot that was both punishment and my only companion.

That time was long gone. But now, because of her, I remembered.

I shut my eyes and willed the buzzing madness to return.

3

Meadhan

The market started on the edge of the village and covered a large field. My stall was right along the forest edge, where few liked to tread. It suited me just fine. My customers preferred privacy when they sought me.

They darted between the animal pens and hustled my way, heads down and gaze sweeping left and right. Only when they’re sure no one they knew was watching did they scuttle forward, ducking into the frame I’d covered in woven branches to make a covered tent.

“Mistress?” A man with graying hairs and a meek expression appeared beside my stall. He glanced this way and that before leaning close to whisper, “Last week you gave my wife some herbs. They were black, like mushrooms. They helped with… a problem she had.”

I suppressed my smile and rooted out the herbs in question, a bundle of black ginger, native to lands far east where I lived in my youth. They do not like the soil here, but my power bids them to push through the soil each year.

I murmured the price. The older man handed over the fee without protest. I did smile at his back when he walked away. His wife was a lucky woman.

As the sun climbed higher, more villagers dared walk by me. Two girls lingered at my table, giggling and whispering to each other while I portioned herbs for a heavily pregnant woman. When my pregnant customer toddled off, I turned to the girls. I recognized them.

“Alys and Eira, greetings.”

“Hello, Mistress.” The girls blushed when I called them by name. One unlinked her arm from her friend and picked up a bottle of infused honey.

"Is it true this will make a boy love me?”

I smiled. The girls were no longer giggling.

"There is no such thing as a love potion,” I lied. "But there are many ways to a man’s heart.”

Their eyes grew wider in their faces as they leaned further in. I heard the jingle of the coins in their pockets. Coins that would soon be in my hand.

“Make a man honey cakes and he might find reason to woo you,” I told them.

Alys pushed her coins towards me, her gaze fixed on the herbs.

“Alys, Eira!” A male voice snapped. “Do your mothers know where you are?”

The girls shrank before the burly, bare-pated man in priest’s robes who bustled up to my stall. Under the table, I made a ward sign against evil. Ironic, considering the priest thought I was the evil.

“No, Father Gerald.” The girls backed away from my stall and began to slink off.

“Wait,” I grabbed the jar of honey and rounded the table to approach Alys. “You forgot your purchase.”

Alys shook her head quickly and fled. Father Gerald smirked at me. “She doesn’t want it.”

“Here,” I held the jar out to him and felt satisfaction as his eyes widened. “Take it.”

“I have no need of anything you brew,” he sputtered, backing away as if I’d offered him an adder. He lifted his robes and marched away, chin in air.

“It’s a donation,” I called after him. “For the poor.”

“What’s this, then?” A round, red-faced woman hustled up. Unlike the others who slunk, she did not lower her voice. “Mistress Meadhan, how kind of you to donate your goods to the needy.”

“Mistress Donna,” I dipped my head in greeting and she did the same. Then she looked in the direction of the retreating priest and sniffed. “Something stinks around here.”

“Yes, I believe that’s Father Gerald,” I didn’t bother to lower my voice, either. “He disapproves of bathing. Believes it’s a sin.”

“I’d be more tolerant of his beliefs if he kept a good distance away.”

I bit back a smile.

With a final sniff, Mistress Donna briskly changed the subject. “You have the herbs for me?”

“Yes.” I handed her a full basket and her cheeks grew redder and rounder in pleasure.

“Good, good. There’s many women whose lives have been saved by your brews. I’ll hear nothing against them.”

“Thank you,” I murmured. “But I have done nothing out of the ordinary.”

Mistress Donna met my gaze sharply. She understood the danger of being a wise woman, a daughter of Hecate who stood in the doorway between death and life. Some people would be in awe of our gifts, but