Chapter 10
Elise was just getting used to the fresh breeze reaching more skin than usual. She had contemplated grabbing a cape, but she was determined to pass whatever test Morgaine had set for her. She walked on, keenly aware that rather more of her bosom was within grasp than she would have preferred.
Bound by fewer rules of propriety than one might have assumed at first glance, she was ready to teach any scoundrel a lesson if a hand reached where it shouldn’t.
Morgaine had given her precise instructions on how to find the apothecary. “Henrik is always there. Tell him you come with an errand from me.”
As Elise left the forest and approached the city, she found herself hoping a mirror might present itself along the way.
She knew the dress fit her well, but she had never worn anything so revealing.
The tight bodice accentuated the flesh of her hips and bosom, the fabric of the blouse too thin to offer any real privacy to her limbs.
Before long, she became aware of every inch of herself. Even the slit in the skirt seemed determined to make introductions on her behalf as she walked.
From a distance, she noticed a handsome young man coming toward her.
He was perhaps two years younger than she was, though she could not tell until he drew nearer.
Instinctively, Elise lowered her head. But even then, she felt his gaze as he passed within a pace.
Driven by curiosity, she lifted her head for a glance.
The moment her eyes met his, the handsome lad smiled at her so widely that it startled her.
It was as if he were looking at a miracle, a sack stuffed with gold in the middle of the road.
Elise could tell the young man was graced with good looks: his blond hair framed a square face with icy blue eyes.
His body was of the same persuasion, shaped with particular care; she could have admired the good composition of the lad, but she was taken aback by the expression on his face.
After that brief interaction, Elise was eager to find a mirror, a pane of glass, or any reflective surface that could tell her more of her newfound condition.
At first, she had been thrilled at the idea of coming back to the city. After two weeks in the solitude of Morgaine’s house, she was beginning to miss the sound of chatter and the simple act of walking among houses and shops. Now, however, she was not so sure.
She went around the wall surrounding Metz. The waiting line by the gate was longer than she remembered, so she was glad to have a byway. She pushed aside the bushes covering the opening and composed herself once she reached the street.
The narrow cobblestone roads tangled into alleys that served the city up and downhill, leading her soon enough to the town square.
The timber-framed houses with plastered walls and steeply pitched roofs all around Metz looked more beautiful under the sunlight.
The center of the city was more crowded than it had been the first time she had set foot here, but it was the lively atmosphere that reached even the third and fourth levels of the surrounding houses that held her attention.
Morgaine had told her to follow the upper street and turn into the one bearing the sign of Poisoner’s Alley. The city streets were divided by trades, Elise soon gathered, and she found herself wondering what other bargains took place on a street with such a name.
Murmurs from women followed Elise as she passed, along with turning heads and glances from half the crowd.
She walked briskly, as some dared to shout a few compliments and offer their company to wherever she was going.
Elise tried not to look around too much, hoping not to confirm the suspicion that she was indeed not from the city.
She held the pocket she had fastened to the outside of her skirt.
Her coins were secure, and she was already on the street with the right name.
In her haste, she noticed people trying to greet her with some familiarity, but she did not return the attention, using her long dark hair to conceal her face.
She had not yet found a mirror or the opportunity to look at herself properly, but the reaction of others had been a loud enough approximation, and with no shortage of imagination, Elise already had a good idea.
She thought of Morgaine and how she moved about with the most effortless nonchalance she had ever seen. For a moment, she wished for half her confidence, and perhaps none of its consequences.
Elise walked some more until her sight found a wooden sign hung above an old door, its chains creaking softly. A mortar and pestle had been carved into it, though time had softened the details enough to invite guesswork. She squinted her eyes and was almost sure she read the word “apothecary.”
Once inside, the dim light and the strong scent of herbs, along with other less pleasant aromas, quickly enveloped her. The place had a small receiving room for customers and was lined from floor to ceiling with shelves. She approached the counter, hoping to find someone to help her.
“Henrik?” Elise called into the space that seemed to stretch beyond the thick wooden counter, but still no one came to receive her.
Perhaps he’s not here. Better wait.
Elise set herself to the noble task of ferreting about the whole room, reading the strange names of the herbs on the shelves, moving signs, and even shaking a few jars with suspicious contents.
She left no corner untouched, and she was starting to feel that the more she poked and prodded at things, a portion of knowledge was being absorbed in the process.
Back in Noldrin, she had visited apothecaries, but this was different. She doubted any physician would search for a sane remedy in a place like this. Even the wood of the shelves looked centuries old, and it smelled no different.
She was so distracted thinking if Morgaine knew the use of all the items here that she failed to notice when a tall figure stepped behind her.
Elise was just about to stretch a scroll tucked in a dusty corner when the feeling of a strong hand settled on the side of her thigh.
There was little time to react, for the knave who had decided to make her company gave a bold press. The touch was as gentle as someone might test a ripe peach for purchase.
She froze as the voice of a man murmured in her ear, “So soon? I knew you would be back—I just imagined you’d resist longer.”
Elise’s hands tensed as she turned, prepared to use the basket in her hand to reciprocate the gesture.
“By root and stone, let strength make its home.”
She felt an immense force surge through her as she channeled it into a good whack across the cur’s head.
As the basket smacked against the tall fellow’s head, the frayed thing was reduced to little more than scraps, and the man’s large frame was sent against the far wall of the apothecary. He fell to the floor along with a dozen broken vials and scattered herbs.
Elise gasped, amazed at the effect of Morgaine’s potion and slightly worried about having done regrettable damage to the stranger. To her relief, the man was still among the living.
“Aghhh,” the man groaned.
She was ready to leave the darkness of the place when the man grumbled something that made her halt.
“Morgaine, wait!”
Morgaine?
Elise stopped at the threshold of the old door. “Henrik?”
“Yes?” he said, still on the floor, stumbling to regain his feet.
What in the heavens?
Elise’s imagination ran ahead, considering the sort of relations Morgaine might have formed with the men of Metz.
She was, at least, glad this was no lecher, but a man who had made an honest mistake.
She felt a measure of relief in realizing she was in no real danger, but merely the victim of poor lighting.
Henrik stepped closer to have a better look at Elise, and as he did, his face betrayed his surprise. “I apologize…I thought you were someone else.”
“Morgaine sent me with an errand,” Elise said.
Henrik seemed suddenly amused.
“Did she mean to play a trick on me?”
“What do you mean?”
“You two look alike, enough to give a man pause. I thought it was her for a moment.”
“I’m new in the city. My name is Elise.” She extended her hand.
“Welcome to Metz,” he said as he grasped her hand firmly.
And what a welcome this had been. If Elise had anticipated half the candor of this reception, she would have stayed by the exit door instead of offering her less guarded side.
In spite of the indignity, she could tell, even in the dimness of the room, that Henrik was a good-looking man, though it was hard to regard him with the softness she reserved for new acquaintances or to offer him her best manners.
She decided, however, to overlook their first introduction and extend her sympathies, in light of the fact that she had already repaid the candor with equal intensity.
“It’s a tough time to be in Metz,” Henrik added as she gave him the list with the ingredients Morgaine had requested. “Where are you from, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Elise hesitated, but in the end, she confessed. “Noldrin.”
“A nice town,” Henrik said, to Elise’s relief, though the kindness of the remark soon proved little more than a polite beginning to a tale that reflected a more accurate opinion of Elise’s hometown.
“My grandmother was from there,” Henrik continued. “I used to visit when I was a youngster, but even then, the people from Bromheim were not well regarded. When my grandmother died, my mother went to sell her house, but the king would not let the coin leave Falaine, so we ended up with nothing.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Elise offered, with the faint sense that if she were to carry the offenses of all the people of Falaine, someone ought at least to name her their temporary regent.
“Not your fault, dear,” Henrik chuckled. “I’m telling you so you know why people from here might not be as welcoming to Falaine folk.”
Elise retorted, “If they could manage a welcome without groping, I should be quite content.”
“You must think me a brute,” Henrik laughed. “Morgaine will hear a word or two of this, though I suspect she will enjoy it more than not.”
He went back to the counter, barely disturbed by the destruction in his shop.
His long brown hair and his green eyes seemed to Elise the more interesting.
A rough man this was. He remained calm and polite despite their previous engagements.
His relaxed demeanor quickly made her feel at ease.
Curiosity proved persuasive as always, and Elise found herself trying to learn more about her mentor.
“Have you known Morgaine for a while, I presume?” Elise asked, studying Henrik, who was busy reaching for some roots from a high shelf.
He laughed. “You could say that.”
She thought of asking if he was aware Morgaine was a witch, but the response seemed already obvious.
“Did you grow up with her?” Elise asked carefully.
Henrik turned to her with a crooked smile and a raised brow. “If I had a copper for every time I’ve tried to ask her anything about her life, I would be retired by now!”
Elise smiled.
She stayed there for some time while Henrik wrapped the herbs, roots, and powders in paper and handed them to her. He even offered another basket for her to take and apologized once more, but Elise had already forgiven the inconvenience and accepted only a small satchel to carry her purchase.
“How much do I owe you?” Elise asked.
Henrik was staring at her with a smirk, likely still thinking of Morgaine. Then he shook his head. “Tell Morgaine that this one is on the house, but next time she should come see me herself.”
Elise wondered just how often this type of affair between Henrik and Morgaine was conducted.
She did not entertain the thought for long, deciding it was best not to know how the witch secured her favors.
It was no surprise Morgaine lived among so much gold and silver.
Elise had found her new protector, but what a mentor she had chosen.
She was about to leave when the scent of tiny white flowers pricked her nose. She drew nearer to have a better look.
“What are these?” Elise asked.
“You have a good eye,” Henrik said, crossing the counter to join her. “These are Heartblooms. They are only available during spring, and I am told they are widely regarded as the main ingredient in love potions.”
“Love potions?”
Elise immediately gathered that the famed potion had to be one of the three Morgaine had spoken of as the most commonly used.
“How much for a dram?”
“Take a handful as a sign of my apology.”
“Thank you.”