Chapter III.26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Two Days Before the Wedding, Continued
Adaline stiffened, but Miria relaxed, even as she threw on her tunic. As anxious as she was, the ward being tripped had caught her off guard for a second, but it wasn’t an alarm. The wards knew who had tripped them and were welcoming, and Miria allowed herself to feel hopeful.
“It’s all right,” she assured Adaline, as she crossed the cottage, belting her tunic in place.
In the interest of time, she cast a spell to pull her unruly hair into a sensible braid around her head, then after some reluctance (she liked Adaline’s hair down), she did the same for Adaline.
Adaline let out a yelp of surprise and patted her head.
Once they were more or less presentable, Miria opened the cottage door.
Three witches stood outside, including Sarel, the witch who’d performed Miria’s initiation, and Nalki.
Miria had not seen either of them since Yali’s funeral, but she’d corresponded with Nalki semi-regularly since then.
The blonde witch was older than Sarel, and she seemed to have taken it on herself to continue providing Miria with some irregularly timed but gentle guidance.
Although it was no replacement for her nana, Miria did not mind the mothering, especially since Nalki was an excellent cook and liked to share recipes in her letters.
The third witch had been examining the wards on the trees, and she turned at the sound of the door opening.
She was the only one of the three unfamiliar to Miria, with dark skin and gray hair she wore shorn close to her head.
Miria had never seen a woman—witch or otherwise—with hair so short before, but it suited her.
“Sisters.” Miria inclined her head. “You received my message?”
“We did,” Sarel confirmed. “And it was concerning.”
Miria motioned for them to come inside.
Adaline was tending to her forgotten pie. She regarded the other women warily but curtsied with all the grace of her upbringing.
“This is my friend, Lady Adaline of Waeremund, Lord Sigmun’s niece,” Miria said, figuring the abbreviated but formal introduction might make Adaline feel more comfortable.
The witches seemed to find Miria’s description of her relationship with Adaline amusing, though none of them quite smiled.
Sarel inclined her head. “Lady Adaline. You may call me Sarel, and this is Nalki,” she motioned to the blonde witch, “and Dinia.”
The dark-skinned witch—Dinia—nodded. “Your message was brief, and I suspect there is much more we need to discuss. It’s near dinner time, so we’ve brought food. Let’s talk while we eat.”
Miria hadn’t noticed the time before, but with Dinia’s words her stomach acknowledged it. “We have some rabbits roasting outside to contribute and a pie in need of baking.”
“I don’t know if the pie will be any good,” Adaline said nervously. “I’ve never made one before.”
Nalki laughed. “No need to worry, m’lady. We have enough food between the lot of us for twice as many people. Witches never do a thing without food. It makes every task more tolerable.”
Adaline grinned. “That, I agree with. Perhaps I should find Tuli and put this pie in the oven then?”
“You mentioned a charm in your message,” Sarel said once everyone had been seated and food had been passed around. “Start at the beginning and tell us everything.”
Miria swallowed the rosemary and onion bread she’d been eating and considered.
Where was the beginning? Was it when she’d concocted her plan to stop the wedding with Adaline?
When she’d first started learning about the mysterious illness plaguing the town’s children?
Or further back—when her father had traded her to Yali for a wish spell that had put this moment into motion?
In the end, Miria decided to start there.
She half expected when she finished that the other witches would scold her for wanting vengeance on her family or for meddling in Adaline’s life at all. She definitely did not expect Nalki to moan in despair.
“This is my fault,” the blonde witch said, burying her face in her hands. “She was my apprentice.”
“Your apprentice?” Miria cringed, hoping her tone didn’t come out accusatory. She was caught off guard, but Rosmilda had said she’d been taught by a witch. There was no reason to expect that Miria wouldn’t have met that witch.
Dinia patted Nalki on the shoulder. “You did nothing wrong, lovely. Apprentices fail all the time.”
“They do?” Miria clasped a hand over her mouth in the vain hope that she could stop asking silly questions. Her nana had never made it sound like failure was an option. Miria could have given up and quit before her initiation, but she could not have failed to be offered initiation.
“All the time might be a bit of hyperbole.” Sarel cast a fond glance at Dinia over Nalki’s lowered head.
“We try to choose the children we take on carefully, but it certainly happens on occasion. And usually that is the end of it. We help the girl settle somewhere safe and her power fades. By the time she’s your age, it is gone. ”
Nalki raised her head and drew a deep breath. “Lival—what did you say she goes by now? Oh, yes, Rosmilda. I believe that was the name given by her mother; she went by Lival as my apprentice. She was always a very clever girl. That ought to have been my first warning, and I ignored it.”
“Being clever is a bad thing for a girl?” Adaline had remained quiet until now, but she looked indignant.
“Well, no. Not generally. I’m stating it badly.
” Nalki cupped her wine but did not raise the goblet to drink.
“It was the way she was clever—always looking for shortcuts, less concerned with consequences than with outcomes. I thought her cleverness was an asset in spite of these tendencies, so I ignored them. I was convinced I could train the negative aspects out of her. But as she grew older, they only became stronger. She was convinced of her own superiority and believed she deserved more power. She always wanted more, and I finally had to admit that she would never be content with the life we were offering. She would not use magic to better the world unless it bettered her own situation. It made her a danger.”
“That is exactly what she’s been using magic for,” Miria said. “Bettering her own situation with no care for the others she harms in the process. How did she learn to steal power like that?”
Nalki shook her head. “I don’t know. I didn’t know it was possible myself.”
Sarel also seemed unsure, but Dinia templed her fingers.
“Rosmilda is not the first false witch I’ve encountered, though seeing as this is the first I’ve learned of her in these many years, she’s covered her tracks the best. People can easily overlook and ignore so-called coincidences and good luck when they benefit those who smile broadly in public.
Everyone wants to believe that they, too, can be the person who wildly changes their fortune.
It gives them hope, so they don’t question when it happens to others who they mistakenly believe deserve it.
It’s the false witches who reach too far, too quickly, too overtly cruelly that draw attention to themselves sooner.
This Rosmilda has been as clever as Nakli describes to avoid detection. ”
A memory flashed through Miria’s mind, of Yali speaking to her father the day he’d traded her away. A man who overreaches loses his balance and will fall to his doom one day.
She fidgeted in her seat. This was all well and good. Miria was glad to have answers at last, but the hour was running late. She needed a plan and to know whether the other witches would help. Being reminded of her father brought her intentions back to the front of her mind.
“Adaline is supposed to marry my brother in two days,” Miria said. “Rosmilda plans another attack here tomorrow. With your help, we can prevent both of these coming to pass. Tonight—we can stop her.”
The three other witches glanced among themselves, and Miria already knew she would not like their response before Sarel spoke. “We will help ensure Rosmilda is brought to justice for what she’s done to the children she’s harmed. We owe the community that since it’s our fault they’re hurting.”
“My fault,” Nalki interrupted, and Dinia laid a hand over hers.
“We are connected in this, a community.” Sarel cast a glance at the witch next to her, but her attention remained focused on Miria.
“But Lady Adaline’s marriage and your vengeance, while we understand why you feel like you do, it’s not our place to be involved.
Do what you will. We won’t stop you. But Rosmilda is the focus of our work. ”
That was fine, mostly. For a moment, Miria had feared Sarel would give her a lecture about revenge. “I understand, and if we stop Rosmilda tonight—”
“Any attempt to stop Rosmilda tonight would be foolish,” Dinia said.
“I’m sorry. No doubt, she has increased any protections she might have after your encounter with her earlier.
Every time she draws on her magic, she hurts others.
The first thing we must do, therefore, is sever the magic she’s using to draw her power.
You said you know who some of those children are. Protecting them is our first step.”
“How long will that take? I don’t know how to do it myself.”
“Time. If the four of us work together, we can finish it tomorrow.”
Miria grimaced. “And if the three of you do it while I increase my wards here to stave off her attack?”
Dinia shrugged. “Longer.”
Adaline wet her lips. “It’s no good Miri. They’re right. Protecting the children comes first.”
“She’ll find others. There must be others in town.”
“We can only do what we can do,” Dinia said. “If we can help some, then we should.”
They were making the right choice, the ethical choice, the choice she’d intended to make herself before Adaline had become determined to leave. But they weren’t the ones facing the result of that decision.
As if reading her thoughts, Adaline took her hand.
“Even if you went after Rosmilda tonight, it may not be enough to stop the wedding. Rosmilda may have charmed my family, but if so, that was not the sole reason for the match. And I do not believe her sudden disappearance would deter your father or mine. They both stand to gain too much. I’ll leave in the morning, and we’ll continue with your plan. ”
Miria closed her eyes against the tears threatening behind them. For a moment she’d had hope that the other witches could make all her problems go away. But it felt like not much had changed. She would have help, but when it came to Adaline, she remained on her own.
“It’s not much of a plan,” she whispered.
“Well, the night is young,” Adaline said. “And we have pie to discuss it over.”
“Tell us what you’re planning,” Nalki said. “Just because we shouldn’t interfere doesn’t mean we can’t offer guidance.”