Chapter 16
Sixteen
“Okay, you have to grind these herbs together and add oil to the mixture to create the salve,” Ayla said, pointing to the various herbs spread out across the worktable.
“This is nightingale. It’s a particular herb that, when used properly, can help with those inflicted by muscle spasm although too much of it in its herb form can be poisonous. ”
I ground the herbs while sweat dripped from my forehead. “If used improperly, it can cause the body to shut down?”
She nodded. “Precisely. See, you’re getting this!” Ayla clapped her hands together, her smile brightening the gloomy day.
I wiped the sweat from my brow. “Most poisons have an antidote . . .” I tried to remember from our lessons and the books I had read the possible ingredients that can reverse the poisonous process.
“Most do but not nightingale. You are better off giving them lobelia or any herb with particulars to induce them to vomit it up and pray the end comes swiftly.”
I placed the mixture into jars laid out across the table, careful not to overfill them one by one. “Lobelia.”
The market was a first for me to assist Ayla in selling her tinctures and remedies. Finishing the last of the batches, we placed the items into a large knapsack and set out of the cottage.
Winter had set in, the first snowfall happening less than a few weeks ago.
The chill in the air had deepened into the greenery, frosting tips of evergreens with the soft crunch of snow underfoot.
I shut the coat tight against my body, placing the sack high on top of my shoulders as we walked the cobblestone path to the center of town.
The coat was another gift from Ebony, who I suspected was guilty about the other day.
Most of the ghosts left me alone after the incident, but to say that it did not spook me in the slightest would be a lie.
Ebony kept her distance but left trinkets and gifts in her place.
Besides Ayla, she had been the closest thing to a confidant in the castle.
Silas had been even more of a recluse since the day he barged into my room.
Keeping to the west wing, he stopped coming to supper despite it being his one crucial rule.
It’d been an unspoken agreement those last few nights as he swept his glass of wine off the table, giving a small nod before departing.
The man was a dark storm of untold destruction in my life.
Swiftly there, with little warning, only to disappear and leave disaster in his wake.
Instead of fretting over his mood swings, I had been putting that time into learning the art of healing with Ayla.
Those had been the harder ones to attend since the house visit with the woman.
Most of those poor folks had evidence of blood loss that tied Silas to the crime more so than I’d like to admit.
I never said anything to Ayla about my time in the castle.
She taught me skills that had greatly helped others, but there was a missing piece to me that strained against my chest.
The market was packed, and booths lined the small squares as sellers attracted potential customers.
Baked goods, materials made of leather ranging from bags to belts, and other trinkets had been perched on tablecloths.
A warm bonfire was lit nearby, bathing the square in a glow and warmth with lights twinkling overhead.
Loud laughter of children rang out, who were running through the market as several shoppers haggled.
The customers rebuked their offer, going back and forth until they pressed gold coins into the palms of the vendors once deals had been struck.
The glory of the cosmic exchange.
Ayla guided us to our booth, smaller than the rest, which was alright, seeing as we did not offer an extended variety of goods.
Setting out the worn jars of herbs and signs she had crafted, we sat up shop on this winter morning.
Taking out a lighter stick, she lit the end from the bonfire nearby and stoked a pile of herbs.
The scent of vanilla and cloves filled the small space, inviting and warm to the chilled air.
“This should help attract customers. Now some may haggle, but the final offer should never be less than a single gold piece. Although if someone looks as if they need the help, we will reevaluate the pricing. Oftentimes, folks come to need the help but do not have the money to do so, while others prey on the good will of others.”
Ayla straightened the cloth, then fanned the smoke higher, creating a dizzy overwhelming smell of the incense. Blue eyes twinkled in sincerity, taking care of her display as she prepared for the flood of customers that beckon to the booth.
As soon as we opened for the rush, there was not a singular moment of rest. One after another, they bought the tinctures and mixtures we had labored for days.
Gone in mere moments. True to Ayla’s word, there were a few who tried to haggle lower than a single gold piece, fighting the fact that it was expensive for this kind of work.
“This is women’s work. Why should it be compensated any higher than Darwin’s apothecary down the streets?” an old man grumbled, pulling out the singular gold coin and placing it up on the counter.
Ayla took the coin, replaced it with a bottle of healing salve, and gave the man a polite smile.
The man grunted away, shoving the jar into his shabby gray coat, only to glare at me, eyebrow lifted in suspicion. “Haven’t seen you around here before.”
“I moved here recently,” I said.
“The castle, eh?”
“No, sir.”
The man squinted, his wrinkled face scrunching as his gaze raked my insides. “Liar.”
I winced, rubbing my hands against the fabric of my dress.
I was not ready for folks to know I was staying under the roof of their enemy and not doing anything about it. I opened my mouth and closed it. I had no idea what to say to this man.
“Sounds as if you got something to say. Perhaps you are the monster that lives on top of that bloody hill,” he hissed.
“She is a distant cousin of mine who is staying with me. Now run along, Walter. I have other customers to attend to,” Ayla said.
“Such a saint, you are. Taking in the misfortunate ones among this land of evil. I’d take care Ayla, there’s much at play recently that I’d hate for you to wind up dead. Such a shame, indeed.” The man stared. “Good day.” He shuffled off down the cobblestone path and into an alleyway.
Ayla greeted another customer, cool under pressure, while I tried to rub the embarrassment of it all off my face.
People walked past the booth, their gazes drawn to the next shiny object or item to buy. Some spoke excitedly, lifting goods off the table to show others. A child pointed at a small toy, a wooden horse. The little boy broke out into a fit of coughing, buckling over upon the ground.
The mother tugged the little boy’s hand until they stopped in front of us. “Excuse me, miss. Do you have a cough remedy? My son, he’s been coughing terribly for the last week, and I fear he has the plague.”
Ayla nodded to me, signaling I should take the lead keenly watching as I rummaged through the bag, pulling out my own blend I had created.
“Here, take this with a few teaspoons of honey, and it should clear up within a couple days.” She took the satchel, holding it close to her chest as she fumbled within her coat for coins.
The boy coughed into his hand, brown pools wide as his attention fixated on me. “Scary woman.” He pointed at Ayla and me, placing his other in his mouth. “Bad. Bad. Bad.”
“That’s enough, sweetie. Here.” She placed the coin onto the table. Flushed, she picked her son up, then the satchel in her fist.
The child continued to beat his fists into his mother’s side. “She’s gonna kill us all. I saw it, Mama,” he wailed, pointing to the space between Ayla and me.
The mother cooed into the boy’s ear, rocking him in her arms. “He is not normally like this. Thank you, both of you. You are saints, wonderful saints.” She walked off down the same cobblestone path, her son coughing into her shoulder.
Ayla neatly adjusted the product on the table, softly humming to herself.
“People have their opinions. No matter how hard you try to argue with them, they will hold on to them, even if they are harmful. You’ll get used to it.
Sooner or later, you will leave that castle, and you will not be the stranger in town. ”
I wondered if the same held true when it came to Silas.
If the townspeople saw what Silas was like outside of the walls of the castle, would they change their minds?
Silas has been alone in that castle for an eternity, doing who knows what to these people that rather see his head on a pike than be open to the idea that he was less than the monster they portray him as.
Was he less than the monster that I thought him to be? I was not even sure of my own doubt to truly answer the question. He had his secrets—that was clear, but yet he struck me as someone who did not like hiding them. The man simply was afraid of its discovery and the judgment to follow.
Was he lonely? Perhaps it was the reason he did not know how to act human or understand the particulars of the fears to see. Yes, he had all those ghosts, but does a beast often wish for the presence of a living, breathing person?
The warmth and heartbeat from someone.
Silas hiding the truth from me only made me more curious, especially after my last venture to the west wing. One he did not want me to find, to explain how he or even the castle came to be. Perhaps it was I needed to see to prove that he did, in fact, had something to do with the village deaths.
Perhaps only then I’d be able to use the blade against him and be sure enough I was not damning another soul.
Assisting Ayla in packing up the booth, I was struck with the awful task I had to do. If Silas was unwilling to tell me what was going on in his castle, then it was time that I found out what it was—and stop him.