17
A couple days later, I found myself back at Lana’s, this time burdened with a heavy load.
“Come along.”
My arms were burning. The wooden crate filled with Lana’s general antidote seemed to grow heavier with each step I took. The passageway’s uneven ground did little to help the matter.
Lana had a personal passageway in her garden that led to the Witch Market. I was half-tempted to ask why she couldn’t have made hers with a smooth ground, but I was beginning to realize that magic couldn’t solve everything—and that Lana did not take well to complaints.
“How many passageways are there to the outside?” I asked instead.
“An infinite amount as long as there are witches to conjure them,” Lana said. “There are many that lead to the same destination. The public ones have guardian witches. ”
“Like Miriam?” I said.
“Unfortunately,” Lana said.
I wondered what Miriam did to garner so much distaste from Lana and my nannies.
After a minute of walking, the door-shaped light finally appeared before us. Instead of walking straight out, Lana knocked on the door in an elaborate rhythm. On the other side, a key turned and the door swung open. My eyes watered from the sudden flood of brightness.
“Ah, Lana.” A short, stumpy witch with a long white beard stood behind the threshold. I recognized him as the witch from the crop fields.
“Ferdinand,” Lana said in greeting.
“Have you brought more of your extra sticky glue? I had a shelf fall off yesterday and I cannot be bothered to nail it back.”
“I’m afraid not.” Lana pushed her way out, clearly in no mood for small talk. I followed, coughing when I inhaled a lungful of stale air. We were in a dusty basement of some sort, overtaken with crates and barrels. The walls were high and lined with square windows.
“Who is this?” Ferdinand said, peering up at me. He didn’t seem to recognize me.
“My apprentice,” Lana said before I could introduce myself. I made up for her curt response with a smile and a half-curtsy and rushed after her as she climbed the short steps to the exit.
“Apprentice? I never took you as the type to take an appren—” Ferdinand’s words cut off as the door swung shut behind us. I felt bad for being so rude, but thoughts of manners left my head when I took in the sight before me.
We were in a narrow street sandwiched between red-bricked buildings. Wagons and table displays made of ramshackle crates lined the street, leaving barely enough space for a horse-drawn cart to pass through.
The street itself was crowded with people—witches and humans alike—chattering and shouting and bartering. Despite the crispness of the morning, the air was thick with sweat and incense. We were still somewhat underground, as the walls stretched up high and the road was unpaved.
This was the infamous Witch Market.
“Where’s our stand?” I shouted.
“Just around the corner.”
I squinted past the hustle and bustle, trying to see where the corner was. The street seemed to stretch on forever. My arms felt like they would fall off any second.
Lana glanced at me. “Here!” She waved at a passing witch with a cart full of crudely-made wagons. He pushed one down to her and proceeded through the crowd. Lana gave the wagon to me.
“Thank you,” I said, but she was already halfway down the street. I hurried behind her. A few men with scarred faces and wild beards were mixed in the rabble. I wasn’t eager to mingle with the likes of them.
Lana and I walked on for a minute or so before I saw the corner she was talking about. It opened up to a slightly wider street with a stone archway at the end of it through which people were entering.
Humans, I noted. Not witches.
I wanted to peek in and see what lay beyond, but Lana stopped before an empty stand and set our crates onto the table. A piece of canvas was pulled over the top of four narrow posts, sheltering us from the strengthening sunlight.
“You may help me handle the wares and the payments,” Lana said.
I nodded and joined her behind the stand, seating myself on the hard bench .
“How long does the Market stay open?” I asked.
“All day, every day,” Lana said. Her eyes flicked to my wrist, where my bracelet of silver bells gleamed. “Do you have somewhere to be?”
I did. But I shook my head anyway. I would have to make up an excuse for Ash later.
A hunched, wrinkled woman approached us with a pole over her shoulder. Two large baskets hung from either end, reeking of fish.
“What have you got this time, Lana?” the woman croaked, squinting at the glass jars of antidote.
“Antidote for mild poisoning,” Lana said. “Works wonderfully if you’ve eaten bad seafood.”
The woman harrumphed. “Is that a jab at my fish, you old witch?”
I was both appalled and amused that someone had the guts to call Lana an old witch.
“Not at all, Nina,” Lana said. She smiled—actually smiled. “And what have you brought?”
“Fresh salmon from the river,” Nina said, reaching into her basket to pull out a limp fish the length of my forearm and thrice as wide. “Isn’t she a beauty?”
“Quite. Two for two?” Lana said.
Nina squinted at the jars, holding one of them up to her wrinkled face. The antidote gleamed prettily in the light.
“I would’ve suggested two for three but these seem useful. Very well, two for two it is,” the fisherwoman said. She pulled out two sheets of wax paper from her basket and wrapped the fish in each. Lana did the same for the antidotes and they exchanged their wares.
An hour passed and we had sold a good amount of our stock. In exchange, Lana got three heads of cabbage, a spool of twine, a hefty jar of honey, and five sticks of cinnamon. I loaded all this into the empty crates and set them on the wagon. By the time the sun was high in the sky, we were down to three jars of antidote.
“This was a particularly good day,” Lana said. “I hardly expected it.”
“Why?” I asked. Lana seemed to have more than a few regulars.
“The Royal Guard has been preventing people from entering. There’s been several arrests, so I’ve heard.”
“Ah.” I thought back to the poor fellow who got thrown in prison after being accused of dabbling in witchcraft. Perhaps he just wanted some extra sticky glue.
The sound of horse hooves broke through the chatter. A cart rolled in through the arch, carrying a mass of something covered in a canvas sheet. The driver rolled to a stop near our stand. Judging from his skinny limbs and crooked stature, he was quite elderly. Despite that, he leapt nimbly onto an empty crate and struck a dented pot with a piece of wood. Witches approached the cart—many of them were smiling.
Lana was not.
“Who is that?” I asked, glancing at the elderly man.
Lana exhaled and cleared off the remnants of her wares from the table. “A human under the impression that he is our hero,” she said. “There are many such people. I don’t like the idea of humans here if they’re not going to buy something.”
I watched the man pull off the canvas from his cart, revealing sacks of grain, crates of ruddy fruit, and barrels of other goods. Two other men began handing out the goods to the witches who had formed a line before them.
“He’s giving away food. For free,” I said.
“He fancies himself a philanthropist. ”
I did not expect the venom in Lana’s voice. “Isn’t that a good thing? Being a philanthropist?”
Lana let her crate drop to the floor with more force than necessary. The remaining glass bottles clinked. “Humans will never view us as equals. Witches will either be feared or pitied—there is no in between. I don’t care for either treatment. But if I had to choose, I’d rather be seen as a monster than a charity case.”
“You don’t think there’s anyone out there who truly wants to help?”
“Oh, of course they want to help, but for their sake and not ours. Helping us witches allows humans to revel in their own greatness and generosity.”
I stole another glance at the cart-driving philanthropist. A group of young witches laughed in delight when he gave them a box of strawberries. Beside them, a dark-haired young man walked with his head down and shoulders hunched.
I scrambled down the bench, bumping into Lana.
“What is the matter with you?”
“Nothing,” I said, nauseated.
My suspicions were confirmed when the young man raised his head to look about with darting brown eyes. It was Ash—and I was a mere five feet away from him.
With unnecessary violence, I wrapped my scarf around my face until everything but my eyes was covered. Just as I finished, Ash fixed his gaze on me.
We had met a mere three days ago at the palace library for one of our meetings discussing his plan of exposing the duchess. It was a strange and desperate plan, but the mad part of me thought it might work and agreed to help. We met up frequently ever since. I was sure by now he had become more than familiar with my features .
Ash stared. I stared back, unable to move and terrified his lips would form my name.
But he merely made his way over to our stand.
“Hello,” he said, smiling stiffly at Lana and then me. I lowered my gaze. “Do you happen to have any...er...”
“If you’re looking for nefarious poisons and voodoo magic, I’ll have to disappoint you,” Lana said flatly, as if young men asked for poison every day.
Ash shrugged. “Is there anyone else who...?’”
I nearly felt Lana’s glare simmering in the air. “No, sir,” she said, “and if there is a witch who sells such things, I am not acquainted with them nor do I have the desire to.”
The prince finally seemed to realize the awkwardness of the situation. No doubt he was here to investigate the origins of the poison Erasmus found and decided the Witch Market was a reasonable place to start.
His disguise, however, was a poor one. His shirt and trousers were of too fine a material to blend in with the rough, dirt-streaked rabble of the Market. And the way he glanced about and jumped whenever someone brushed his shoulder made it clear it was his first time in magical company.
“May I inquire what you’re selling?” he asked.
“A general antidote,” Lana said brusquely. “Heals minor cuts if applied topically and minor illnesses if consumed.”
Ash nodded slowly.
“You are clearly not familiar with purchasing from our kind, so I would appreciate it if you would leave. You are holding up my line,” Lana said.
There was no line, except for the massive one before the elderly man’s cart.
Ash looked over his shoulder. “Ah, I apologize. I...er... have something for your trouble,” he said, fishing out an apple from the pouch at his hip. It was in the shape of a flattened gourd and had a yellow stripe down the middle. “It’s a little strange looking. But delicious, I’m sure.”
An agonizingly long moment passed with Ash’s arm outstretched and Lana pretending he wasn’t there. Stifling a laugh, I took the apple from him to spare his feelings, but instantly regretted it when he turned his attention to me.
He stuck out his hand. “Much obliged, Miss...?”
I stared at his hand, knowing that I couldn’t possibly speak.
Lana came to my rescue. “She is my apprentice.”
“Ah, much obliged, Miss Apprentice.”
I shook his hand briefly before the bells or my laughter gave me away.
He seemed confused at my silence, so I pointed to my throat and shook my head.
“You’re mute?”
I nodded. Lana did not object, nor did she give any indication of speaking again. Feeling it only right, I grabbed one of the remaining antidotes and gave it to him.
“Thank you,” he said, inspecting the jar. “I’ll give it a try.” With another stiff smile, Ash turned and disappeared behind the massive line.
Lana and I didn’t exchange a word until we were back in the basement where Ferdinand was waiting for us. His inquiries and comments were ignored until they were cut off yet again by the slamming of the door.
When we were finally in the safety of the dark passageway, I pulled my scarf down to my neck.
“That was...someone I knew,” I said.
“Someone who wouldn’t take well to knowing you’re a witch, I suppose? ”
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “He’s usually very kind.” Miriam told me hatred for magic ran in royal blood. But I couldn’t imagine Ash hating me. I felt the apple in my pouch bump my leg with every step.
Lana harrumphed. “Don’t be fooled, child. Helping a witch and being a witch are two very different things. He and the other foolish philanthropists will be commended for their charity. You, on the other hand, will be shunned.”
WHEN I RETURNED TO Miriam’s shop, I had an extra jar of antidote Lana told me to keep. It was another gruff act of kindness I appreciated but didn’t comment on, lest she scolded me for speaking nonsense.
“You took longer this time,” Miriam said when I emerged through the portal.
I rubbed my back and shifted the pouch on my shoulders. “Lana took me to the Witch Market.”
“Did she? What was she selling?”
Before I could tell her, Miriam took the jar from me. She unscrewed the top, dipped a finger in, tasted it thoughtfully, and dipped her finger in again.
“A general antidote,” I said. “You can have it if you like.”
“I couldn’t,” she said, smacking her lips.
“Really. I insist.”
It was a little past noon. I was once again close to missing lunch at the Strongfoots’. As I made my way to the exit, the door burst open and I nearly stumbled into Theodora and Rowena. They looked equally shocked to see me.
“Amarante? What are you doing here?” they said in unison .
I opened my mouth but no sound came out. I had completely forgotten to tell them about my lessons with Lana. It had practically been a week!
Ashamed that I had neglected them, I filled them in on my visits to Witch Village.
Rowena’s face turned thoughtful when I finished. Theodora furrowed her brow.
“We were just here to see Lana again, for your sake,” Theodora said. “I thought she wanted nothing to do with us. Why the sudden change of heart?”
“Maybe the old bat needed a servant and decided to take Amarante,” Rowena said.
Theodora turned me around as if, once again, looking for fatal wounds. “Are you alright, then? We tried to write last week, but your stepmother sent the staff into a frenzy.”
Rowena chuckled. “Somehow she found out that Master Flora is returning and insisted on cleaning every inch of the house. He won’t arrive for another month, for goodness sake,” she said. She pinched my cheek and widened her eyes. “My! Your witch traits have emerged!”
My stomach twisted at the mention of Papa’s return, but I masked it with a shrug and a smile. “Yes. And I have been doing fine. Lana gave me something to keep my magic under control,” I said, lifting the crystal from my bodice.
My nannies exchanged a look so quickly I barely noticed. I thought I detected a hint of sadness in Theodora’s lined eyes. “Well, dear, I’m glad you are doing well. Just remember, you can come to us anytime. If you no longer wish to learn magic...” she trailed off, but I shook my head.
I wasn’t going to quit my apprenticeship any time soon—not after everything I had seen, and especially not after what I learned from Erasmus’s investigation. If this morning wasn’t evidence enough, Ash didn’t have a chance finding out what that poison was. It was up to me.
After a warm goodbye, I returned to the Strongfoots’ just in time for lunch. Lord Strongfoot was still bothered by Captain Greenwood’s framing, but he seemed to regain a bit of his cheeriness when he told us what he had heard at the palace.
“They say Her Majesty is recovering mighty fine,” Lord Strongfoot grumbled over his roasted turkey leg. “Maybe once she’s well she’ll pardon the captain.”
I doubted that’d be the case, but no one dared to contradict him lest he wither into stormy depression again.
After dinner, I stewed over Ash’s plan. We had gone over it several times, but I was still uneasy.
Whether or not it would truly expose the duchess, we would have to wait and see.