by Jeff Wheeler
Merdrid called from the main room. “Are you going to come out so I can see?”
“In a minute.” Danai said absently, pulling her hair up and trying to picture how she would look if she tied her hair like that with a ribbon. As she did, a bit of the fog on her memory cleared and she remembered the handsome soldier’s mocking smile and words, telling her she was beautiful. No, that was not right. She thought he had been mocking her, but he seemed so genuine. Kleed. His name was Kleed.
More memory cleared. He had told her that he was able to see her for who she was because of a bloodstone. She moved to the bedpost where she had hung her belt when she changed out of her regular clothes and reached inside. Her fingers felt the smooth ring of stone tied to a leather cord. She pulled it out and returned to the mirror, telling herself she was foolish to hope that if she put the pendant on, she might see something different. Yet, Kleed had seemed so earnest. Yes, that was the word she remembered feeling last night. Shaking her head, she decided she had nothing to lose and slipped the loop of leather over her head.
Danai felt as though a heavy, wet coat had dropped from her, and rays of sun warmed and invigorated her whole body. She nearly fell to the floor with the forces moving her. She gripped the small table below the mirror and looked at her reflection. Gasping audibly, she saw her mother’s beauty, enhanced by youth, and bright blue eyes looking back at her. She grinned weakly and the face in the mirror grinned back. The dimple. Her mother’s gorgeous dimple, and not the misshapen, too deep dimple she was used to seeing, appeared on her face. Blond, dull waves were replaced by golden luster framing her face. Tears began leaking down her cheeks at the memory of her mother living in the image before her now.
“Are you all right in there?” Merdrid asked. The sound of feet shuffling toward the doorway followed.
Danai quickly removed the pendant and wrapped the cord into a small ball. She was relieved to find the dress had a pocket on the right side. She slipped the stone and cord into the pocket, hoping it would not bulge noticeably, and kept her back to the door. “Yes, Merdrid. I just saw how pretty the dress is on me and I’m being far too vain. I could use a hand tying the ribbon.”
Merdrid entered the room and clucked in appreciation. “Yes, yes. That is a perfect fit.” Her strong, steady fingers gripped the ribbon and began tightening the lattice. “Tell me if I pull too hard.”
Danai stole a look in the mirror and her plain self was back. She worried that the bloodstone might have changed how she looked, and was relieved in part that it had not. Yet, another part of her began to wonder why she looked plain without the stone and so different while wearing it. The stone had also removed many great weights from her that all fit snugly back around her now that the pendant was off. The vosang. She imagined that must be the source of what seemed to bind her mind and weigh her down. The pendant pushed it all away. She longed to put it back on, but there was more to figure out first.
Merdrid finished working with the ribbon and stepped back. “Okay, Sis, please turn around so I can get a good look.”
Danai turned around slowly, warily. The woman who had helped her father for all these years and been her mentor. The woman who had provided work to Danai, which kept her in a home, with food and clothes. What had this woman done to her? She remembered Kleed’s warning that the older woman was not what she seemed. Danai forced herself to look into the other woman’s eyes, and tried to keep her expression neutral. Like a puzzle piece clicking into place, Danai believed whatever had been done to her had been done by Merdrid. But why? What Danai longed to do most of all was put the pendant on and see Merdrid for who she really was.
Doubts crept in. What did Danai know about the pendant? Only that which Kleed had told her. Perhaps the pendant made her see what she wanted to see, and made her feel as though she were weighed down with webs of vosang. She tried to make her mind believe that it was more logical to trust Merdrid, who had done so many kind things for her family for all those years.
Merdrid had finished looking her over and was staring into her eyes. A twinkle that seemed something other than happiness shone in Merdrid’s. Merdrid’s smile was also unusual. More unusual than the simple fact that she rarely smiled. That alone was odd given the fact that she nearly lost her mortar and likely had the king’s emissary and protector combing the valley for them. Why was Merdrid so happy? Danai also wondered why the men had not shown up at her door yet. Too many questions.
Merdrid’s voice was low and serious. “You look breathtaking, Sis. I think you are ready to talk about the cure.” The older woman turned to walk into the other room. “Come along, dear. It’s time.”
As Danai entered the main room, she saw the worktable had been cleared of everything except the mortar and pestle, two black bottles, and an earthen bowl that now contained all of the ingredients that had been prepared. The concoction was a thick brown goo, and Danai tried not to think of what it looked like. She felt sorry for whoever would have to eat it. Perhaps it was to be applied to the skin, she hoped. Her eyes lingered on the bottles and she remembered the potion in the red bottle Merdrid had given her. The details came back to her. The potion had been an amour potion of some kind. When it took effect, Kleed acted like he loved her, desired her, and would do anything to have her. Then she remembered the kiss. It was her first kiss, and it was to a man she did not really know. She knew she too had been effected by the potion. But it had done more to her than just make her willing to kiss Kleed.
Danai’s thoughts were interrupted by Merdrid, who now stood next to the mortar. “Sis, the cure is nearly ready, but I need you to do something, give something of yourself that might sound like a lot to ask. With the Kingsworn in the valley, I fear I will have to move on, so it is well that we have prepared the cure this day.”
The reality of what Merdrid had said hit Danai like a blast of winter wind. Whether she trusted Merdrid or not, the older woman had been at the center of her life for five years, and she could not imagine what she would do without Merdrid. She started to object, but couldn’t find the words.
“Hush, Sis, let me finish. We both know those men will not give up now that they know I have a bloodstone. Besides, if I can heal the last survivors of the plague, then my work in the valley is complete. You know enough to continue the work of healing in the valley, and I will leave the shop to you.”
Danai stood statue still, not knowing what to think.
“Let’s get on with the cure then, shall we?” Merdrid asked. Without waiting for an answer, she went on. “The bowl on the table holds all of the ingredients but two. The first is the potion in this bottle.” She held up one of the black bottles and swirled the liquid inside with a sweeping motion. “Once I pour the potion in, the last ingredient will need to be added within an hour. If it is not, the cure will sour and lose its efficacy. Once the last ingredient is added, the cure will be stable for a full day, but last no longer than that.”
Danai thought of the other people sick in the valley and realized it would take her almost a full day to reach them all. She also knew that a horse or carriage would be useless to reach two of those suffering from the plague, as they lived in the upper reach of the west end of the valley, and a climb was needed to get to their houses. She had taken them the monthly cures herself since Merdrid was unable to climb. She knew she would have to be the one to administer the cure.
“You have done a marvelous job in getting the monthly doses of remedy to those in need. I am sure you realize that with the time constraints we will be under, my body cannot make the trip.” Merdrid paused, looking serious and perhaps a little sad. “That is where the problem lies. The administration of this cure requires the use of a bloodstone and talent in the vosang.”
While Merdrid paused, her words ignited a firestorm of thought in Danai. Would she have to take the oath on the bloodstone that Merdrid had taken? Could she even do it if she was willing? What impact would making an oath have on her life? Merdrid had warned Danai that she would h
ave to make a sacrifice.
Yet, the question that underlay them all was the one Merdrid asked, “Sis, do you trust me?”
Even as Danai nodded yes, a thread of doubt grew to a strong cord within her. “What must I do, Merdrid?” The sound of her voice was distant in her ears, and she felt numb.
“The only way the cure will reach everyone is if your ability to climb and travel is combined with my talent in the vosang in one body. We are going to have to trade places for a while.”
“What does that mean?” The numbness was accompanied by a chill that made Danai shudder.
“It means, we both have to enter a covenant, seal it with blood in the mortar, and allow the vosang to put my mind in your body and your mind in my body.” Merdrid’s tone was serious and somber, but there was a hint of eagerness.
“Is that even possible?”
“Yes. But it requires willing sincerity by both of us, and a sacrifice that is balanced on both sides. For myself and the Creators, they will be satisfied that the change will allow me to continue the work I have covenanted I would do. For you, it allows your father and others in the valley you love to be healed and live. There is symmetry in that bargain. Will you do it?” Merdrid’s hands rubbed together as she watched Danai.
Danai needed time. She needed to think this through. But time was short and dwindling like the last rays of sunlight on an autumn evening. “How long will we be switched?” Somehow she knew that whatever Merdrid said would be a lie.
“Only for one day, Sis. After I have healed them, we can meet in a safe location and change back.” Merdrid’s eyes were hawk-like. “You could stay here and care for your father. I have put protections on your home that should keep the Kingsworn away for a while.”
Of the many things that bothered Danai about the idea, the one blocking other thought was that Merdrid would have a familiarity with Danai’s body that should be reserved for self and spouse alone. Closely following that concern was the realization that she would have that same familiarity with Merdrid’s body. Danai could not escape the nagging belief that if the switch worked, she would never go back to her own body. Yet, even if that were true, if it meant saving the lives of eight people, including her father, the price might be worth paying. She looked over at her father, his pitifully weak form lying in bed, wet with sweat, just behind Merdrid. Then, another chilling thought hit her, what if the cure was ineffective or an outright lie. If that was true, then her future was dark as the bottom of a bear’s den in winter. Her father would die, her boss would be an outlaw, and she’d have nobody to turn to for help. She felt very alone, abandoned.
“Cheer up, Sis, things will work out just fine,” said Merdrid.
“I need to know the truth before I agree to do it.” Danai resolved to a course of action and felt some warmth extend out to her limbs.
Merdrid’s expression was serious, but her smile remained. “The truth about what?”
Danai folded her arms across her chest and stood tall. “About many things.”
Merdrid smiled more broadly. “I thought you trusted me; you just so much as told me so. Perhaps it is you that cannot be trusted. Let me ease your doubts. I will give you the truth to the question that is on your mind right now, and by my blood and the power of the stone, I will give you the rest of the truth after we have entered our covenant. You want to know if the cure will really work. The answer to that question is yes.”
Danai studied the older woman’s face, trying to discern truth and lie. The best she could tell, Merdrid was telling the truth.
“If you doubt me, why don’t you put that pendant on again and I will tell you once more.” Merdrid chuckled mirthlessly.
Danai felt like she had been punched in the stomach. Her heart broke at the realization that she no longer knew whether anything she thought she knew about Merdrid was true. She wanted to hold onto it all, but that would be foolish childishness. Danai had defended Merdrid to Kleed. Worse yet, Merdrid knew about the pendant. She wordlessly pulled the stone and leather from her pocket. It was not much shelter from the crumbling of her world around her, but it was something. Her hands trembled as she put the cord over her head. Again, she felt as though the weight of an ox were lifted from her shoulders and strings wrapping all around her body were snipped away. Her mind quickened and she gasped.
Merdrid’s smile returned. “Oh, but you are a beautiful young woman, Danai. Ask your question so I can assure you I speak the truth.”
Danai could see Merdrid clearly for the first time. The loving, plump apothecant was as much an illusion as was her own plainness. Where a gentle old grandmother just stood, a mean-faced hag of a woman remained. Her body was frail, skin so old and thin that the veins stood out like lines on a map. Her hair was wispy and brittle, devoid of color. Her teeth were most troubling, sickly and jagged. Danai had never seen anyone who looked so old or so terrifying. “Will the cure work?” She gasped, realizing if she traded places with Merdrid, just how much of a sacrifice it would be.
Merdrid’s smile showed too many teeth. “Yes, Sis.”
The last word had seemed so endearing the past five years, but now sounded like a curse in Danai’s ears. A spreading warmth near the pendant let Danai know in her heart that Merdrid’s words were true. “Will you administer the cure after we trade?” Danai had to know the answer to that question.
“I kept my promise to give you truth to one question, the one you wanted answered the most, but the rest of the truth comes after we have completed our covenant.” Merdrid folded her bony arms and said no more.
Danai was not sure when she had started crying, but felt tears rolling down her cheeks. “If I cannot be sure the cure will be delivered and applied to all of the people from my village, I will not agree to the switch.”
“You seem to think that your position in this bargain is superior. But do you consider the fact that a knot of soldiers is at this moment combing the valley not only for me but you? Search your memories now and you will see that those soldiers want to capture you every bit as much as they want to recover the mortar from me.” Merdrid’s eyes blazed like a flame about to devour a child’s wooden crib.
Danai had the sickening feeling that Merdrid’s words were true. She searched her memory of the prior night, now free of fog. She remembered vividly all that happened until the moment that she and Kleed kissed. She saw herself and Kleed both falling to the ground. Something in the potion that had drawn them together had ignited when they kissed. She passed out, as did Kleed, but soon after she awakened and stood. She had Kleed’s pendant in her hand and carefully tucked it into her belt pouch. The rain fell like a dark curtain all around her. She used the storm as her cloak and found the camp that was nearby. Her memories were not the typical kind that played from her own perspective and were narrated by the thoughts that had been in her mind as the events happened. These memories were like watching a play involving herself and everyone else who appeared in the memories, with none of her own thoughts present. It was as if someone else directed her steps. She was a puppet and someone else pulled the strings, and there was no doubt who the puppet master was. She saw herself enter the emissary’s tent, search through his packs, and find the bowl. The emissary returned and caught her with the mortar. He called for help, but she struck him on the head with the heavy stone mortar. The older man fell, blood pouring from the wound on his head. Danai ran from the tent, soldiers in pursuit, and slipped into the dark of the night, losing all pursuers in the storm.
Danai closed her eyes in a quiet prayer that the emissary and Kleed were alive, and asked the Creators to restore each of them to health. She also prayed in her mind to find a way out of this horrible situation. In her mind, she knew that Merdrid had been putting strings on her for a long time, and pulling them.
Merdrid broke the silence. “You see the truth now. You murdered the emissary and the soldiers saw you do it. They search the valley now and will not give up. They want the bowl from me, but from you, the demand will
be your life. Deny my request and I will walk away with my mortar and my cure. I may lose out on the chance to trade places with you—you will have your life and your body, but only until the soldiers find you. Then they will take your life, and without the cure, all eight people in this valley suffering from the plague will also die. You can imagine how long you will be safe from Kingsworn searching for Merdrid and her assistant when my wards no longer keep them away. And I imagine young Kleed will be motivated like a bronco with an ember under his saddle to find the girl who stole his bloodstone and murdered his charge. Which of us loses more if our deal is not consummated?”
Danai realized that Merdrid’s words rang true. “Please. I have served you for five years without fail. If I give you my body, I know you will not come back. If I give that much, please pledge in the covenant that you will heal all of the sick before you go.” Danai realized the beautiful dress she wore was proof that Merdrid intended to do no climbing once the trade was complete. The dress was not a present for Danai, but Merdrid’s choice of what she would look like after the trade. Danai refused to consider what Merdrid would do with her body if the switch were made.
The old woman’s smile became a smirk. “You know I will not. I will leave this valley within the hour. For your service to me, I will ease your mind two ways. First, fear not that you will be trapped within the form you see now—I have a supply of potion at my shop that will last several years. The potion sustains my life and alters my appearance. I can be the portly Merdrid you know. Or, I should say, you can be her. Second, I will tell you the last ingredient to the cure once the trade is complete, and perhaps I stretched the truth about needing the vosang to administer it. The paste will be viable for at least a week, and you simply need to feed it to those who suffer. The dose is one thimbleful. There, I have given you more than I promised. It is my last offer.”
