by Patty Jansen
Because the silence was so oppressing, she asked, “Is this where sick people come to see you? I was expecting a shop or something.”
“Sometimes they do.” Julianna lowered herself with painful slowness onto the opposite chair. “I don’t have a shop. The only people who bother to come to see me are ones who know what they’re talking about. Do you know your herbs?”
The candle that stood between them lit her face from underneath, turning it into a ghostly mask.
“A bit.”
Julianna snorted. “A bit gets you into danger. It makes you think you know everything, but you know nothing. Many of these herbs and extracts here are deadly.”
She stopped as if to let that sink in.
Nellie was beginning to think the whole city could have poisoned Lord Verdonck.
Julianna continued, “Many of these bottles on the shelves behind me contain concentrate of herb extractions, poisons more powerful than you will find anywhere. Give someone the wrong dose, and they will die.”
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t. You think you understand. Two different things.”
“I understand. Someone in the palace has severe stomach cramps. I’m looking for juniper berries to give him juniper berry tea.”
“Hmmm, yes, that’s always a good start. It’s a pity you didn’t bring the person, because there are many inflictions that can cause stomach cramps.”
“This man is very unwell. He may have been poisoned.”
“No surprise, that, seeing all the things these noble people do to each other. The more money, the more bad behaviour, if you ask me.”
She pushed the candle aside and put both her wrinkled and gnarled hands on the table.
“Now give me your hands and let me see your lines of power.”
“You must be mistaken. I didn’t come here for my fortune. I only want juniper berries.”
“I am never mistaken. I can sense great confusion in you. People who are confused are often about to make bad choices. Powerful remedies and herbs give people the power to make a bad choice worse. Give me your hands, so I can divine whether it is safe to give you what you ask for.”
Safe? Of course she was safe. She wouldn’t do any dangerous things, or heaven forbid, poison people.
“I am just a servant. The man in question is a friend of the Regent’s who pays me. Why would I wish him harm?”
“Well, in that case, you shouldn’t be fearful of me looking at your state of mind. Your hands.” She patted the tablecloth.
Fine! She was not afraid.
Nellie held out both her hands, palm up, because that was the way these fortunetellers wanted it, right?
Let this witch “tell her fortunes”. If she spoke truth, then there was nothing to fear, because she wouldn’t do anything, except give the tea to Madame Sabine and get on with her own work, and try to figure out what to do with a dragon.
Well, yeah, the dragon.
If Julianna lied, then . . . well, she lied, and whatever she said had no value anyway.
Julianna took Nellie’s hands in hers.
Nellie had always thought her own hands looked old, with wrinkles and darker spots and one or two places where she’d cut herself and the skin had healed with a scar, but compared to Julianna’s, they were positively young.
Julianna turned Nellie’s hands over, so that the palms faced down. With a crooked finger, she traced a vein that ran over the top of Nellie’s hand. The skin on her index finger was cold.
Then she turned Nellie’s right hand over and similarly traced the folds on the palm of her hand.
It was utterly silent in the room.
No noise came from the street or the houses nextdoor.
Something rustled in the ceiling, probably a rat.
“Hmmmm,” Julianna said, and a moment later again, “Hmmm.”
Nellie wished she’d hurry, because she could stay away from the palace a bit longer than necessary, but if she stayed away too long, there would be questions, and Dora would be angry.
“I sense a great disturbance in your mind.”
“Well, yes, I’ve very busy and I wish I didn’t have to deal with sick nobles, because it’s not something I normally do, but—”
“I sense you’re on the verge of a great change, a great decision that will influence a lot of people.”
“I work in the kitchen. How is that going to make any difference to anyone?” By the Triune, this woman was really as mad as people said she was. “Can I get the berries or not? I’ve got money to pay for them.” Just let me get out of here. It was a mistake to come here. Maybe Els even sent her here on purpose. Who knew?
“I’ll only give out poisons to people whose lives are stable and who are trustworthy.”
“And I am not? Fine. I’ll leave.”
Nellie pushed herself up.
“Wait.”
The voice was so dark and haunting it sounded like it came from the woman’s deepest soul, from an entity that was not part of her earthly body. Nellie had to sit back down.
A cold feeling crept through her.
No, she should never have come here.
She’d been right as a little girl: this woman was more than a creepy-looking hag.
In her travels with Mistress Johanna, Nellie had seen more evil magic than she had ever wished to see, more than she had ever believed to exist. She had seen ghosts, demonpossessed, fire demons. She had seen necromancy.
She should have known better.
“You served the queen,” Julianna said.
Nellie nodded.
“You knew both the queen’s children were strong conduits for magic, not through the woman herself, but through their fathers.”
That was true.
“You know magical entities have struggled to gain control over Saardam for many years, starting before the time of King Nicholaos. Why do you think kings, barons and dukes of the east lined up their children to marry into the royal family? Why do you think the royal family has met with so much violence? They consorted with a church that seeks to ban magic. Magic is the mainstay of all those who sail the waters and those who take boats up the rivers and those whose produce they sell. Magic is in the creation of things. Magic is the core of the ongoing battle for Saardam. The church may try to deny magic all they want, but several magical lines cross each other in the port—wind magic, water magic, wood magic—and the power in those lines is stirring. When I touch your hand, I can feel the magic singing through you.”
“That’s ridiculous. I am the least magical person alive.”
“Yet you are brimming with magic.”
Because of the dragon box. And because of her tussle with the dragon last night. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“If you speak the truth, you will find out soon. This person you come here to buy these berries for, is he a powerful magician?”
“I wouldn’t be able to tell. I am not that type of person.”
“Is he poisoned because he is a magician?”
“I don’t know! I told you many times: I’m not that kind of person. I’m here to get something for stomach pains, but I shouldn’t have come. I didn’t ask to be examined. I don’t want my fortune told. I need the berries.”
“That’s what they all say. Fix this, Julianna, and I’ll be gone. But it’s not that simple, is it? Because everything is connected, from the people we depend on to the people who ask us for help. Why did this lord ask you to help, and not anyone else? He could have sent for me if he had it in his mind. He could have sent for a priest to pray.”
Julianna’s gaze was so intense that Nellie had trouble meeting her eyes. Why, oh why, had Els suggested that she come here?
Because the gin business with the girl-monk was run by magicians, and Els, as a fourteen-year-old, was too inexperienced to see that?
Because Nellie, too trusting, had made the mistake, time and time again, of trusting this girl who had shown herself, time and time again, t
o be unworthy of this trust?
“I understand,” Julianna said after a while, and didn’t elaborate on what she understood.
“I will give you the berries.” She pushed herself up from her seat.
“Thank you,” Nellie said, and she did her utter best to make it sound like You could have stopped wasting my time and given them straight away. She didn’t know if she was successful. Making snippy remarks like that was not her style. It was rude.
But Julianna had been wasting her time, and if she would give the berries anyway, what was the point of all the other nonsense?
Julianna went to a cupboard against the wall behind her and, slowly, with age-trembling hands, opened a drawer and took out a glass jar filled with shrivelled black little balls. She shook a handful into a porcelain bowl and emptied this onto a sheet of paper. She then made a show of folding up the paper into a parcel which she gave to Nellie.
“If the man who is gravely ill is indeed Lord Verdonck, advisor to the Regent, these berries will have no effect on whether he lives or dies, because he will have been poisoned with magic. At any rate, his life is forfeit sooner rather than later. He attempted to interfere with a magic that chooses its own conduit, and that wasn’t his to take. If you are really such an innocent little servant woman, none of this will make any sense to you and you can just go back to your kitchen and live your little life as before. However, if you know why I’m saying these things, know that great magic and powerful conduits of magic are not for the little people to play with. It requires a magician of great skill.”
Hang on—was she saying If you have that box, please give it to me?
Well, by the Triune.
Yes, she bet someone like Julianna would love to have the box and the dragon.
“I assure you, if I ever came across a thing of powerful magic, I would return it to the rightful owner straight away.”
Another intense stare.
“Then it seems we are in agreement.”
“Indeed.” Nellie picked up the parcel with the seeds, stuck it in her satchel with the rest of the shopping, and rose.
She’d show this woman what this poor little servant could do. She might not have a shred of magical ability in her body, but she sure knew that glimmer of greed in Julianna’s eyes.
Chapter 19
NELLIE CAME BACK to the palace kitchens during the chaos of mid-morning.
“Oh, there you are!” Dora called out the moment she stepped into the door. Her face was red from stirring the pan at the stove.
“I’ve brought you the saffron,” Nellie said.
“Must have been very special saffron for the time you were away.”
“It was. The usual place was out of stock. Can I—”
“I need you to help the girls upstairs. Corrie tripped on the stairs and hurt her ankle. I told her to stick her foot in cold water. She can barely walk, let alone carry dishes. Where were you? What’s going on, Nellie? I heard Madame Sabine came down here to speak to you. What was that about?”
Nellie told her of Lord Verdonck’s illness and how Graziela was no longer in town.
“Yes, she was clear about her witchcraft. I liked Graziela, but she was playing with fire. I never understood why Madame Sabine had such a good relationship with her.”
“I do,” Nellie said, and in a few sentences, described Madame Sabine’s injuries.
Dora’s eyes widened. “All right. That makes sense. Better not say anything more about it. That woman is trouble.”
Nellie couldn’t disagree.
She had wanted to make juniper berry tea and take it to Lord Verdonck, but the kitchen was so busy, it would have to wait. She boiled water and let a spoonful of the dried and shrivelled berries soak in the pot. She’d take it up to Lord Verdonck’s room later. The kitchen was low on staff, since Wim was also out of action, so they needed all hands on deck. The Regent’s needs always came first.
As to Wim’s health, Dora informed her he had taken to bed with a sore head but he was still very much alive and she expected him to continue to be alive, if not much of a help right now.
Dora continued, “Mind you, the guards have been in here twice asking about him. It’s like they want him to keel over. I’ve told them to get out and stop wasting our time if they want any food to be served at all. Why are they so concerned about Wim all of a sudden?”
Nellie understood the reason. If the poison wasn’t in the food and wasn’t in the wine, then where had it come from? And more importantly: was the poisoner still in the palace?
That was sure to make the guards nervous. They’d turn over every room in the palace until they found the culprit.
The longer they looked, the more likely it was that the question of the dragon box would surface. If Lord Verdonck recovered, he would notice it was missing. Maybe even Madame Sabine would ask about it. They both knew of its existence, and, judging by the scars, had both experienced its power.
Nellie absolutely had to get rid of it as soon as possible.
This afternoon, she decided, she would go to the church and give it to Shepherd Adrianus so he could return it to the crypt where it belonged.
But first, the midday meal had to be served.
More people were present than this morning. Many of the guests who had not been at breakfast had finally emerged from their rooms. Most of them looked distinctly less noble than they had last night.
Nellie caught shards of conversation about this morning’s accusation made by Adalbert Verdonck, but to her surprise, most people were curious rather than angry.
Down in the kitchen, she said to Dora, “I don’t know about you, but if I’d been at a banquet where people were poisoned, I’d be asking a lot of questions about what I ate.”
“Just count your luck they don’t. We’d be copping the full blast of everyone’s anger.”
And the kitchen had done nothing. Besides, all the food that was taken upstairs was also eaten in the kitchen.
Nellie caught other people talking about Lord Verdonck having asked for trouble and that the situation was his own fault.
A noble lady said, “That son of his is a strange bird. He won’t even come in here and sit at the table with us, like we’re too good for him.”
“They’re very well off, though,” another noble lady said. “I heard that the De Ruyter family proposed a marriage between him and their daughter Josefina, and that they refused because the family didn’t have enough assets.”
A third noblewoman butted in. “I heard they’re heretics. That’s why they won’t sit with us and marry our sons and daughters. And frankly, I wouldn’t want my daughter to marry a heretic, no matter how much money and land they have.”
There were sage nods around the table.
“It’s such a pity that Regent Bernard doesn’t have any daughters,” the first noblewoman said.
The conversation went on, but Nellie moved further down the table and she couldn’t hear them anymore.
The level of support that Regent Bernard got from the local nobles never ceased to surprise her. The Regent had very successfully bought his way into their heads by offering them this food.
When everyone was eating, the Regent got to his feet and asked for quiet.
Great, a speech.
He started a great ramble about his good friends and loyal citizens and that he would always be there for them.
Nellie was stuck listening to it, because she had started clearing the tables, and there was no way she could do that while the Regent was speaking. A few other kitchen servants were also caught up in the crowd. She spotted Els and Maartje standing together and talking in low voices. Nellie wondered what Maartje knew of her sister’s activities.
As she watched the two, it occurred to her she was drawn to girls of Maartje’s type. Els was too in-your-face about everything. Maartje appreciated the position Nellie had made for her. She would work hard and would stay in the employ of the palace until she grew too old or until she married.
> Els, however, would either do something great and would be remembered for all time, or she’d be dead before she was twenty.
Nellie had been like Maartje all her life. What would it be like to be like Els: to be bold and say what she thought? To see the reactions on the faces of the people who demanded respect but deserved none of it?
For a moment, Nellie entertained thoughts of stepping up to the Regent to tell him he’d eaten enough cakes, to tell Shepherd Wilfridus that if he didn’t shout so much in church, she might consider going there, or to tell all the nobles in the city that the must have noticed that Regent Bernard was only interested in them for as long as they told him he was the best man to have ever lived in the palace, and that they should know better than to sell their loyalty for the chance to come to these ridiculous banquets because it made them look dumb.
Sometimes she wished she could say these things.
Nah, she was too old for that stuff.
The Regent kept on speaking, about how the safety of all the guests was his utmost concern. That they were all his dearest friends and that he valued their relationship too much to risk it. Was this going to be one of those occasions where he went on forever? He had a reputation for doing that.
“While I have your attention, I may raise another subject.”
The tone of his voice changed, and people noticed, fell quiet and listened.
“As you are probably aware, my oldest son has reached his adult years.”
Some people laughed.
“Oy, where is your exalted son?” someone called out.
A man said something about a woman’s tits and a bunch of people laughed. Only the men, of course.
If Nellie had to guess, Casper was still in bed with a sore head.
Once, Nellie had wished for that kind of luxury, but now she realised that even if she were rich and never had to get up early, she still would. Because all the people she had respected who were rich got up early. Mistress Johanna and her father both got up early. People who were lazy got nothing done and always arrived after others had already made the important decisions. They might have money, but weren’t often very good at keeping that money. Because that was one thing Nellie had learned: having money, and estates, and a business, was a lot of work. It was different work than the work she did, but it was work, and it was not easy, and you had to be smart.
