But she had come, and she had made her request. Turning back was no longer a choice. Lady Mylene and those still alive at Raven Hold were counting on her to return with a cure. Would that she had been able to retrieve a remedy for the plague from anyone else, but none could heal such maladies as Mother Safi. And if the old woman demanded a price, it must be met. But what price?
Mother Safi said, “Of course there’s a price, girl. Compassion and generosity can no fill the bellies of my wee ones, now, can they?”
Wina’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth when she caught the weasel staring at her. Intelligence shone from its blood-red eyes, a knowledge far greater than should be possessed by a lowly animal. She swallowed, wishing for a cool drink to cut the sudden dryness from her throat.
“Have you no answer for Old Safi?” the crone asked, voice light, cajoling. She shifted her considerable bulk, making her chair creak and groan. She went still, enveloped by shadows.
Wina forced herself to look away from the weasel, and peered into the pocket of darkness concealing Mother Safi. She could not understand how the woman stayed hidden when candlelight easily bathed the length and breadth of the roughhewn table between them, with its litter of arcane objects and devices, bundled herbs; its arrays of rounded flasks filled with bubbling and noxious fluids of every pestilent hue, assorted skulls … and other things, those that did not bear considering. Mayhap the shadows clinging to Old Safi were just some trick, akin to those she had played on the children of Raven Hold before Lord Gafford had sent her off twenty years ago. Safi had always been one for devilishly elaborate pranks.
“Answer me, child, or be gone,” Mother Safi said, all wheedling gentleness now absent.
“Perhaps not of its own accord,” Wina said, struggling to keep her voice steady, “but compassion of the heart can guide the hand that provides food.” She wondered at these wee ones Safi had mentioned. Surely a woman of her years could not had conceived a child, let alone more than one. “Trust that if you require food for recompense, why, Lady Mylene will gratefully fill your larder.”
“My larder?” Mother Safi abruptly tossed the weasel aside, and thrust her face full into the candlelight. Milky spittle flecked her lips, more wetted her chin. “Think you to come trade breath and promises for the magic of the Wight Stone? Think you Mother Safi is so unwise as to trade a bite of bread for such power … or is it your mistress who judges me the fool?” As she spoke, the fingers of one hand curled into a fist, ragged nails digging into her palm. A single drop of blood squeezed out and fell to the tabletop.
Stark terror froze Wina.
Mother Safi loomed nearer, a wrinkled hag rumored to have lived three lifetimes, each and every day of those lives bitter and torturous. Yet hers was more than an ugliness of creases, rheumy eyes, and bones ancient and bent. Within her lay cruelty sheathed in spite.
Wina mustered courage enough to speak. “It’s known within Raven Hold, the Tanglewood, and all through the Iron Marches, that you are no fool,” she said evenly. “And but for urgent need, I wouldn’t have come at all … for it’s also known that you do not idly suffer guests. As to prices, speak your desire, and what is within my strength and authority to give I shall make it so.”
“Shall you indeed?” Mother Safi’s fingers tightened, and a second drop of blood joined the first.
Wina grimaced, imagining she could feel those fingers at her throat, wrapping tight. But that could not be. Surely not. It was just one of Safi’s unkind tricks.
“Give me the cure I seek to end the plague and restore the sick,” Wina said, unable to speak above a fearful whisper, “and…….” She trailed off, unsure if she had the courage to add her mistress’ sole condition. But she had to say it, for things must be clear between Mother Safi and the people of Raven Hold. “Fill our need, and after your cure has proven its worth, you shall be paid.”
“Service before compensation, is that the way of it?”
Wina drew herself up. “That’s Lady Mylene’s one and only condition.”
For a long time, Mother Safi weighed that, her bland expression revealing nothing. Wina feared she had gone too far in her demands, but then the old witch spoke.
“Very well, child, I will make known to you that which will heal Raven Hold.” With her bloody hand, Mother Safi caught hold of a wolf’s skull resting between them. Tipping it, she shook vigorously. Flaky bits of dried flesh and a few hairs sifted down, then an amulet and chain rattled out of the eye socket, and dropped onto the table….
Catch the rest in June 2013!
About James
My name is James, and I live in a fantasy world. Okay, not really, but I write about them. It’s Stephen King’s fault. I read The Talisman when I was thirteen, and I’ve lived in my fantasy world ever since. As soon as I finished that book, I was hooked. I knew I was going to be a writer. Of course, someone forgot to inform life about my plans, so I’ve had several different jobs. I proudly served in the US Army, spent a year as a long-haul truck driver with my wife (who is also my high-school sweetheart), and I attended the University of Montana. While I was there I enrolled in a creative writing course, and I couldn’t resist the call of writing any longer. Next thing I knew, words started to flow and worlds were born. Now I live and write in Montana with my wife and my bodyguard, a Mini-Schnauzer named Jonesy. I also eat copious amounts of chips and salsa :)
Life is good!
Heirs of the Fallen: Book 03 - Shadow and Steel Page 22
