by Jeff Wheeler
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 thevosang.”
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 have 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 thevosang 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.”
Danai’s tears flowed freely. “Your lies and deceit are like the leaves on a head of lettuce. I fear that if I accept anything you say, I will end up peeling all the leaves away and find nothing beneath.” The trap now sprung seemed inescapable. “But what choice do I have?”
Merdrid nodded solemnly. “There is but one choice—you know what you must do. Let us make the switch, I will deliver the last secret of the cure to you, and I will leave. You can tell the soldiers how I beguiled you, took the bloodstone mortar and the pendant, and fled the valley. They may keep a presence here for a while, but they will have to conclude that it was Danai who was most wicked and the true target they seek. You will be in the clear, with your father and others in the valley restored to health, and you can live the rest of your days working as the valley apothecant, who saved everyone from the blue moth plague.”
Danai had already decided she would give her life to save the eight people in the valley. She knew her decision. “I will do it.”
“It will take but a moment to prepare.” Merdrid reached down into her pack and pulled out a long vial made of dark green glass. It had flakes of some kind within, but Danai could not tell their color through the dark glass. Merdrid continued. “First, you must remove the pendant.”
Danai reluctantly pulled the cord over her head and felt the weight of vosang lay on her shoulders. The fog returned to her mind, though it was less dense than before. She saw Merdrid as the older woman she knew again, feeling nothing but loathing for her. Danai’s fingers shook again as she set the pendant on the table.
Merdrid pulled the stopper out of the vial and shook a few flakes into the bowl of the mortar. The light caught them as they fell, glittering a brilliant gold. Next, Merdrid took up the stout-bladed knife. “Don’t worry, Sis; it will only take a little blood.” The older woman reached out and grabbed Danai’s wrist, pulling her hand over the mortar. Danai did not resist. The blade of the knife flicked against the side of her wrist, stinging like a wasp, and blood started dribbling into the mortar. True to her word, after a few dribbles, Merdrid placed a cloth against the wound and released her grip. Merdrid then added her own blood.
Merdrid then spoke several words in a tongue Danai did not recognize, and she wondered if they were names or a whole different language. Instantly, the room felt colder, despite the fire burning in the stove. Danai was left with the distinct impression that they were not alone. She looked around, but saw no one there.
The air grew thin and chilly; Danai gasped to find breath that satisfied her lungs. Merdrid’s words became recognizable and
little puffs of fog left her mouth with each syllable. “I make this oath of my own free will, and commit my blood to seal it. By the power of the vivos sanguine, my body shall be hers and her body shall be mine. By my oath, I shall make this transfer to continue my work and dedication to your cause throughout all the days that blood may flow in my new body.”
Pressure swelled in Danai’s head; it ached and throbbed. She nearly fell to the ground, but held onto the tabletop with both hands to stay upright. The pressure within her mind seemed to gather into a single entity, and became Merdrid’s consciousness. It was a strong, dark presence, ugly and brutal. She felt violated, like Merdrid was pilfering through her secret thoughts and memories. “Stop that!” she thought.
“You need to say your oath out loud, and leave this body. Once you are gone, your memories will be with you.” Merdrid’s words bit like a venomous snake.
Danai realized something, “You knew this would work because this is not the first time you have stolen another’s body.”
Merdrid’s mind dwelled on a memory of this same oath with another girl. Even though she had not thought the words, Danai could see the image for a fleeting moment. That realization led to another. If Merdrid’s life were extended for all of Danai’s days, she would use those days not to heal, but to take lives and manipulate people to suit her own desires, or the desires of whatever being reached out to them through the bloodstone.
“Say the oath, or I will kill you and your father right now.” Merdrid’s words stabbed, and her head ached with each syllable.
“What is the last ingredient to the cure?” Danai expected the wave of pain that followed her question. She was not disappointed. Merdrid’s mind slammed her consciousness like an anvil falling from the sky. Danai thought she might die that very moment, but she did not. As Merdrid’s mind pressed against her own, Danai sought images or thoughts that would betray the answer to the question she had asked. For a split second, she saw the closer of the two black bottles with neat labels in Merdrid’s consciousness. As Danai recognized the bottle, Merdrid’s thoughts howled and ravaged against her own.
