by Sharon Shinn
The other reason Elizabeth was enjoying life so much these days was that she loved working with Mary. The initial two-week apprenticeship had become full-time employment since, as Mary had predicted, her original helper never did come back. That was perfectly fine with Elizabeth. Every day she worked with Mary she learned something new, and every day the healer spoke to her with approval. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone in her life had appreciated her on a consistent basis. Oh, her mother had loved her, had complimented her often on her beauty and her sense of fashion, but the things her mother had valued had been useless, really, when their old life had fallen apart. These days, she was being commended on her quick wit, her ability to learn, her steady hands, and her cool nerve. Qualities she had not even known she possessed, but qualities that seemed to benefit her more than a heart-shaped face or ropes of auburn hair.
At Mary’s side, she had treated broken bones, massive hemorrhages, gangrenous toes, dehydration, rashes, fevers, and hysteria. She’d seen three women give birth, and one almost die from the experience. No little angels had come into the world under Elizabeth’s watch, but Mary said she had delivered about a dozen in her time.
“They’re rare,” she said. “And difficult.”
“Difficult how?”
Mary shook her head. “In many ways. So often an angel child is a stillbirth, or a child that dies only a few hours after it’s taken from the womb. It’s as if whatever there is in angel blood isn’t meant to mix with mortal blood—as if there’s an alien compound in there somewhere. And the angel children that do survive often kill their mothers on their way to being born. They’re too big. You wouldn’t think their wings would bulk them up so much, but they make the passage hard. More than once, if I’ve thought the chance was good that it was an angel child inside, I’ve knifed open the mother’s belly and cut the baby out. Saved more than one life, I promise you.”
Elizabeth listened to this recitation with some dismay. “But then—if I become pregnant—or Faith—”
“I know it’s what you’re both wishing for. But the minute you’re carrying an angel child, you’re putting your life at risk. Think of that next time you meet that dark boy at night.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “If I ever find I’m carrying David’s child, I’ll move in with you. I’ll follow you everywhere. I’ll never be more than three feet behind you till the day I deliver.”
Mary smiled. “Well, that’ll improve your chances, that’s for certain. That’s the best I can promise.”
But nothing—not the frequency of their meetings, not the dried herbs, not the simply wishing for it so much—did anything to improve Elizabeth’s ability to conceive. Again, she was intensely disappointed when her monthly bleeding stained her morning clothing. She had had an angel lover for more than two months; she had desperately hoped for better results than this.
But someone in Tola’s house, it appeared, was actually able to celebrate. A week later, Shiloh came down to the dinner table, all smug and blushing. “I have news,” she informed the rest of the residents, pretending modesty but clearly gloating. “I am carrying the child of the angel Stephen.”
Of course, they all had to act as if they were happy for her, and lavish her with attention, and offer to fetch things for her if she grew tired or sick. But Faith and Elizabeth exchanged private glances and shared their true opinions later that night in their room.
“Of all the lucky cows!” Faith spat out. “And I don’t know how she can be sure it’s the angel Stephen’s child she’s carrying, when she’s been in the beds of half a dozen other men. That I know of!”
“How did she get him to notice her? He never speaks to anyone except the other angels.”
Faith made an unattractive sound. “All the men notice Shiloh. I think she uses potions.”
“Potions,” Elizabeth repeated, intrigued by the idea. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
Faith laughed. “Oh, you know of some?”
“Mary was telling me. Something about a love potion made from manna seeds. Does that really work? Or is it just a fable?”
Faith laughed again. “I’ve never actually tried any, but the storyis that if you grind them up and put them in the food of the man you’re interested in, he’ll fall in love with you.”
“Huh,” Elizabeth said. “Mary and I use the salve all the time.”
“Does she have seeds, too?” Faith asked.
“I’ll ask her tomorrow. I’m seeing David again in a couple of days. Now would be the time to mix up a potion.”
“Could you—if there was enough—”
“I’ll get some for you, too,” Elizabeth said with a grin. “Those boys will fall in love with us yet.”
Mary was less than impressed by Elizabeth’s reasoning when Elizabeth made the request the following morning. “Oh, sweet god of the skies and waters,” she exclaimed. “Don’t you girls ever think about anything except snaring the attention of an angel?”
“Not very often,” Elizabeth replied.
Mary hunted through the sealed jars on one of her tall book-shelves. She did own about thirty books, all tattered and much-read medical texts, but most of the shelves contained other items: boxes, vials, dried roots, a bone or two that Elizabeth had never had the nerve to examine too closely. “Don’t you have more pride than to try to make a man love you against his will? Wouldn’t you rather have him court you because of your pretty laugh or your kind heart than because you’d poured an elixir into his wine?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “I don’t care why he loves me, just as long as he does. Anyway, I don’t even care if David loves me. I just want—” She searched for the right words. “A little more of his time.”
Mary turned away from the shelves, a tall jar in her hand. It was filled to the brim with tiny white seeds no bigger than grains of rice. “I don’t even know if this tale is true,” she said.
“How much should I use?”
Mary shook her head. “I don’t know that either.”
Elizabeth was alarmed. “Well, I don’t want to kill him!”
Mary laughed. “It’s manna. It’s a gift from the god. I don’t think it’ll kill anybody, no matter how much you dose him with.” She opened the jar and shook about a half a cup of seeds into a small bowl. “That being said, I’d use some caution if I were you. No more than ten grains in whatever you serve your angel lover. Grind them up finely and put them in something with a strong flavor of its own.”
“Will he be able to taste it?”
“Who knows? I’ve never been so foolish as to try such a thing! But most ingredients you add to a recipe have some kind of tang. Cover it up as best you can.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much,” Elizabeth said, pouring the seeds into a blue handkerchief and knotting it up securely. “I’ll pay you, of course. What do they cost?”
Mary just watched her with a peculiar smile on her face, shaking her head. “They’re a gift from the god,” she said again. “And all such gifts are free.”
Faith and Elizabeth spent a good couple of hours that night grinding the hard white seeds into powder, a task complicated by the fact that they didn’t have the right tools. They’d borrowed a cutting board and some heavy glassware from the kitchen, and these had to serve for mortar and pestle, but they were left with a lot of hulls and oversize chunks that they feared might be visible in water or wine.
“But ale,” Faith said. “That’s got a strong taste, and you’d be likely to overlook something like this floating around in the foam.”
“David doesn’t drink ale,” Elizabeth said glumly. “Only wine.”
“Well, try to crush it down again.”
In the end, they came up with a few teaspoonfuls of a respectable enough powder, which they divided equally.
“Will David wonder why you’ve brought him wine, since you’ve never come to his room with liquor before?” Faith asked.
“I don’t think so. He’ll just be happy it’s there.”
<
br /> “Will he wonder why you don’t drink any?”
Elizabeth laughed. “I don’t think so,” she said again. “Anyway, I might have a taste or two. Why not? Mary said that, according to the legend, the manna seed is only supposed to have an effect on men.”
“And even if the potion worked on you—” Faith began.
Elizabeth shrugged. “Is that so bad? To fall in love with him?”
Faith sighed. “I’m already in love with Jason.”
“Then I hope this potion works on him.”
They both had assignations planned with their lovers the following night, Faith meeting Jason at a concert in the main hall, Elizabeth, as always, awaiting David in his room. He was just unreliable enough that she did not want to uncork the wine and pour in the powder before he arrived, because what if he never showed up at all? There was a good bottle of wine, and a few hours’ worth of work, wasted. But she did not want him to see her sifting substances into his drink. So she carried in the unopened bottle and two white ceramic mugs, and poured the powder into one. He would laugh at the container, but she didn’t think he would disdain the offering.
And, in fact, he seemed both touched and greedy when he entered the room a couple of hours later, none too steady on his feet. “Aha! I thought I remembered!” he exclaimed when he saw her. “This was to be our night! I couldn’t remember absolutely positively, but I hoped! Yes, I did, I hoped you’d be here. I even left my party early.”
She smiled at him and gave him a cursory kiss. “Well, since you’ve had to pass on a few rounds with your friends, maybe I can make it up to you,” she said. “I brought a bottle of wine for us to share. I hope it’s a kind you like? It’s from a Manadavvi vineyard.”
Tola, who knew most everything, had recommended both the brand and the seller, so Elizabeth was not entirely surprised when David let out an exclamation of satisfaction. “Give me anything from a Manadavvi field, and I’ll drink it from now till sunrise,” he said, snatching up the bottle to examine it. “Well done, my surprising little laundress. Well done.”
He pried out the cork and she made sure he drank from the proper container. As she’d foreseen, he laughed at her choice of glassware, but he approved of the gesture so much that the mockery didn’t last for long. If the manna root had any bitter aftertaste, it wasn’t evident by the satisfaction with which David downed his second and third mugs of the wine. Elizabeth contented herself with one serving, impressed by the wine’s smooth taste and heady effects. No wonder everyone raved about the Manadavvi vineyards.
Whether the secret powder had any instant impact on David she couldn’t judge. He certainly turned quickly from imbibing to embracing, but the quality of the lovemaking was no different, as far as she could tell. But she thought the potion might be like disease or fever, slow to take hold but impossible to shake, and so she wasn’t too worried when the night did not end with any passionate declarations of love.
“Next week, then?” she asked as she was pulling her clothes back on. “Our usual schedule?”
“That sounds good,” David said drowsily, watching her body disappear beneath the folds of fabric. “It’s always good to see my little laundress.”
She kissed him again and let herself out.
Faith had had significantly better luck with her portion, raving so much about Jason’s tenderness and stamina that Elizabeth started to feel a little jealous. She didn’t get to hear the story till the following day, because Faith spent the night in her angel’s arms, listening to him tell her that he loved her.
“I am delirious with happiness,” Faith claimed, spinning around the room with her hands clasped beneath her chin and her eyes raised heavenward toward the god. “A gift from Jovah indeed! Thank you, great god, thank you!”
“When do you see him again?” Elizabeth said, throttling down her uncharitable emotions.
“Tonight! And tomorrow night! And maybe every night after that! Elizabeth, I think he may be truly in love with me!”
“I am happy for you,” Elizabeth forced herself to say. And it was true, except she would have been happier had she had a similar story to report.
“Maybe he will love me forever, even if I never bear his child. Maybe he will—maybe he will make me his wife. Angels marry, don’t they? Some of them.”
“The leaders of the hosts at the three holds,” Elizabeth said. “I don’t know about the other angels.”
“But there’s no reason they can’t marry.”
“None that I know of.”
Faith started spinning again. “I shall be an angel’s wife, and live in the hold, and Rachel and Gabriel shall invite me to their dinners, and I shall stand beside the angels on the Plain of Sharon every year when it is time to sing the Gloria—”
Elizabeth smiled, because it was really hard to believe any of this would come true. “Unless you get so dizzy that you fall and hit your head and forget your own name, let alone your lover’s,” she said.
Faith came to a shaky halt and stood there looking wobbly for a moment. “And I shall invite you to all my angel parties, and you shall meet someone who is much kinder and more attentive than David, and you shall bear twenty angel children, and we shall be happy the rest of our lives.”
“Twenty?” Elizabeth repeated. “I think I’d be happy with one.”
“Then you shall just bear one,” Faith said. “But we shall still be very happy. And always the best of friends.”
“Yes,” said Elizabeth, who had never had a friend before and was surprised to find out that she really did expect to know Faith the rest of her life. “We’ll always be the best of friends.”
Elizabeth brought more of her ground-up powder to her next two trysts with David, and he happily drank down the spiked wine, but it still seemed to have no effect on him. Or no greater effect.
“Maybe I’m just not very lovable,” Elizabeth said to Mary a couple of weeks later, when the healer asked how the bewitching was proceeding. “David certainly shows me no more affection than he ever has.”
“Maybe even before you gave him the potion, he already loved you as much as he’s capable of loving anyone,” Mary observed. “Did you consider that?”
Elizabeth thought that over for a moment. “That’s a little sad.”
Mary smiled faintly. “Maybe you’d better look around for someone who’s got a greater capacity for love.”
The angel Jason certainly seemed to have that capacity, for he had become simply enamored of Faith. He even came to Tola’s house once or twice to fetch her, causing all the girls to sigh and coo over his long, silky blond hair and his boyish smile. Only Shiloh affected disinterest in him, smoothing her hands over her stomach when he was introduced to her, as if to communicate without words that Faith might have won a prize, but Shiloh had earned the ultimate trophy.
But even in Faith’s sunny life, storm clouds were forming. “He has to go back to Gaza,” she told Elizabeth one night through a frenzy of tears. “To Monteverde. And he’s leaving in three days!”
“For how long?” Elizabeth asked.
“I don’t know! Forever! Ariel is sending some other angel down here, and Jason is going back to Monteverde. I shall never see him again!”
“Yes you will, of course you will. He has said he loves you, and I’m sure he means it. He will send for you, or you can follow him—”
“I can’t move to Monteverde uninvited!”
“No, but there is a city nearby. You could live there. You could find work there as easily as you have here, and you could be near him—”
“What if he doesn’t want me to come?”
“What if he does?”
Faith paced around the room. It was late at night, and she had been crying since about noon, when she received the news. She looked awful. Her dark, curly hair was tangled and knotted; her face was blotched with red, and her nose looked sore and puffy. The wild expression on her face didn’t help, either.
“I think the potion is wearing off,” F
aith admitted. “I think—these last few days—he still seems fond of me, but he doesn’t seem so infatuated. He didn’t seem at all upset by the thought of leaving me behind! I think he’s tired of me.”
“We’ll grind up more of the grains,” Elizabeth said. “He’ll be sure to take you to Monteverde then.”
Faith shook her head. “No, I—if he doesn’t want me—well, I’ll do just fine. I will. I just—I was hoping—this time I would have an angel baby, this time it would be all right.”
A few more incoherent exchanges like this, and Elizabeth had heard enough. “That’s it. You’re going to bed.”
“I can’t. I won’t sleep. I’ll just lie there—”
Elizabeth was already rummaging through a little satchel she’d bought, much like Mary’s, only not nearly so full of interesting concoctions. “You’ll take one of these tablets, and you’ll sleep well enough,” Elizabeth said firmly. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”
Indeed, Faith slept through the night and seemed much calmer the next day, though pale and apathetic. “You come home early tonight and you go straight to bed,” Elizabeth told her.
“I can’t,” Faith said with a sigh. “I’m meeting Jason for dinner.”
“Well, then, you come home and take a good long nap. And when you get up, you put on your best dress and braid your hair back in a fancy style. Make yourself so beautiful that he won’t be able to leave you behind.”
“Three more days,” Faith said in a whisper. “He’s leaving in three more days.”
“Three days left to love him, then,” Elizabeth said.
As for herself, she had no interesting appointments to keep that night, so she agreed to go out with a group of the other women from the house. They went to a new restaurant, one that had just opened on the west edge of town and was designed to accommodate large parties that didn’t have a lot of money. Elizabeth looked around the big, open room, all whitewashed walls and dark supporting timbers, and thought she might have seen this place when it was still a pile of lumber and nails. She and Mary had been in this very neighborhood on the first morning that Elizabeth had worked for the healer, when they had been summoned to sew shut a man’s bleeding head.
