Chapter 14

E velyn let out a groan of frustration as yet another experiment fizzled and failed, leaving nothing but a scorched pile of dirt and wisps of blue smoke in the air.

At least she now had a makeshift worktable. Erwin was still working on the permanent furnishings for the shop, but in the meantime, he'd cobbled together a temporary table by placing two wide, scarred planks across two empty barrels he'd salvaged from a ship down at the port. The result wasn't pretty, but it was functional and didn't wobble. Although, looking at the pile of ash, she wondered if there was some kind of spell she could perform to protect the table Erwin was building from scratch. She hated the idea of marring his hard work.

Across the room, Archie made a tutting sound by clacking his beak together. Evelyn spun on her sock-clad heel and pointed at him. "I don't want to hear it."

The owl ruffled his wings indignantly and turned away from her to warm his front on the dwindling flames in the fire. In addition to her experiments, Evelyn had also worked on the various potions and salves she'd promised to take to the farmers, and she had only a few more items left to brew before she could make a return visit.

A finger of dread curled through her gut as she stalked to the back of the shop and threw open the door to let in some fresh air. Twilight was rapidly descending, the first twinkles of stars peeking through the clouds. Yet another day, in a long string of days, had come and gone, and left her with nothing to show for it.

"Why won't you just write to Rona?"

Evelyn flinched at the question, or was it at the sound of her coven leader's name?

"You don't have magic books, they do," Archie continued. "This seems rather simple to me."

"I have some magic books," Evelyn argued, feeling childish and sullen even as the retort left her lips.

"Yes, and you've read them all. Twice."

He wasn't wrong, loath as she was to admit it aloud. She'd started reading while they were still on the road, looking through her collection—limited though it may be—for anything that might help reverse a blight. She'd found very little. The spells she did find were in no way powerful enough to lift such a widespread blight, and certainly not strong enough to lift a witch's curse.

Still, hardheaded as she was, she'd tried the spells she knew—spells that brought a more bountiful harvest, spells that banished pesky insects, spells that fortified plants to survive a harsh winter snap, spells meant to increase growth speed. Each bottle of soil collected from the orchards and farms and forest had been studied and tested and used up as she tried spell after spell, and potion after potion.

All to no avail.

She tipped her chin up toward the moon. The days were growing longer, the weather more mild. In another week or two, she would not need the fire to warm the shop at night. Summer was well on its way.

"For all you know, Lady Kilgour has already written and told Rona what you're up to," Archie added, placing the thought in Evelyn's mind the way a fisherman would drop a baited line into a river.

Evelyn's molars ground together.

She hadn't spoken to Rona since the day she and the four other leaders gathered around Caele's monolith in the heart of Everspring Glade, and asked for the goddess's blessing to travel with Evelyn on her journey to Benenfar, and to watch over her as she served the crown.

The last time she had heard from Rona was when she sent the letter Evelyn had dreaded for months. She could still recall the weight of it as she'd stood at the base of her tower, tears sliding down her face before she even broke the wax seal. Inside, in the coven leader's neat script, was the news that her mother had passed, peacefully, in her sleep, having succumbed to the illness that plagued her for years.

A knock at the door yanked Evelyn from the heavy shroud of memory. She jerked upright and whirled around, as Archie gave a startled hoot and flew to the window to peer outside. "It's that cobbler woman," he said.

"Maeve," Evelyn said, sniffling to banish the unshed tears in her eyes. As she crossed the shop, she brushed her soil-covered hands off on her apron, then opened the door.

Maeve and Sio smiled at her, their hands interlocked between them, and while they both smiled softly, there was a glimmer of concern in their eyes. "Evening, Evelyn," Maeve said, her gaze darting beyond the witch's shoulder for the barest moment. "Is everything all right over here?"

Sio smiled. "I must say, we're impressed by the breadth of foul words and swears you know."

"You heard all that?" Heat washed over Evelyn's cheeks. "I-I'm sorry. It's been a rather… frustrating week." Reluctantly, she tossed a glance over her shoulder to the smattering of scorch marks across her worktable. "I didn't realize the walls were quite so thin."

Maeve chuckled. "Sio wanted to start a drinking game, where we would each take a swig every time we heard you curse."

Sio chuckled. "It's likely for the best we didn't."

Archie gave an amused hoot at this, seeming to warm to their neighbors as he hopped closer. "She could make even the guards blush back in?—"

"Our hometown," Evelyn interrupted, her eyes wide as they cut to her familiar.

Archie, realizing the near misstep, hopped back and fluttered his wings.

Maeve and Sio exchanged a sidelong glance.

"In any case," Evelyn hurried to say, "I'll try to keep it down. My apologies for the disruption."

Maeve's smile returned. "Oh, we didn't come for an apology. If we cared about noisy neighbors, we'd have left the Row a long time ago." The smile widened as the cobbler leaned in. "We came to rescue you."

Evelyn frowned. "From what?"

"From yourself," Maeve replied, adding a wink.

Sio chuckled. "What Maeve means is that we're on our way to the night market in the hilltop district, and we wanted to stop by and see if you'd like to come along."

"Because you need a break," Maeve added. "You've been locked in here for days!"

"Oh…" Evelyn glanced over her shoulder once more, and considered the shimmer of silver-blue steam rising from her cauldron. The sleeping draught was nearly done.

"She'd love to go!" Archie interjected, sending Evelyn spinning her head back around. "I'll keep an eye on everything here," he added, cutting off her protest before it could pass her lips. "If anything catches fire, I'll come find you."

"Somehow that's not all that reassuring," Evelyn muttered, but she could feel her resistance starting to give way. Some fresh air would do her good… and there was a chance that the vendor with the delicious pomegranate wine might be there.

Perhaps a certain herb merchant, too.

Although that thought was met with a mixture of both anticipation and embarrassment, as she hadn't seen him since running out on their dinner at The Kelpie's Rest.

"You're in for a treat," Maeve said as Evelyn donned her cloak and stepped outside. "The local cooks and bakers save all their best stuff for the night market, in an attempt to catch the attention of one of the wealthy merchants. A key patron, from the right household, can provide a lot of stability."

Evelyn looked to Sio. "Are there artisans, too? Surely your glassworks would be quite popular. From the little bit I saw of the homes in the district, they have an affinity for colored glass."

"I don't have enough to stock a weekly booth," Sio replied. "Most of my time is spent working on more practical pieces. If anything, I'd be better suited for the market here in old town, but then there would be no one to mind the shop. "

Evelyn nodded. "I see."

Sio smiled at her. "In truth, I prefer it this way. Without someone trying to dictate how my art should look."

Maeve nodded heartily and slipped her arm through Sio's.

The three of them made their way up the hill, following the glowing lights of the hilltop district. "I must say, I'm rather curious how much fairy moss they go through in a season!" Evelyn said with a snort. "It must take a fleet of foragers to find enough to keep the lanterns stocked!"

Fairy moss grew quickly, but it was one plant that would only grow in forested regions, and therefore had to be gathered and brought into cities to use in lanterns. Major cities, such as Shieglas, would have employees whose sole duties would revolve around gathering the moss from the woods, and stocking the lanterns and lamps. Usually there was another group who would then go out before dusk to add water to the moss, allowing it to glow brightly throughout the night until it dried out.

"Indeed," Sio agreed with a grin. "Though, I must say, for as overbearing as it can be, I do enjoy the way the colors meld together."

The hilltop district was aglow in hues of purple, blue, fuchsia, and soft greens, the colors spilling out from the various lanterns to form something of a patchwork of color across the carefully laid cobbles in the main square .

Evelyn quickly noticed the differences between the daytime market and the night market. The booths were arranged in more or less the same fashion, but the goods were displayed with far more care, and the vendors spoke in softer tones and threw around pleasant smiles. None of them shouted out their offerings or promising deals or cajoling people into coming near.

The jewelry was finer, the stones real and not resin. The tapestries were thicker and carried a higher price. Pottery was painted, baskets were more ornate, and a perfumer scented the air with notes of jasmine and daphne.

She did not see raw, unprepared foods available for sale, but instead found booths selling stews, grilled meats and vegetables, and flaky pies. The wine merchant from the Festival of Blooms had a stall, where several folks gathered, laughing and clinking their glasses together. The memory pulled at her and she scanned the square for signs of Coren.

"Looking for something in particular?" Maeve asked.

"Oh, um, I wondered if perhaps the herb merchant might be here."

Maeve's dark brows waggled. "Coren Thorneheart. He's caught your eye, has he?"

"What? No—it's just, uh, his herbs are of the highest quality."

"Uh huh." Maeve laughed. "Many women in Shieglas admire his... herbs. "

"Maeve thinks herself something of a matchmaker," Sio interjected, as she reined her lover to her side. "You'll have to forgive her nosiness."

"Is that really such a bad thing? Besides, a witch and an herb merchant? It's quite perfect if you ask me," Maeve continued.

"Yes, but no one did, my love," Sio replied, giving Evelyn a smile. "Now, where should we start? I'd like to look at some of the leatherwork before we leave. I'd like to purchase a second apron, and the traveling merchant who was here last month had quite reasonable prices. I should have just bought it then and there, as I've been thinking about it ever since."

Sio navigated them past a juggler who had the rapt attention of a pack of children.

But before they made it much further, someone called Sio's name, and they turned toward a stall selling tankards of ale. Three burly men jeered and called for Sio, trying to goad her into a drinking game. Maeve giggled and towed Sio over to them. Evelyn started to follow, but it was clear the group were friends, and she would be on the outside. Instead, she continued to wander, admiring the stalls and the decorations. Music floated through the square, and she tried to lose herself in the melody and shake off the lingering frustration of the day.

She also wondered where Coren might be.

Just before she circled back to the ale stall, she stopped before a table where a vendor had a platter of sliced bread and several jars of preserves open and ready for sampling.

"Good evening, my lady," the vendor, an elf man with a long face and kind eyes, said. "Would you like to try something?"

Evelyn matched his smile and leaned in. "Mmm. What is this one?" she asked, straightening a bit to gesture toward a jar filled with a dark brown paste. "It smells like apple tarts."

"Close," the elf replied, lifting one long finger. "I call it apple butter, as it is smooth as butter and melts on your tongue. Here—" He scooped out a generous amount and spread it on one wafer of toasted bread. "Try it."

Evelyn took a bite and couldn't hold back a moan of pleasure. "Stars above! That's delicious!"

The elf inclined his head in a graceful gesture. "You are too kind."

Evelyn was already reaching for her coin purse before she'd even managed to swallow the rest of the bread.

After that, she went on to purchase a few small clay jars, and a set of tea towels that were embroidered with tiny chickens at each corner—if for no other reason than they would set Archie into a tailspin every time she brought them out for use. Maeve and Sio lingered in the stall, drinking a pint of ale with their friends, before catching up to Evelyn.

They watched the musicians for a bit, until Maeve began pestering Sio to dance with her, upon which Sio became fascinated by something all the way on the other side of the plaza and went to investigate.

Eventually, they decided to head back to Sailcloth Row, but Evelyn wound up leaving on her own, a bit ahead of the other two, when they went to say goodnight to their friends. She didn't mind walking alone, and hummed one of the band's songs as she wandered down the hillside at a leisurely pace.

It wasn't until she neared Sailcloth Row that she recognized the prickling sensation of someone at her back. She turned, expecting to see Sio and Maeve, but instead found an older man with a mass of silver hair. His body was reedy and lithe, but she could tell from the way he carried himself that he had once carried a fair bit of muscle.

"Ah, I was wondering when you might notice me," he said, flashing a cold smile.

Evelyn stopped and turned to fully face him. "I'm sorry? Have we met?"

He strode nearer, his hands hanging loose at his sides. "So, you're the new healer, huh?" The man gave her a once over, his thin lips pressed into a wrinkled pucker. "A witch, they say."

Fear snaked up Evelyn's spine. The look in his eyes was neither friendly nor curious. The words were accusatory and menacing .

"I'm the healer in Shieglas," he added. "We don't have a need for your… service. So, you see to it that you keep on moving soon. Perhaps the next town will need you."

Evelyn lifted her chin and did her best to ignore her rising sense of panic. "With all due respect, sir, I don't believe you can tell me where to go or when."

Why was Sailcloth Row so dark? The nearest lantern was entirely too far, allowing too many shadows to settle across the narrow street. And where were Sio and Maeve?

She skirted a glance past the man, but couldn't see—or hear—either of them.

She was alone.

Archie would be in her shop, of course, but she didn't want to turn and run.

"Listen, I'm trying to be polite and neighborly here," Jarvis added, flashing a smile that made Evelyn's skin crawl. "Folks in the village told me some sort of witch was going around, stirring up trouble and saying she meant to open an apothecary." He chuckled, though the tone was humorless. " That would be a mistake, my dear. Do you understand?"

"Oi! Jarvis, you leave her alone."

Evelyn turned toward the voice, surprised to see Trudy sliding from the shadows, a broom in hand. The elf woman caught Evelyn's eye, but her expression remained stony.

Jarvis's beady eyes flashed. "This isn't your fight. If she was here to open a bait shop, I'd expect you to involve yourself, but as it stands?—"

"She's my neighbor," Trudy interrupted. "And we take care of our own here on the Row. Besides that, it seems to me you should welcome the extra pair of hands, Jarvis. We both know you've been a bit absent as of late."

Jarvis's lip curled back and he flung out a hand toward Evelyn, fast enough she backed up a step and bumped into a stack of wooden crates set out in front of the shop beside Trudy's. "She's a witch! Can't you see the runes on her cloak?"

Trudy leaned against the broomstick. "My eyes haven't gone just yet. I can see that bit of stitching just fine."

"They say she travels with an owl. A familiar!" Jarvis spat, his eyes bulging as he stared at Trudy.

The old woman began her sweeping. "Let it go, Jarvis. Or better yet, be grateful for the extra help."

"Of course you would defend her! All you magic folk are the same. Lord Greymairn won't stand for this. You'll see. He intends to bring this town into the current age."

Jarvis spun on the heels of his boots and stalked away, melting between shadows near the end of the road, just as Maeve and Sio came sauntering up, utterly oblivious to all that had unfolded in their absence.

Trudy reached out and grabbed Evelyn's arm. "Are you all right? "

Evelyn nodded, swallowing past the lump in her throat. "Yes. Thank you. I appreciate your help, Trudy."

The elf woman clucked her tongue and resumed her sweeping. "Be careful, girl. Jarvis may be an old goat, but he has friends in high places."