Chapter 30
T he days that followed were busier than Evelyn expected. The renewed land spread as far as it could, but there were places where the cure could not reach. The flower beds and window boxes, planters and gardens within the city's walls, and anywhere else that was otherwise cut off from the main pastures and fields remained riddled with the unseen thorns and nettles. But as word of the blight lifting spread to those inside the city's wall, requests for good soil poured in.
It took effort, but Evelyn and the others worked with some of the farmers to haul wagons of good soil into town, to distribute to anyone who wanted it. Scores of townsfolk turned up to claim some of the soil, and left buzzing with excitement as they discussed plans to revitalize their back gardens .
Evelyn was content to let the farmers take over the majority of the effort of distribution, but there was one delivery she wanted to make personally.
Three days after the curse was lifted, she stood outside the door to The Silver Fin, her arms wrapped around a sack of dirt, as the battered inn's sign flapped overhead, its rusty chain caught in a balmy sea breeze.
Coren had wanted to go with her, but she'd declined. It was enough that he knew where she was going, and why.
She braced herself with a deep breath, then tugged open the front door and strode inside the inn, which was dimly lit despite it being midday, as only pale shafts of sunlight made their way past the dust and grime built up in the windows.
A pair of patrons sat at a table by the fire, playing a card game, with mugs of tea at their elbows. The surly proprietor stood behind the bar, polishing the assortment of metal tankards lined up on the shelf. He turned at the sound of her arrival, and while his expression was a far cry from pleasant or inviting, it still had considerable room to sour when he saw just who darkened his doorstep.
"What are you doing here?" the orc growled.
Behind him, Fiona stood at the stove with her mother. She turned at her stepfather's harsh voice and beamed with delight. "Evelyn!"
Her mother hissed something and jabbed a finger at the pots and pans.
Evelyn lifted her chin and strode up to the counter. The orc recoiled slightly, as though afraid to breathe the same air as her. With a defiant thunk, she set the bag of dirt onto the counter. "I came to see you," she said.
"What's this mess?!"
"This is blessed soil. The blight has been lifted from this land, by the grace of Caele, and the order of King Ayren."
The orc blinked. "The king?"
Only then did he take note of her tall, pointed hat and the royal sigil embroidered above the wide brim. "You—you can't be—" He stopped himself, then swallowed hard, his neck thickening as the full weight of the implication hit him.
"Don't worry. I didn't come here for vengeance," Evelyn said, though it did sting a little. She quickly reminded herself that it wasn't for the orc's sake, but for that of Fiona. The young faun wouldn't be likely to have much of a future if her stepfather was dragged off to Benenfar and left to rot in a dungeon for offending one of the four royal witches.
"You—you didn't?"
Evelyn held his gaze. "I came to ask for peace and decency. From you and anyone else who has doubts about my motives. A witch very well may have been behind this curse, but one was also behind its undoing."
The orc hung his head. "I am sorry, my lady. Long live the king. "
Fiona crept closer, though the soft thunk of her hooves on the floor gave her away.
Evelyn's lips pursed together as she forced a nod. She'd accomplished her task, but until she had the royal decree stating her freedom from the king's service, she preferred not to think about King Ayren or Crownvale or Lady Kilgour. She'd only put on the ridiculous hat to make a point.
The small faun poked her head above the counter, inspecting the burlap bag.
"I believe you mentioned having a vegetable garden," Evelyn added, smiling at the girl.
Fiona beamed at her. "We grow tomatoes and carrots and sweet peas and lettuce!"
"It sounds wonderful," Evelyn replied. "This should help bring it back to its former glory. All you need to do is use it like a compost. The blessed soil will soak through and banish the blight."
Fiona's large green eyes went ever wider. "Wow!" She turned and looked up at her mother, who had edged closer to get a look for herself. "It's magic, Mama!"
The older faun looked a bit wary, but she reached out and opened the bag, peering inside.
"You can try it now, if you'd like," Evelyn prompted.
Fiona grinned and plunged a hand into the bag, grabbing a fistful of the soil. Her mother balked and hurried to follow as the little faun raced through the inn, making her way to the back entrance, her hooved feet clattering merrily along the floorboards.
"I'll speak with Jarvis," the orc said, drawing Evelyn's attention back to him. "In truth, I did not care for the threat he made against your home."
A flicker of anger ignited in Evelyn's belly, and she wanted to argue and point out that he'd seemingly been fine with tricking her and holding her against her will in order for his companion to levy such threats, but it would not serve her greater purpose. That of peace.
"Thank you," she said, though it tasted bitter. "But I will deal with him myself."
The orc looked up at her, curiosity brimming in his flat eyes, but he kept further questions to himself and resumed his polishing.
In truth, Evelyn had included the details of what the healer had done in her letter to Lady Kilgour, knowing full well Catriona would not let such a man remain in a place of esteem. He would be dealt with soon enough.
"For my part, there was more to it than just the blight," the orc continued as he glanced up, his dark eyes suddenly glossy enough to look like pools of ink in a bottle. "I couldn't be sure that was the doing of a witch, despite what people said. But there was a witch before, back when I was a youngling. She traveled with a circus troupe and put on magic shows, and some said she could grant wishes. At the time, I was hopelessly in love with a goblinkin girl from my school, and convinced she was the one I was meant to be with, though I don't think she so much as knew I existed."
Evelyn's heart sank, having a feeling she knew where the tale was headed.
"The witch asked a hefty price, but she assured me she could brew me a love potion strong enough to win her heart. My father called me a fool, of course, but I was young and hardheaded—" He paused and shifted his considerable weight, leaning more heavily on the counter, the tankards forgotten. "I scraped together everything I had and took it to the witch. She told me to come back the next day, that she would have the potion ready by then. Something about needing to brew it in the moonlight." He scoffed, his wide nostrils flaring. "I suppose you can gather the rest."
Evelyn offered a sympathetic nod. "She was gone."
He nodded and pushed off the counter, standing to his full height once more. "The whole troupe disappeared by sunrise, and never came back again. I was far from the only one who lost their savings. But I should not have assumed you were the same. For that, I am truly sorry."
Squealing erupted and Fiona came clattering back to the counter, hoisting an enormous tomato over her head. "Look at this!"
Evelyn laughed as the faun scampered around, showing off the tomato to the two men playing cards, and by the way their heads bobbled and swayed, Evelyn surmised there was something a fair bit stronger than tea in their mugs.
"It seems it all worked out in the end," Evelyn told the orc, watching the light dance in his eyes as Fiona heaved the large tomato onto the counter in front of him.
The orc shifted his dark eyes toward her and inclined his head. "Aye, I suppose you're right."
The young faun looked between her stepfather and Evelyn, measuring their expressions as they shared a smile. "Does this mean I can be friends with Evelyn, Da?"
The orc chuckled, the rumble vibrating his large belly. "I suppose that's all right then."
With another squeal of delight, Fiona raced around the counter and threw her arms around Evelyn's legs in a tight embrace.
Before Evelyn left, Fiona's mother brought her a loaf of molasses bread wrapped in a thin cloth. She offered a kindly smile and thrust it toward her. "I seem to remember you enjoyed the bread."
Evelyn grinned and took the loaf, the thick crust perfectly brown and still warm from the oven. "I never say no to bread."
The orc rumbled a laugh and nodded. "Perhaps we have more in common than I thought, my lady."
"Please, call me Evelyn."
They shared a look and he lowered his head. "Evelyn. And you may call me Cathal."
Evelyn inclined her chin, then slipped back outside.
"Oh, good, you're back," Archie said when Evelyn returned to the plaza where Coren and some of the farmers worked to divvy up what remained of the day's soil among the stragglers who'd come to get a bucket or pail's worth for themselves.
"This one was about ready to lay siege to the place," the owl continued, giving Coren a narrowed glance. "I told him he wasn't likely to get far, considering his best weapons are a rusty shovel and a hound with gray fur."
Nareen looked up at the owl, and for a moment, Evelyn wondered if the dog hadn't understood the insult. Then she got distracted by a passing child who was removing bits of cheese from their sandwich and tossing them into the street like a trail of breadcrumbs when their mother wasn't looking.
"Hey, I could do a fair bit of damage with a shovel," Coren protested.
Evelyn smiled and brushed her hands together. "Well, there's no need. Amends have been made."
Coren smiled as he gestured at her hat. "I'm assuming the sigil did its job."
"It may have helped move things along," she replied with a quirked smile. "Although I'm already eager to be rid of it. Whoever invented hat pins needs a good roughing up, if you ask me. These things have been digging into my very skull since I put the blasted thing on!"
Archie sighed and took flight, off to heckle some of the farmers.
"Here," she said, thrusting the bread loaf into Coren's hands while she began the tedious process of removing the pins. A process that turned out to be only slightly less painful than letting the pins continue to poke and prod, as her curly tresses weren't keen to let them leave without a fight.
"Evelyn…" Coren's expression turned grave and he stepped closer, reaching for her hat with his free hand. "Here?—"
She started to protest, but quickly gave up and took the bread back, letting Coren sort through the tangled hat pins. Somewhere along the way she started laughing, imagining what they must look like to anyone walking by, and when Coren asked what was so funny, he gave her a strained look that only made her laugh harder.
"Honestly, Evelyn, I don't know what to do with you," he said, grinning as he shook his head and freed the last pin.
"Well, then you're in good company, as I don't fully know what to do with myself, either," she replied with a final giggle.
Coren handed her the hat and she stuffed it into her satchel, silently willing the magic to drag it to the depths. She was no longer concerned with anyone spotting the mysterious properties of the leather bag. Not only was she something of a hero to the farmers, but her reputation as one of the king's witches had also begun to spread, and Evelyn didn't imagine anyone would be foolish enough to try and steal from her, knowing they'd have to answer directly to the crown.
"For all I know, Lady Kilgour is at Crownvale making some sort of plan for me," Evelyn added, her smile vanishing.
"It's only been a few days since you wrote to her," Coren said, his expression turning serious. "It takes longer than that for the post to even reach Benenfar. Especially these days. Not to mention, she's likely to have other things on her mind. The crier says Lord Sorel of Torridane has thrown in his lot with Ivor, and will be marching with him to Benenfar."
Evelyn's stomach swirled with dread. Even if Lady Kilgour kept her word, and set Evelyn free, there were still so many people she cared for remaining at Crownvale.
"They say Torridane has already started to fly the banner of Ardorin," Coren added, his voice pitched low.
Evelyn nodded. "They call him the god of the forge, but I'll always think of him as the god of fire and war."
Coren started to say something, then changed his mind and took her hand. Squeezing it, he offered a small nod of reassurance. "You'll hear something soon."
"I'm sure you're right." She did her best to smile, but it stopped short of reaching her eyes. "And in the meantime, I have more than enough work to do. Speaking of which, what would you say if I asked to come rummage around in your garden this afternoon?"
Coren quirked his brows. "I hope that's some kind of euphemism."
Evelyn snorted a laugh. "It was meant literally, but you're more than welcome to try and sway me from my task."
"Challenge accepted."
Evelyn leaned into Coren and his arm went around her, tucking her in close. The future was still hazy, but for the time being, the present felt like a pretty good place to be.