Chapter 9

R oisin turned out to be a fair bit more reasonable than Evelyn expected, after hearing Maeve's description of the elf. The agreement was struck by late afternoon. Evelyn paid up front for a three-month term and was handed a key that worked on both the front and back doors to the place.

There was still a bit of daylight left after the arrangement was made, so Evelyn headed back up the hill to continue her shopping. Now that she had a place to live and work, she needed at least some basic furnishings, and could also arrange for larger orders to be delivered, as she had an address to call her own.

The signs of the festival had been cleared from the large plaza, the townspeople going about their regular business, but as she circled the fountain with the two-headed fish statue, the sound of hooves clattered in her wake. She turned, preparing to sidestep out of the way of a spooked mule or runaway goat, only to find the small faun child running after her, waving her hands and smiling.

"Evelyn!"

Evelyn glanced around, her pulse thrumming in her ears. "Oh, hello, Fiona."

"My parents aren't with me," the little faun offered, clearly reading the concern in Evelyn's eyes. Her bright smile faded and she looked down at her hands, one of them clasped around the handle of a basket holding a selection of small potatoes and carrots, the green stems still attached. "I'm sorry my stepfather threw you out of the inn."

Evelyn's heart twisted. "It's not your fault, Fiona. I hope I didn't get you into trouble."

The faun looked up earnestly and shook her head, her moss-green hair swaying around her tiny antlers. "So… you're really a—a witch?"

"I am."

"And you helped fix Odette?"

"You know her?"

Fiona nodded. "I go to school in the hilltop district. Some of the other children were talking about it."

"I see."

"Not everyone thinks the same way as my stepfather," the faun assured her.

"It's all right," Evelyn replied, not wanting the young girl to feel the need to defend her family .

"Are you lost?" Fiona asked. "I can help show you around. I know where everything is in Shieglas. I've lived here my whole life!"

She said this as though it was truly novel, and Evelyn couldn't help but smile. "Fiona, I do appreciate your help, but I don't want to get you in trouble with your parents."

The faun's smile took on a mischievous glint. "Oh, they're busy. They won't notice I'm missing, until it comes time to peel these." She hoisted her basket a little higher. Her lips twisted to one side. "I wish I could have found some tomatoes to buy, but they didn't have any. We used to grow them in the back garden, but not anymore."

"Why not?"

Fiona hitched one small shoulder. "Mom says the seeds don't take."

"Hmm." Evelyn considered the potatoes and carrots, then noticed a blue and white feather poking out from underneath the vegetables, and three pale pink seashells tucked on the other side.

A shard of a memory flickered to life in the back of Evelyn's mind, taking her back to a time when she would wander into the cottage she shared with her mother, bearing her own basket of treasures she'd collected on her way to and from the coven's garden.

"So, where are you going now?" the faun asked, pulling Evelyn from her reverie.

Evelyn frowned. She didn't want to get the faun in trouble, but there was one merchant she'd not yet been able to locate. One who would prove most essential in her work.

"I'm in search of a glassmith." Evelyn looked over at the young faun. "Or someone who sells empty bottles and jars."

Fiona's eyes glowed. "I know where to go!"

"You do?"

"This way!" The faun bounded away on hopelessly light feet, leaving Evelyn to scramble and chase after her.

Fiona led her down the hillside to a row of shops near the water's edge, but on the other side of the docks from Sailcloth Row. These shops were near enough to the water that the reflection of the sparkling waves gleamed in the panels of glass in their paned windows. Wooden signs hung above each shop's door, indicating their purpose. The exteriors of the shops were weather-beaten, but looked more freshly painted than the one she'd just agreed to lease.

Fiona counted them off, and Evelyn wondered if the young faun couldn't read the signs for herself. "This one!" she declared, pointing at the shop in the middle, wedged between a small bakery and a fish market—which made for a rather interesting combination of smells, Evelyn thought, as a slight crease formed in the bridge of her nose.

A wall of heat slammed into them as they stepped inside the large workspace. At the back of the shop, two doors were open, letting in the late afternoon sun, but doing little to dissipate the oppressive heat coming off the enormous brick furnace along the far wall. Fiona's eyes grew round and glowed with the molten shimmers emanating from inside the square opening.

Evelyn's gaze swept over a scarred worktable laden with hollow steel pipes, wood blocks, shears, paddles, and other tools. At the front of the shop, display shelves presented bottles and vases in an array of colors. Interspersed between simple jam jars, drinking vessels, and bowls glinted more ornate works: delicate perfume bottles with slender necks and stoppered with silver filigree; drinking glasses so fine they seemed wrought of frozen lace; and vases filled with tiny marbles in every color imaginable. There were lanterns, too, meant to amplify the light cast from fairy moss when it was dampened with water.

The glassblower herself stood facing the roaring furnace, strong arms spinning a hollow metal blowpipe encasing a glowing blob of melted glass. Sparks flew as she rolled the molten material back and forth on a large metal plate, her focus intent. A leather apron and thick gloves protected her hands and arms as she worked, and another contraption, like a gilded masquerade mask, concealed most of her face.

Even as the woman bent forward, Evelyn could see she was quite tall, with dark brown skin glistening with sweat. Her arms were lithe and corded with muscles that moved and rolled as her strong arms worked to shape the soft glass. Her black hair was thick and wiry, kept out of her face by a cord of fabric.

Fiona gasped as the woman blew into the pipe, gently inflating the glowing bubble of molten glass. With smooth but powerful motions, she shaped it into a long cylinder before using various tools to form the rim and flatten the bottom. After scrutinizing her work, she slid her creation into a waiting annealing oven to slowly cool. Only then did she shift her dark eyes toward the entry of her shop and take note of her visitors.

"That was amazing!" Fiona exclaimed, all but bouncing in place.

Evelyn smiled and added a nod of agreement. "I hope you don't mind us watching. We didn't want to interrupt."

The woman lifted the mask from her face and set it gently on the worktable beside the other assorted tools. "I don't mind. What can I do for you?"

"I'm Fiona, she's Evelyn," the faun interjected. "She needs bottles and jars. She's a witch!"

Evelyn's eyes squeezed closed for a moment. So much for downplaying her identity.

The glassmith folded her arms across her leather apron. Now that the woman was standing at her full height, Evelyn realized she was nearly as tall as the goblinkin who'd visited Maeve that morning, though not half as broad. The woman arched a black eyebrow in Evelyn's direction. "A witch, huh? "

"Uh, yes. I mainly deal in healing potions, so I'll need bottles for draughts and little jars for salves."

Evelyn figured it would be easier if she told everyone the same story, and in fairness, it was nearly the truth anyway. No one needed to know that most of the bottles would be used to collect soil.

"Will you be working with Jarvis, then?"

Evelyn's fingers twisted at the fabric inside the pockets of her cloak. "I've not met him just yet, but I would like to. Has he returned from his trip to the… mountain pass, was it?" The question was more directed at Fiona.

The faun shrugged, then dug inside her small satchel and pulled free a hard candy, wrapped in a square of waxed parchment.

"Jarvis travels more frequently these days," the glassmith interjected. "I'm sure he'll be relieved to have a second pair of hands about town to catch the slack. So, bottles, then? What sizes?"

At the woman's back, embers flared and faded inside the furnace, as though they, too, were eager to get on with it.

Evelyn was prepared for this, and reached into her own satchel. She'd already brought several styles to the top of the enchanted bag, for easy access. She pulled them out one at a time, showing them to the glassmith. "They don't need to be fancy," she said. "However, I would like a mix of clear and colored, the darker the better, as some potions can be sensitive to light. "

"No problem." The woman nodded, considering the selection Evelyn had lined up at one end of the large table between them. Then, raising her eyes back to Evelyn, she extended her arm. "I'm Sio, by the way."

"Evelyn."

The pair embraced forearms. Heat radiated from Sio's skin, as though she were a stone, absorbing the flames while she worked, and Evelyn wondered if she was ever tempted to go and throw herself in the sea to break free of the almost fever-like haze of the room.

Sio gestured toward the bottles with her chiseled chin. "These are easy enough, and I use a mold, to ensure each one is uniform in size. I imagine that helps when it comes to your line of work."

Evelyn smiled. "Most definitely."

"How many do you need? And how soon would you need them?" Sio asked, on the move again, this time to retrieve a scrap of parchment and a nubby bit of charcoal from a small table across the room from her oven.

"Oh, right." Evelyn tugged open the flap of her satchel once more, this time pulling out her journal. She opened it to the most recent page, her place marked with a green ribbon, and rattled off the numbers she'd already calculated. Most of the potions she needed to brew were already promised to the farmers, though she planned to make enough to keep a small supply on hand.

The two finished the exchange while Fiona happily sucked on her hard candy and watched out the window as people passed by. When they finished, Sio walked them to the door and threw it open, letting in a much-needed gust of cold sea air.

"It was nice to meet you, Evelyn," Sio said, smiling politely as Fiona and Evelyn stepped past her, out onto the road once more. "Come by next Tidesmorn, and I'll have them ready."

Evelyn inclined her head. "Thank you, Sio."

Fiona smiled a red-stained grin. "Bye!"

" This is your big find?"

Evelyn scowled at her feathered familiar as he flew around the vacant shop in small circles.

"I don't even know where to land!" he hooted. "There isn't a spare inch that isn't covered with soot and dirt and—ack!"

He dove down, feathers and wings flapping wildly. "Cobwebs!" he shrieked.

Evelyn smashed one palm to her face. "Okay, so it needs a bit of tidying?—"

"A bit !"

"With magic, it won't take any time at all." To prove her point, Evelyn dug into her satchel and pulled out a brush with firm bristles. Scowling at Archie, she crossed to the stone hearth and infused a bit of magic into the polished cherry wood, and set it down on the stones. The brush sprang to life and began scrubbing itself over the stones, sweeping away a layer of loose debris. She'd need a bucket of water and some cleansing solution to remove the years' worth of soot, but that, too, was easily achievable.

Reluctantly, Archie landed on the rough-hewn mantel and pecked at himself to try to rid his wings of the cobwebs.

"Would you like a brush for yourself?" Evelyn asked, unable to hold back a twitching of her lips as she tried not to laugh at his predicament and angry mutterings.

"This—is—absurd!"

"It will turn out all right in the end," Evelyn assured him, slowly spinning to consider the full space. "And in the meantime, this is home, for at least the next three months."

The lease would get her close to the time of harvest. To Lady Kilgour's deadline. After that?—

Well, she tried not to think about it.

The path before her was set, and that was all that mattered for the time being.

"And where are you going to sleep, hmm?" Archie protested. "I don't see a scrap of furniture."

"I'll work on that soon," Evelyn said, her tone patient as she pulled back her long chestnut waves and twisted them into a knot atop her head. She left Archie to his complaining and went to fetch two buckets of water from the nearest well, which was just far enough away that her arms started to burn and protest by the time she returned.

Without the proper tools, she was forced to leave the boards on the front windows, but she thought that might work in her favor, keeping out prying eyes as word made it up and down the Row that a witch had moved in. She set about her cleaning tasks, using a combination of magic and good, old-fashioned hard work. With wild swipes of her broom, she knocked down the lingering cobwebs and even dislodged a long-abandoned bird's nest from the rafters above the loft. She set the nest to one side, planning to pick out any stray bits of eggshell later, as often the eggs of wild birds proved more potent than those of domesticated chickens and geese.

Archie stayed out of her way, muttering and complaining, until he eventually begged for escape, his disgruntled hoots sailing back to her over the flapping of wings as he dove through the open back door.

He didn't stay away for long, though, and returned just after twilight fell, finding Evelyn working to set up a makeshift bed chamber in the loft. She'd opened the small window and was working to flatten out her bedroll, though the ends kept scrunching back together.

"Where did all this come from?" Archie asked, waving one foot toward a stack of pillows and blankets.

"I bought them yesterday," Evelyn said, grimacing as the bedroll curled in on itself again .

"You bought decorative pillows but not a bed?" Archie clacked his beak. "Honestly, Evelyn."

With a grunt, she flopped across the bedroll, spreading her arms and legs out to keep all four corners pinned.

Archie gave a startled hoot. "This is most undignified. I hope you know."

She laughed, too tired to care. She'd worked all day to clean the shop, a task that had required far too many treks to the well and back again. Her muscles were sore and aching, and all she wanted was to finish making the bedroom nice enough so she could fall asleep.

"It's rather small."

"It's quaint," Evelyn retorted.

"I still don't see why we couldn't simply extend our stay at the inn."

"You didn't like the inn, either, remember? The sheets had holes in them."

Archie puffed out his chest. "Well, it was better than this!"

Evelyn sighed and pushed up from the bedroll. By the blessing of Caele, the corners stayed down and she breathed a sigh of relief as she crossed to the window. Somewhere, a bard was playing a lute, and the quivering melody floated on the breeze whistling down Sailcloth Row.

She drew in a deep breath of the salty air, then blinked curiously at the scent of a mouth-watering meal someone was cooking nearby .

"It's rabbit stew," Archie explained, twisting his head to look out into the falling darkness. "The shop next door seems to operate as some kind of community kitchen. People came out of the woodwork as soon as the proprietor began chopping the vegetables. Someone offered up the meat, while another brought a bag of beans, and yet another brought the largest onion I've ever seen! Of course, that made everyone shed a tear, and many left until it was diced and into the pot!" Archie hooted a laugh.

Evelyn eyed her companion. "Glad to see you're getting to know the neighbors."

Archie preened. "What else was I supposed to do all day?"

Evelyn leaned a bit farther out her window, peering into the shared courtyard and the squares of warm light from Maeve's shop. She had said she was something of a master at making stew. "It smells wonderful!"

Archie lifted from the sill, and a collection of talons hooked into the fabric at the back of her apron strings.

"Archie!" Evelyn exclaimed, whirling around until the owl released her. "You'll tear my dress!"

"Well, what's better? A torn dress or a broken neck?"

"I wasn't going to fall," she replied, sighing as she tightened the knotted strings around her waist. A mess of cobwebs and dust clung to her dress, despite the apron.

"Says you," Archie retorted, his expression scrunching with displeasure. "Now, come on," he added, vaulting off his perch. "Let's go and introduce ourselves. "

"I already met the cobbler."

"Surely they must have some meat set aside, the bits not fit for the stew." His feathers quivered with excitement.

"We weren't invited to dinner, Archie."

"What's the worst they could do? Turn us away?" His eyes narrowed when she still wasn't moving from the window. "I saw a loaf of bread," he cooed. "Looked fresh to me!"

Evelyn hesitated. A bowl of stew and perhaps a hunk of bread would hit the spot…

"All right," she huffed, "but I've got to go out back and shake out this dress first. I'm not going over there looking like one of your revolting pellets."

Archie laughed, the sound scratchy and rough. "I wasn't going to say anything…"

Evelyn shook her head, smiling to herself. "Of course not."