McKINNON ESTATE—GLENDALOW
1238 CE

Father, you’re home!” Mierta exclaimed, throwing himself into his father’s arms.

“Blimey, Mierta! You forget I am not getting any younger,” Mortain answered, giving Mierta a squeeze. “It is good to be home, though.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. McKinnon,” Natasha said, appearing from the kitchen. “I thought I recognised your voice.”

Natasha was a young woman of average height; her curly dark brown hair was tied up under a white lace kerchief. Her small round face and short upturned nose belied her knowledge of rearing babes. Her dress was simple, a flowing white blouse over a flowered skirt, which made it easier for her to go about her duties without being encumbered in any way.

“Good afternoon, Natasha,” Mortain replied to Lochlann’s wet nurse. “Reckon everything is well?”

“Yes, except for a wee matter concerning little Lochlann,” Natasha said. Already preparing for Mortain’s next question, she continued. “No need to worry. I’m certain it’s because the wee thing has a bit of a cold. However, he’s not eating right for me, you see.”

Mortain nodded and carefully placed Mierta back onto the floor. “Thank you, Natasha. I will be upstairs momentarily to examine him.”

“Tell us, father, what news of Vandolay?” Mierta asked eagerly. “Was the prince pleased?”

“Yes, well, I’m afraid I bring sombre news,” Mortain frowned. “The Hand of the King will be busy arranging a coronation soon I suppose. King Francis is dead—poisoned by someone in his own court, I suspect. I couldn’t tell them though. If I had announced what really happened, it would have sent the entire kingdom into chaos.” Mortain quickly decided to change the subject. “Now, enough talk of that. Mierta, did you find the book you were searching for in the cellar? I recall I promised you a lesson in compounding chemicals.”

“Yes, it’s in my room, but I cannot read it,” Mierta responded. “There’s some kind of enchantment on it, preventing anyone from being able to read it. I haven’t been able to figure it out.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” Mierta answered, staring down at the ground, crinkling his forehead. He felt uncertain whether he should ask his father about the spell. But, if it was indeed his father’s writing in the book, then, “I don’t suppose Mum ever told you where I may be able to find the answer to this spell?”

“Hmm.” Mortain thought. “Yes, in fact, I believe the words you are seeking, my boy, are Arduescha ridícula.”

“Are do eshca ree dee coo la?” Mierta repeated.

So, he really does know spells. But how? I’ve never seen him with a wand or a magic book or anything of the sort.

“Yes, my boy,” Mortain said, interrupting Mierta’s thoughts. “Reckon I heard a warlock state it once or twice in Vandolay passing by.”

Mierta stared at his father, doubting his story. He decided against inquiring any further; he would wait till later. His inner instinct told him his father was lying anyway. Perhaps once he had successfully compounded materials his father would consider him worthy enough to know the truth.

“Now, I shall be downstairs shortly. Be a good lad and prepare the containers and ingredients you find written on the first page of the elixir book, but do not start without me. Have Armand help you if you get lost. Where has he gone off to this time?” Mortain wondered, shaking his head.

“I had him gather some herbs for you in case you wanted to make a remedy for Lochlann,” Natasha added.

“Bless him. Very well, then,” Mortain said, turning back to Mierta. “Do you have your wand with you?”

“Yes, Father,” Mierta answered, reaching into his breeches to retrieve his wand to show Mortain.

“Good,” Mortain replied, smiling. “Well, go on then. Off you go.”

“Cheers!” Mierta grinned at his father before taking off downstairs.

“And don’t start without me!” Mortain again called, laughing to himself at Mierta’s excitement.

“I don’t mean to intrude. But is it true, sir, about the king?” Natasha asked.

“About him being poisoned? Yes, absolutely no doubt about it. I recall he had been complaining of not feeling well before retiring for the night. I suspect the poison by that point was already inside his body creating havoc. There wouldn’t have been anything anyone could have done to prevent it, except catch the villain responsible.”

“How long do you think it will be before the coronation?”

“Coronation? Ah, well, I reckon the Hand of the King is arranging his daughter’s wedding and the coronation as we speak.” He turned his attention back to his wet nurse. “That’s enough discussion for now. Let us proceed up the stairs and check on Lochlann…”

“SCAMOS LIAS!” Mierta commanded before hustling down the staircase with the elixir book in one hand and his wand in the other.

Ever since his rather scary encounter with the Kibunika, he had been grateful to have the assistance of both Armand and his mother’s spell book to successfully reverse the damage done in the cellar and transform it to better conditions. They righted the workbenches that the Kibunika had upended and returned the books to the bookshelves. Armand grabbed a broom and swept up all the broken jars and dry chemicals on the floor. Mierta also took this opportunity to clear out some of the dust and debris that had collected over the years of disuse in the cellar.

Reaching the bottom, he sprinted to the middle workbench, slamming the elixir book down on it.

“Okay,” he said to the room. “Need some better light.” He gathered a set of candles and candlesticks along with a cauldron, nearly forgetting there was anyone else in the house.

“Yes, I know!” Mierta said, turning his attention to a rat squeaking and squealing from the staircase. “You don’t like how it’s all cleaned up, deal with it! Don’t have time for you to have a go at me right now. I have more important engagements.”

Shaking the light out of his wand, he pointed it at the first candle, “Síne!” A small fire shot from the wand, lighting the first candle. He repeated with the remaining candles.

Grinning, he moved on to the elixir book. He opened it to the first page, pointed his wand at it, he chanted, “Arduescha ridícula!”

He gazed in awe as the letters appeared to travel off the page and dance around in the air before returning back to their haven, allowing the words to become comprehendible. “Ha! Brilliant! Shame I hadn’t discovered this spell before.” He placed the tip of his finger on the page and read the instructions, but quickly became bored.

“There’s got to be something better than this in here. There must be something more involved here that I can impress father with,” he said, flipping through the book. He read another recipe, flipped the page again before moving on to one that intrigued him.

“Now, what is this? Acidum salis—never heard of it, sounds exciting. Reckon I can compound this before father even gets down here! Better get busy, I can’t wait to surprise him!”

“THERE, THERE, now, that’s better,” Mortain comforted Lochlann several minutes later as the young boy eagerly ate for him. “Reckon he was just missing his Dad.” He glanced over at Natasha and joked, “If only all of my patients were this simple.”

“Yes, sir,” she agreed.

He turned back to Lochlann. “I’m certain when you’re older you won’t take any interest in compounding chemicals, will you? Sure wish I knew what your future was going to be.”

Mortain startled from what sounded like an explosion coming from the cellar. He suddenly remembered he had offered to teach Mierta how to compound chemicals, but had gotten distracted by Lochlann’s feeding!

At first he was annoyed that Mierta had not waited for him, but then his blood ran cold when he heard Mierta’s agonising scream.

ARMAND WAS approaching the main house when he felt the ground shake underneath his boots. He abruptly stopped when he heard a muffled explosion.

That’s coming from the cellar! Armand thought.

Dropping the herbs, he had collected, Armand took off at a run towards the door. He entered the McKinnon estate just in time to see his master running down the stairs, towards the cellar door.