The trouble was, even though there were mysteries afoot, there was work to be done. Tasmin was doing the washing, the sprites helping her by hanging the clothes. There was not a great deal of space for hanging things and they had opened the small, hidden room and the pantry. When William had started to look grumpy with the mess, she pointed out, “This is the warmest place in the house. The clothes will actually dry.” And he had nodded.
It did not help her as she scrubbed on the collar of one of William’s shirts. Now she was just trying to find a place to put the last of the wash. A couple of sprites helped, and his shirt and one of her night gowns were now hung close to the ceiling. I would much rather be out there asking questions, though, to be honest, I am not sure if Master Carys would appreciate my efforts. He seems like the stuffy and prim sort.
William determined that they had enough stock for today…their dear friend Cecilia was tending the counter, so it was time to get started a little on processing nibs.
“Why do we buy them already out of the pods?” she asked. She had finished boiling the whites, so he could work over the fire in peace.
“Because we do not have a decent place to ferment them, here. They need to dry in the sun, on special mats.”
She looked at one of the nibs. It was pretty, more like a cracked and shiny stone than something that would eventually be chocolate. William had pulled up a stool near the fire. He had a roasting pan over it, and he was roasting the nibs carefully, in batches.
Tasmin forced herself over to the other counter, where she started measuring out ingredients for mulling cider. “We’ll have people in today,” she said. “I think people will be curious.”
“They will, but that does not mean that they will buy anything.”
“Ailiani didn’t hear any gossip. I am surprised. You would think that someone would have heard about Cherise. Azin is not that big.”
“Maybe we will be fortunate, then, as I’ve not heard anything, either.”
They worked in silence for a time, and she let it comfort her, the smells of the kitchen. They were starting to work very well together, she knew when to go get a pan for him to pour the roasted nibs in, and she would take it to a rack to cool.
Maybe I should just let it go. I should be able to go upstairs for a little while, work on my studies. I should not go borrowing trouble. Just finish the mulling spices, and you can go bury yourself in research. The idea did not please her as much as it should have. She felt restless and a tad itchy.
“Perhaps I shall go visit the new family, it should be a good time to conduct the Mating Spell.”
“Do you think you will see the baby’s future bride so soon?” William asked, stirring carefully.
“Perhaps. You never know, and it must be done. Do you think…” she paused to reach for the sugar tin, and one of the wind sprites ruffled her hair as they flew past. She paused so long that William shot a look at her, and she fiddled with her words. “Do you think the spell ever chooses someone of the same, well, a man for a man, or such?”
“You would know better than I, my dear, but you yourself have said that the spell is not a guarantee of true love, but the best mate. It’s a practical spell, not a romantic one.”
She smiled slightly as she worked. “You do listen.”
“Just a few doors down from my parent’s house there were a couple of uncles who were not really related, and I always suspected that they were intimates. And you do see and hear things, on the sea. I do wonder, sometimes, how people are able to still be together, if the spell, and therefore the law, says that they are to belong to someone else. It seems rather unfair.”
A sprite landed on her shoulder…Tatu, she thought from the warm vibration, and because Tatu had developed a fondness for fussing with Tasmin’s hair of late…and she dipped a tiny sliver of apple in sugar, and held it out. “I suppose no one wants to look too closely, as the spell seems to work out for the most part.” She patted his back on the way to getting the cinnamon out. Tatu leapt off as Tasmin passed, doubtless jumping ship to stick with William.
“I suppose,” he said thoughtfully.
She finished her job and felt at loose ends, so she wandered upstairs, gathered her things, and went to visit the new mother. She felt another sprite settle on her shoulder. “Auruch? You don’t have to come with me.”
He snorted. Somehow the small warrior had a talent for making the puff of air against her cheek feel derisive, so she kept her peace. If he wanted to follow her and be bored, there was nothing she could do.
“Mrs. Almsley, we were just speaking of you, wondering when to send for you!” Joe and his Meggin were in front of their home, Meggin was holding the little boy in her arms, letting him enjoy the sunlight and the neighbors the new baby.
“Well, I am here now, and most willing to be of help.” She followed them in. The only table in the home was already bare and clean, and she spread the cloth map out carefully. Meggin’s mother, Lettie, wasn’t there.
“Why is only Berengeny on the map?” Meggin asked.
“Because the spell only covers the people of this kingdom.” She got out the bowl, the oils, and started mixing things.
“But what happens if Kit’s true love lives somewhere else? The Stairs of Alessyn? Or, God forbid, Pandroth?”
“Well, the spell is not about true love so much as best match, and I am sure that the mages limited the spell to keep things practical. There is no guarantee that your son would be able to make it to Alessyn, and since we are almost always at war with Pandroth…” She smiled, and started the spell. Part of it was showmanship, part of it real, pricking the finger, seeing the blood go into the mixture, dipping the pendulum and holding it over the map.
“Nothing?” Joe asked. Tasmin could tell that he wanted to ask if she had done it right, and she felt amused rather than insulted.
“Your newborn is a boy, and boys are usually older than their wives. All we know, right now, is that the best match for him has not yet been born.”
“But you will come back next year?”
“I will, unless the new Wise Woman takes over.” She smiled and cleaned up, dumping the contents of the bowl outside next to the doorway, where the flowers would grow in the spring, putting her vials in their right slots. Joe pressed upon her a nice round of cheese and some dried fruit as payment for the ritual, as well as the other night.
Lettie came in as Tasmin was about to leave. “So, any news?” she asked as she hung her cloak up on its peg.
“No, nothing yet.” Meggin tried to sound bright, but she seemed a little down. To Tasmin it made no sense; after all, this was the first year, and they had many years to wait. William had been seven, for heaven’s sake, when the spell chose her. But perhaps she, herself, would feel different someday?
“I thought that it might be so,” she said wryly, then said, “Thank you, Mistress Almsley, for coming.”
“Not at all. But if I may, would you mind if I ask you about the previous Wise Women?”
Her request made the woman pause for a moment, then she shook her head, gesturing to a chair near the fire. “Not at all. Please, sit a moment.” Meggin took her son to the other room, and Joe went out about his business. “I don’t know much about Cherise. She was liked well enough, a little, well…like a bird settled on a branch. You never knew when she might fly. Mistress Anne was much more solid. She had been our Wise Woman fifteen years.”
The names caught her. Even she rarely put the word Mistress in front of Cherise’s name. Few people did. But nearly always it ended up in front of Anne’s name. It probably said, more than anything, the differences between the women, and how the townspeople had felt about them. “Do you know anything about where they trained?”
“Well, Mistress Anne trained Cherise. Cherise was a twin, born at some little village about four days ride to the West, I think. They both came to Anne to train, Cherise’s sister was a much better student, and went back to her village, while Cherise stayed on. I think she loved Anne like a mother, and I believe she intended to stay on to take care of things as she got older. Poor Cherise, she felt so out of her substance once she became the Wise Woman!”
“I beg your pardon, but…” Tasmin started, because she knew the question might be impolitic, considering there were still some who resented the fact that during the great war, magic had been taken away from the South, and so those with any power at all were very few, while in the North it was much more common. “Did any of them have much of a spark?”
“Anne did, but then she was from the North, like you, though she often lied about it. But neither of the sisters had much. But you know, being a Wise Woman is more about understanding herb and stone lore and common sense than any real magical talent.”
Tasmin laughed. “True. Do you remember the other sister’s name?”
“Agnes, I think. She was very different from her sister. She was very cold, very certain. We were glad when Cherise decided to stay, thought it would be better for her and the town.”
They talked a little more, and after a time Tasmin excused herself, and went back on her way.
Her feet took her in a different direction, towards the edges of the town and well away from the sea.
Mistress Anne’s house was set aside from the others, her walled garden forming a natural buffer between her and her neighbors. Tasmin straightened her shoulders and walked slowly down the path, concentrating on looking like she had every right to be there. I probably do, since I am the acting Wise Woman. She marched up to the gate and tried it. It opened, but that was not surprising. Wise Women did not often lock their gates. The front door would be another matter, but she had a plan. The wood steps leading up to the porch creaked, the wood feeling soft. Herbs hung where they had been left to dry in the eaves of the front porch. The careless waste—leaving the herbs out all winter—made her wince, as they would be useless now, exposed to the elements for so many months, but she brought down a bunch anyway, crushed some leaves and smelled them. Yes, the strength was certainly less. She abandoned the bundle, they were common herbs and she had plenty, properly stored. She sighed and tried the door. It stayed shut. No surprises there.
“Auruch? May I please ask for your assistance?” He did not squeak his acquiescence, he was the most silent of all her sprites, but to anyone who did see, they would merely see Tasmin’s hand turn, palm up, and the door slowly opened.
“Thank you, my dear. Again, you have made my life immeasurably better.” She crossed over the threshold.
It was not a happy sight. Dust settled everywhere, and the place smelled of abandonment. She hugged herself as a cloak of bitter cold and damp wrapped itself around her, trying to work under her skin like a thing alive.
“This is not good,” she said softly. She did not dare disturb things much, but maybe she could go to Master Carys. “The books will not do well in this, we must take them away and warm them up, dry them out before they get ruined, but…” She looked around. The next Wise Woman would have a truly wretched job on her hands. Even though it had only been a few months, some of the labels had fallen off the jars. She bent to gather a few, setting Auruch from her shoulder.
“Something is not right. Look how decayed things already look. The floor feels ever so slightly spongy here, under my feet.” She moved away, pulling at drawers. Some of them had already swollen shut. Sea towns were damp, but this was something else entirely.
On the shelves of books a lovely silver mortar and pestle stood, engraved with Anne’s name and the date of her graduation. “This is the very university I went to. Do you remember the North, Auruch?” A flutter of papers was her only response. She placed the tarnished trophy back on the shelf. “I don’t know what this place could tell us. All I know is that I am quite sad, as if I might weep, the atmosphere here is so oppressive.” Auruch sprung to her shoulder, tangling in her hair so tightly that it hurt. She reached up and stroked him, hoping to ease his grip on her strands. The papers fluttered again. I know that can’t be Auruch this time… The cottage trembled under her, and Tasmin backed into the wall. Movement in the bedroom mirror across from her caught her eye. Between her and the mirror, there was nothing but papers being tossed lightly in the wind that seemed contained in the small cottage. In the mirror she saw something, in profile, glittering wetly, like a figure made of silvery water. She stopped, as if mid-step and turned. Seeing the back of the shade, unable to see the face, what it was doing or saying or if the expression was angry or benign, was somehow worse than anything. Auruch was pulling painfully at her hair, and she followed him out, the figure in the mirror moving its head as if tracking her.
She didn’t stop until she reached the gatepost, where she leaned upon it for a moment, trying to catch her breath. “Is it safe?” she asked. Auruch had stopped pulling her hair out, so she assumed so. She rubbed the sore spot.
“That explains the rot. Certain ghosts drain the vitality of the places they hide in, like a leech. It is how they keep corporeal.” She backed away from the house, studying it, before shaking herself free of her feelings, heading towards the port. She wanted to see Master Carys.
Master Carys had the distinction of being the first non-naval officer to sit in the chair of port admiral, though, Tasmin assumed, it wasn’t really the chair of the port admiral any longer. Port Master, then? Rumors flew around because it was quite unusual. Perhaps he was a master spy in the king’s service, retired, some said, others said that he was a lawyer who had saved the king’s life or that he was simply a powerful man with powerful friends.
His office reflected none of these things. When Lavoisier’s office had reflected his past, his pride in his time as one of the most vicious and daring of all the officers on the sea, Carys had stripped down things to their simplest. The walls had been repainted an off white, the wood work stripped and re-varnished so that it shone dark against the pale paint. Not one scrap of paper was in evidence. The desk was clear, dark wood cabinets dominated one wall, even the book cases had been given doors. Everything was a mirror of their master, sealed up and inscrutable.
It was disconcerting. Even the fireplace seemed too frightened to give off ash.
Master Carys rose from his newly reupholstered chair. “I am gratified that you have chosen to come see me, Mrs. Almsley. Please sit.” He gestured to the matching chair. “Mister Saul, would you be so kind as to fetch some tea for myself and the lady?”
She settled into the chair, secretly worrying that some bit of stray dirt would jump off her clothes and onto the fabric. Auruch shifted on her shoulder and she mentally commanded him to remain silent.
“So, the office has much changed since last you saw it, I gather?”
“Yes, it has, though I will own that I was entirely too taken up with my own cares at the time to give it much thought. But it is neater, that is for certain.”
“Everything has its place, and to be useful, it must remain in its place.”
Tasmin looked at him, trying to determine if the words had a deeper meaning. Doubtless. He seemed the type.
“Well, I do not wish to take up much of your time. I simply wished to ask if anyone had considered looking after the Wise Woman’s house. She has many valuable books that belong to the town, the Wise Woman merely holds them in trust as long as she is here.”
“No one has been allowed in to clean the house as we have not located Anne. Do you have need of something from the house? I hear you have taken over the duties.”
“No, I have all the resources that I need, but you may not realize, being new to this area, but the sea makes things treacherously damp, and the weather has been quite bad, adding to it. My husband and I have had to take steps to keep mold and damp from our own house.”
“I am aware,” he looked almost amused. “I am new to Azin Shore, but not to sea-side living. I shall ask one of my men to look into it, perhaps light a fire to help ease the damp. Will that suit?”
“Perhaps. The books could also be moved, perhaps you have a spare place you could store them here? I would offer my own home but I do not have a great deal of space, where I live.”
“I will consider it,” he said measuredly. For a learned man his disregard for the fate of the books did not earn him credit with Tasmin.
“May I ask how the investigation is progressing?” Tasmin said. “I did not know Mistress Cherise well, but I had not thought anyone would wish her harm.”
“We are following every avenue of inquiry,” he replied. “What did you think of Mistress Cherise?”
“She was sweet, well meaning. Nervous. She was filling big shoes.”
“Did you ever meet her predecessor?”
“I am afraid not. I received a letter from her once, telling me of my then intended’s troubles, but that was all.”
He frowned. “Why would she write you?”
“Because it was the Wise Woman’s duty to tell me that I no longer had any obligation to marry Captain Almsley.”
“Ah, yes. I had forgotten his former position. How fortunate he was, that you did not give up.”
Tasmin nodded, but she wasn’t sure if she believed that he would forget anything. “I am grateful that all was resolved.”
The tea came and she offered to serve it. Tasmin found herself being extra careful. It would simply not do to slop tea on the varnished surface of the desk.
She sipped her tea and wondered, suddenly, how quickly she could take her leave. The conversation was already dying, her avenues exhausted.
“How do you like Azin Shore?” she attempted.
“As much as I like any town, I suppose.”
“Do you miss the last place you lived?”
The corner of his mouth quirked, as if her attempts amused him. “I do not stay anywhere long enough to form any deep attachment.”
Tasmin cleared her throat. “Ah, well, maybe you will love Azin Shore so much that it will be different. I hardly thought I would like it quite so much as I do.” And now I am babbling.
“Perhaps.”
She sipped her tea again, trying to politely drink quickly. “This tea is quite lovely. You know, my husband…”
He nodded and smiled a little. “Is doubtless wondering where you are,” he finished for her.
“Quite.” She smiled a little.
“Then, Mistress Almsley.” He stood. “Perhaps you should go and let him know where, exactly, you have been.”