AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Not simply when you needed something?” The elderly head lifted to look at me, eyes sharp as ever. “Never mind. They visit when they want something. And not when they don’t.”
“You are a very useful person and so I am sure that is the case,” I said, trying to be as honest as possible. “But in the past, I have also visited because I enjoyed our conversations and your company. You are not only the finest apothecary in the kingdom, but your knowledge of the history of the kings and queens of Pendrath is unsurpassed.”
The apothecary’s eyes honed in on me like a falcon’s. “Flattery will get you everywhere, my dear.”
I grinned.
Caspar Starweaver, Master of Potions, and my uncle lifted the heavy cauldron he had been stirring and carefully set it aside on a nearby iron grate to cool, then came over to the table.
“So, you are here for a history lesson?”
“Not exactly.” Where did I begin? “I was wondering if I might be able to... make the medicine myself, in my room. At least, put the herbs together, I mean. Add boiling water and there you have it, right? I could make it in my room over my own fire.” I saw his eyes sharpen and hurried on. “Or perhaps I could even come down here to fetch the mix myself from now on.” His eyes narrowed still further. I kept going. “I was also wondering if there was a ward of some kind you knew of, that I could set on the door of my room. Some kind of... protection spell perhaps. Anything like that. Anything at all. An amulet or a ward or even a charm...”
Caspar held up a hand. “Stop. Please stop. You are rushing forward like a leaf carried downstream. Tell me what has happened.”
I bit my lip and his expression turned shrewd.
“Very well. If not exactly what has happened, then tell me enough that I may understand.”
I nodded. “I can do that.”
“Good. In the meantime, I will make us a nice kettle of tea.” He moved to a cupboard, took out a kettle, filled it with water from a jug and went back over to the hearth where he hung it on a hook over the fire.
Half the time my uncle set out to make tea for us, the kettle boiled over or we forgot about it altogether.
But perhaps this time there really would be tea. My uncle had the widest assortment of anyone I knew. An entire cabinet was devoted to small drawers and sachets filled with fragrant herbs and spices he had collected over a lifetime of travel and study.
The Master of Potions had not always lived in the castle, a hermit in the dark.
He turned back to me with an inquiring expression. I cleared my throat.
“Someone tampered with my medicine a few nights ago. I drank it before I noticed.”
I looked up at him. His lips had thinned. “I see. Who did this?”
“I...don’t know. No. I know. But I don’t wish to say. I can’t say.”
The lips thinned still more. There was silence in the gloomy room.
“I am dealing with things on my own.”
That was an overstatement. It suggested I had something resembling a plan. Which I did not. Unless wearing out my body pretending I was punching Florian instead of a frightened squire and barricading my bedroom door with furniture counted as a plan.
“I see.” His voice was deceptively soft. “And yet you come here asking about making the potion yourself. Asking about magical wards and amulets. I did not think you believed in such magics. Or that you held with them.”
I was surprised. “Do they exist? I have nothing against such magic if it can help me.”
“They exist. Of course, they exist. Whether anyone now alive knows how to wield such spells, to make such wards–now that is another matter. But certainly such things have been used in the past.” He looked thoughtful. “A ward, you say. Carved runes on the doorpost. A spoken spell. In the past, the high priestess would have created such wards. If not for ordinary citizens, certainly for the throne when requested. Why, some of the remaining wooden door frames and panels in the castle still bear traces of such runes. Leftovers of the elder race.”
“The fae, you mean?” I was fascinated. “The temple truly knew how to do such things?”
“They still might. But whether such wards would hold any real power.” He shrugged. “That would depend on whether Merlin herself possesses any traces of it.”
We exchanged a knowing glance. My uncle and I were not devotees like Galahad and we had a healthy skepticism for what the temple was actually capable of.
I thought of something. “I visited the temple recently. Merlin wished for me to watch her perform a libation rite. Afterwards she took me into a passage I had never seen before. It was full of old mosaics.”
My uncle perked up. “How extraordinary. What did they look like?”
