Toadmila took one more sip of her magic tea. Something about Jane's
story bothered her. She could feel something cold and dark rattling
in a corner of her mind,something between a presentiment and a
memory, but the tea drowned it out.
“So, if I help you,” Toadmila said slowly, “what do I get in
return?”
Her mind was racing over the things she could do for the girl, and
the things she'd need for that, tallying expenses and rounding up the
price to make it worth her time.
“You get my immortal soul,” Jane said, making obvious efforts to
look brave.
Toadmila rolled her eyes and prepared to take one more sip of tea if
the girl was to add “that's what witches do”. Fortunately, Jane
just stood there, trembling, staring at her with large, round eyes.
“That's not what witches do,” Toadmila said, setting aside her
cup of tea. “That's what you pay for a deal with the devil. Witches
are not devils.”
Jane did not seem convinced. She opened her mouth to say something,
but she thought better of it.
“Souls, from what I know, aren't good to eat,” Toadmila said,
matter-of-factly. “They are not acceptable coin at any shop, and
cannot be exchanged for food, clothes, or basic necessities. I have
no use for your soul.”
Jane blinked, but did not look relieved.
“I'll take money,” Toadmila said quickly, before the girl could
offer her first-born as payment.
“Oh.”
Jane's eye were brimming with tears.
“I don't have any money,” the girl said, wringing her hands.
“What about bread?” Toadmila asked, trying to tell herself that
she didn't need a familiar, or a crystal ball, or the latest volume
of Potions Monthly or of Spells Gazette. “I could work for bread.”
Jane's face turned pale.
“We don't have any bread either,” she said. “Bread is
expensive.”
“But you grow wheat,” Toadmila said.
“Yes, but it's the miller who turns the wheat into flour, and it's
the baker who turns the flour into bread. We only eat soup.”
“And game,” Toadmila thought. She'd noticed the villagers
poaching in the forest. But, of course, no villager would admit to
that, not when the forest and any animals in it belonged to the king,
and poaching was punishable by death.
“I'll need some things to make the... spell,” Toadmila said. “And
I'll need payment. So perhaps the miller could use some help with
housework or yard work, and pay in flour, and perhaps the baker could
use the flour to make bread. You can always try.”
Jane nodded.
“Do you have any lye?” Toadmila asked.
“Of course!” Jane answered, her face brightening in an instant.
“We use that for cleaning.”
“And oil?”
“I could find some,” the girl said, a little less cheerful.”
“I don't need much. Just half a cup of it.”
“I think I can get that much,” Jane said.
“And do you know where I could find some roses?” Toadmila asked.
“There's a rosebush in the cemetery, but it's all dead now. There
won't be any flowers till spring.”
“Summer,” Toadmila corrected her. “They bloom in summer, unless
the weather is unnaturally warm. I don't suppose there are any dead
petals lying around in the cemetery?”
“I don't think so,” Jane said. “Aunty Rachel picks them all up.
She makes jam out of them. It's really good.”
“Well, I'll need a branch of that bush, dead as it is,” Toadmila
said. “And the lye and the oil that I've told you about.”
Jane kept looking at her expectantly, so she tried to think of some
other ingredient, something that could sound magical.
“And three drops of water from the well, collected at dawn,” she
added, trying to make this last bit sound important. “Bring me all
that, and bread, and I'll make a spell that will make this John of
yours fall in love with you.”
No comments:
Post a Comment
Toadmila and I will be happy if you take the time to leave a message. Our moderators (actual toads, not machines) will have a look at your message before it is posted on the blog. It may take up to a few days for your post to appear on this page, so please be patient (and have some tea).