“You pay attention to yer own hands there, lad. I ken well enough what I’m doing here.”
Chase dropped the tool he used and moved to stand over the old woman and her bubbling pot.
“We need to get something straight between us right now. I can toss back a couple of pints or a shot of whisky with the best of them.” With his Faerie constitution, he could polish off a whole damn barrel and it would have no effect on him. “But I don’t put that stuff in my body. No chemicals. No dwale, absolutely no opium or hemlock or any of that other shit. And, just so we’re on the same page, I’m going to do everything in my power to see that Christiana stops using it, too. It can’t be good for her, visions or no visions.”
Orabilis stared up at him, one eye squinted against the smoke from the fireplace.
“Oh, do sit yer righteous self down and stop yer fashing, aye? There’s no a sprig of any of those things in this mixture. None of it. If you must ken the truth of it, those bags I’ve set aside for Christiana to takewith her are filled with naught but good cooking herbs. You should ken that yer own self since yer the one what mixed them for me.” She stirred the pot before fixing him again with her stern frown, shaking her porridge-covered spoon for emphasis and sending little globs of porridge flying in all directions. “But yer no to be telling my Christy about this. No a single word, you ken?”
“No, I don’t understand. Not one damn bit of it. How can harmless cooking herbs send Christiana on these wild-ass trips to the future she says she takes?”
The old woman made a clicking sound of disgust with her tongue. “I expected better of you. Of all people.” She shook her head and lowered her spoon to the pot in front of her. “Though I’ve a spell or two up my sleeve, this is no one of them. Those simple herbs work because she believes they work. She has the power all on her own to travel the Vision, but she doubts her own abilities. She’s no like us, laddie.”
That he could believe, since he sincerely doubted there were an overabundance of Faerie descendants walking around out here. Which meant even Orabilis wasn’t like him. What he wasn’t sure of, however, was that he swallowed her story about harmless cooking herbs being some kind of security blanket for Christiana. And he definitely wasn’t falling for the “spell or two” garbage she was spouting.
“Don’t you even try to suck me into the whole witch thing. It may work with those people back at Tordenet, but I know better. Witches aren’t real. They don’t exist.” He gave her a look he hoped was suitably withering.
Her responding grin was not at all what he expected.
“No? So witches dinna exist, eh? No more than, oh, let’s say Faeries exist? What have you to say to that one, young lord Noble?”
How could she possibly...He closed his mouth when he realized it hung open, sitting down heavily on the hearth as the old woman cackled, sounding every bit the witch people claimed her to be.
Orabilis was right. He of all people should know better than to question what exceptions existed in the world. It was only that, for some reason, his driving need to protect Christiana kept pushing common sense right out of his reach.
Behind them, the door to the little bedroom opened and Christiana emerged on a cloud of fragrance and steam, her face breaking into one of her rare smiles.
“What have you said to so amuse my Shen-Ora?”
“Only that, should yer brother’s men take another day to arrive, this one will gladly start the digging on a new waste pit for me.” The old woman returned Christiana’s smile, hoisting an eyebrow when she turned to face Chase. “Did you no agree to that, my sweet lad?”
Trapped, he nodded, his mind a blank.
“You should see to yer beastly big animal, Chase, dearling. Before the sun goes down and you lose the day’s light.”
Again he nodded, heading for the door. Only Christiana would fail to see how transparent her old “Shen-Ora” was in trying to get him out of the house and away from her.
“I’ll accompany you, if I might.” Christiana joined him at the door, lifting her cloak from the hook on the wall. “Keeping my body moving has helped me this day. And after the long soak, I’m feeling quite supple.”
Supple?He swallowed hard, hoping neither woman noticed his reaction.
“A good idea,” Orabilis agreed. “Oh, and Chase, dearling, would you mind seeing to my goats and chickens while yer in the shed? Their feed is by the door. Christy can show you where it is if you canna find it on yer own. And by the time you finish, I’ll have yer meals waiting for you.”
“Of course,” he answered. What else could he say with Christiana beaming up at him, her eyes shining like those of a child on Christmas morning?
Though, seriously, the “dearling” stuff was laying it on bit thick.
“Is it no wonderful here?” Christiana asked as the door closed behind them. “This place has such a feel to it. It’s as if I’m breathing in pure life.” As she turned away, he took her hand to steady her walk.“Sounds daft when I say it aloud, I suppose, but I do love my visits here.”
“It doesn’t sound daft.”
Nothing she said sounded anything but beautiful, her voice lilting like a melody written just for him.
Inside the shed, he helped her take a seat on an old wooden bench before beginning the task of feeding the animals.
“Thank you for yer kindness to Orabilis. Many find her to be fair intimidating at first, but she’s a dear, kind woman and very special to me.”
That much was clear to him, though not the reason why.