The Bonds of Blood (24 page)

“I will not let you burn that damned
sage around me,” Grace retorted.

Joya muted a giggle and detached
herself from the conversation.

Rose turned back with something that
appeared to be a frown, but where her wrinkles ended and lips began
was hard to tell.

“Well,” Grace said looking around, “it
has been ten years since I was in here last, but you have expanded
a lot.”

“Yes, indeed,” Rosalee stated, drifting
back behind the counter and spraying something in the air around
her money box. It smelled strangely like sage to
Angelica.

Grace scowled. “Last time you only had
one wall of herbs; now look.” She motioned around as all four walls
were now covered ceiling to floor in shelves upon shelves of herbs.
The front counter hosted a wide selection of oils, soaps, salves,
and teas among other things that Angelica could not name, but was
sure Joya could have.

“Yes, it is rather large now,” Rose
said whimsically. She drifted from behind the counter once more,
tucking the bottle she had sprayed into the pocket of her green,
gauzy gown that swished supinely around her sandaled feet. “You
want a piss-a-bed, my dear?” Rosalee asked Joya who was staring
intently at a specific jar on one of the many shelves.

“Excuse me?” Joya asked sounding
scandalized. Angelica covered her mouth, but it didn’t mask the
giggle that escaped before she could help herself.

“The flower, lovely child, would you
like one?”

“Does it do what the name implies?”
Joya asked seriously.

“Hardly.” Rose waved a hand in
dismissal. “It is used for calling spirits and divination. My guess
is that the person that named it such was sleeping when a spirit
came to him and, well, he named it for the effect the spirit had on
him,” Rosalee said.

“The flower is
not
really called
piss-a-bed,” Grace cut in. Joya looked at her as if startled by
this revelation, or it could have just been that Grace’s voice was
unexpected during her study of the queer woman before her. “It is
really called cankerwort.”

“Piss-a-bed is much more fun to say,”
Rose sniffed and strolled toward Grace looking ruffled. She sniffed
a few times as if there was an odd odor coming from the squat old
lady. Rosalee lowered her hand into her garment and pulled what
appeared to be sage spray from the depths of a pocket before Grace
stopped her short.

“Spray me with that and you will rue
the day you were born, Rosalee Beggets.” Grace raised a dangerous
eyebrow and finger. Rosalee made a strange noise in her throat, and
turned to Angelica.

“Oh, another lovely child you brought
me, Grace,” Rosalee said. She uncharacteristically rushed to
Angelica, who backed into a corner with a yelp at the lady’s
unexpected fast movement. “Like liquid sunshine,” she cooed,
reaching out a hand to touch Angelica’s hair. Angelica looked at
her skeptically when she saw the contented look the woman possessed
while gazing upon her hair.

“Rose, now really, I told you at the
party no petting the children.” Any jesting quickly parted at
Grace’s stern warning. “How in the Realms do you run a business? We
have come to buy.”

At this Rosalee turned at once from
Angelica and motioned Grace forward. “Come now, my dear crone.” She
held out her arm, though she continued to scan the area around
Grace, as if looking at energy pulsing around her. Rosalee wrinkled
her nose distastefully, and Grace sighed, rolling her eyes. “What
have you now?” Rosalee urged.

“I want all the copal you have; we are
on a very long voyage I would think, and we need something at night
to keep dalua at bay.” Grace paced to the area that contained all
the herbs marked with “C.”

“Ah, yes, I can give you quite a bit; I
would think it will do the job. Remember though, you only need a
handful every three hours,” Rosalee instructed knowingly. She
gathered up the appropriate jar and carried it back to the counter
where she emptied the jar into a rather large package.

“What else?” she asked, binding the
package and replacing the empty jar on the shelf.

As Rosalee shuffled back, Grace handed
her a list of herbs. She scanned the parchment quickly, then met
Grace’s stare. “Grace, all of these herbs are
poisonous.”

“I know,” Grace said, flashing a weak
smile. Angelica perked up as she scanned the names on some jars
closest to her, not really reading the names on the labels.
“Besides, I have the finished product. If you would like that, no
need in going through the trouble to prepare it
yourself.”

“Rosalee Beggets, you are not supposed
to—” Grace started, straightening her back.

“I know, and I am not,” Rosalee cut in
smoothly, heading off disaster. “It is a precaution, a just in
case, if you know what I mean.”

Grace glared at Rosalee for some time,
as if she were trying to decide if the crazed looking woman were
telling her the truth or not, then finally she said stiffly, “Fine.
I want a pint of it. Plus I need some curative salves and balms if
you have them. I am sure we will need all we can get.”

“I have a variety, Grace. I think it
would be best if you looked over the display.” Rosalee gestured
airily to a wooden rack as she went back through the back door to
retrieve what Angelica could only imagine was the
poison.

Grace took some time in selecting from
the rack of jars, but when she was done she had four small bottles
and a new pouch of needles.

“Will that be all?”

“Yes, I think it will be. I have the
other things I need in my pack,” Grace leaned on the
counter.

“Will you be staying for the night?”
Rosalee sounded as close to happy as any of them had heard since
first walking through the front door as she tallied the cost in her
head.

“Yes, I assume that we will be able to
stay with you?”

“Of course,” Rosalee said, her mouth
moving as she whispered prices to herself. When she had finished
calculating, she looked at Grace with a smile. “You can bunk with
me and the girls in my nephew’s room, since he can stay in the main
room.”

“Jovian is with us too,” Joya said,
finally turning from her inspection of the herbs, telling Angelica
that she, too, had been listening.

“That is all fine; he can stay in the
main room as well.” Rosalee’s hand was outstretched, waiting for
the money from Grace.

“Speaking of which, would you mind if
the girls went to your home now and freshened up for the ritual
while I go hunt Jovian down?” With a nod from Rosalee, Grace looked
at the girls. “Take the horses to Rosalee’s home; it is directly
behind here. You won’t miss it; I think her house is the only one
that has more flowers than actual building.”

Angelica and Joya nodded their
understanding and left the shop in a tinkling of bells.

“Do they suspect anything yet, Grace?”
Rosalee asked in a somewhat pained voice.

“No, I don’t think they do,”
Grace said. “I think it will be a
very
interesting journey
indeed.”

“You aren’t going to tell
them?”

“Not yet they are too busy thinking
about Amber than anything else.”

“She went missing then?” Rosalee asked.
“I had heard, but I didn’t believe before.”

“Yes, just disappeared one
night.”

“Curious … we had someone from the town
go missing as well. We have a constable and a verax-acis trying to
find him.”

Grace jolted at the name of the
creature. “Why?”

“Well, his name was Astanel Lusmore. He
went missing, oh, I dare say just before Maeven and I left for the
birthday party. He was a young thing, acted very strange the few
weeks before he came up missing.” Rose continued to tell Grace what
she knew about the disappearance of the boy, and Grace listened
intently. “Of course, some people think he might have just wandered
off into the Shadow Realm for some strange reason. I, however,
think Astanel was a much smarter boy than that. Others think that
Randal Johnston abducted him and, well, you know the perverse way
people’s minds can work sometimes. Randal’s case is being tried
today, and I do not support it one bit. However, there is something
dangerous happening, Grace, and you know the silly things people
make up to discredit danger.”

“Maybe …” Grace muttered, looking out
the door as if trying to find a train of thought which was eluding
her. “These things might be linked, you know, both of them
missing.”

“I dare say they might,” Rosalee said,
walking around and picking up a few trinkets scattered about the
counter in preparation for closing down the shop.

“At any rate, I had better go get
Jovian before the ceremony starts. He will want to freshen up too I
think.”

Rosalee nodded and walked Grace to the
door. The old lady left just as a spray of sage enveloped her, but
the door was shut and barred too quickly for Grace to exact revenge
on Rosalee who, even now, stood arms crossed with a smug look on
her face.

The loud clicking of heels brought
Jovian back to the present with a start. He turned and saw the same
strangely dressed, bushy-haired woman he had seen outside stepping
through the open oak doors. Her long gray dress whisked tightly
around her ankles, and her gray-heeled boots were hidden under the
hem. In her hands she carried the long black cane that was held
before her like a weapon rather than a walking aid.

She looked at him and smiled tightly,
the monocle poised over her right cheek lifting slightly with the
gesture. He noticed that her smile was unfriendly—much more like a
scowl than anything else.

But Jovian then stepped back
unconsciously for there was, behind her, one of the most horrifying
looking beings Jovian had ever seen.

Sweeping through the door behind the
woman was a tall, sickly-thin man in floor-length black robes. The
heaviness of his uniform made Jovian sweat thinking of wearing
something that cumbersome on such a warm evening. It did not seem
to bother this man, however.

The man was bald, and every last inch
of his exposed skin was deadly grayish-white. Jovian would bet a
large sum that the creature’s entire body reflected this awful
color. He looked at Jovian with blank, black orbs that served as
eyes. When he grinned, a mouthful of pointed teeth peeked like tiny
daggers from behind his crusty lips, which cracked with the
effort.

The creature looked completely out of
place in the entrance hall, as though he would be better placed in
a graveyard, certainly not here in a civilized building.

Jovian shivered as the thing leered at
him.

“Beckindal, come,” the woman in gray
barked, a voice that fit her demeanor perfectly. The creature
lowered his head again, and it wasn’t until their eyes parted that
Jovian noticed the chains hanging from his wrists. From the clank
of his passing, Jovian guessed the man had similar chains around
his ankles.

The woman closed the door at the end of
the hall stoutly behind them, but it didn’t latch, and instead
creaked open slightly to emit a horrified scream from inside the
room.

“I don’t know what happened to him, I
swear,” a man cried.

“We will see,” the woman didn’t sound
convinced.

“Constable Madalinda, if you are
ready,” said a calm, almost bored voice.

“We are, Your Honor,” said the woman.
“Beckindal, the accused, please.”

From the shrieks beyond, the white man
was obviously doing something the accused did not care for. Jovian
could not stop himself; he had to see what was happening. Slowly he
crept forward and peeked through the opening in the
door.

Beckindal stood before a ragged looking
man, also in chains, his dead-white hands clasped around the other
man’s head like talons, holding him in place. The man’s eyes were
blank, staring, as if he were no longer present inside his own
body. Beckindal’s mouth hung open unnaturally wide, as if barely
hinged on and tiny bits of blood marred his skin. A strange rasping
came out of the Beckindal’s mouth, and his black eyes held the
accused man’s petrified gaze.