by Iscah
She soon understood that Urites considered every one of their neighboring countries to suffer greatly from mental decline.
After much searching, she found a tiny little bookstore in Loch High. It was a claustrophobic space with books stacked on shelves all the way to the ceiling, most of them second hand. The girl loved it.
On a whim, she asked the owner if he had any books on magic. With a furtive look around the empty store and a secretive grin, the shriveled old bookseller brought some little tomes out from behind the counter. "I'm not supposed to have books on magic. Witchcraft is illegal you know, though there hasn't been a witch in Uritz in over a century. These came in a batch with a traveler. The man I bought them from claimed they are over three hundred years old, but that's impossible. The pages would be far more brittle than they are."
"Maybe someone used magic to make them last longer," the girl suggested. She gently touched the spine of one, and it seemed to sing a different tune than the other books in the shop.
The old man chuckled. "Well, I think it's all a bunch of harmless nonsense for the most part. But I'm sure they're highly creative. If you want to buy them, I'll sell them very cheaply. Just promise me you won't tell anyone where you got them."
"Of course not," the girl promised.
Books were not valued as highly in Uritz. Uritz had no formal school system, so it was mainly nobility and merchants who had the ability to read and not all of them the desire. Even so, it took several extra shows, and a little creative gambling to pull together the money to buy the books.
Once the girl had the precious books, she holed up in her cave and read, or at least she tried. One book was a reference for potions and ingredients. Another was in a language she did not know, and the third was written in a very old form of Western Costal with lots of "ye"s and "thou"s, which slowed her progress. The fourth book was on witchcraft. The girl read a little of it but quickly realized that witchcraft and magic were very different things and that there was probably good reason for the former being banned.
Even so, she was glad for her treasures and wondered if other bookstores in other cities might hold similar relics of magic. The potions book proved very useful as it helped her identify plants, some of which she found in the forest and was able to sell to the herbalist. This trade with the herbalist allowed her to spend more time studying in her cave and acquire some little domestic comforts, jars and pots and thick blankets.
She was able to practice the magic she learned in the privacy of the woods. She learned the songs to make plants grow taller and healthier and used this skill to turn her stick fence into a true wall by growing vines to weave between the dead branches. Some of the branches had enough life left in them that she was able to coax them into spreading roots under the soil. She replanted some of the herbs she found closer to the cave mouth, so she could take clippings more easily. She was a lazy gardener, so the plants grew in wild patches.
It was nearly three weeks before she went to the castle to look for the harelip. She had been growing an idea this entire time, and she was ready to see if the harelip was game. She had learned from the pub talk that the prince's name was Leifhound, and she spotted him walking the grounds before she could find the harelip. This time she hid to avoid his notice.
The castle was a lively place. The domed towers were built from a yellowish stone, which gave it a golden look in the sunlight. It was set above the city and over to the side, though there were a few businesses and fine homes settled near it. There was a high wall of the same yellow stone surrounding the castle, but the gates stood open wide. Many well-dressed nobles and servants alike passed in and out.
On the far side of the castle was a wide creek and a sloping meadow. She found the harelip there among the other washing women. The women were busy with their work, so she sat and watched for a while. The harelip was a young woman with straight brown hair tied back with a thin scrap of twine. Beyond her deformity, she was a plain looking girl who dressed neatly and cleanly but took no special care with her appearance. She kept her face downcast out of habit and stayed close to an older woman who the girl guessed to be her mother.
They hung wet clothing on lines and as they dried, folded them into baskets. When the basket was full, one of the women would take the load back into the castle. The harelip's turn at this task came, and it was then the girl approached her and said hello.
The young woman with the harelip gave a gruff hello in reply and kept walking. The girl followed her into the castle. "Do you need something?" the young woman asked after she had set down her load.
"I was wondering if I could help you," the girl said quietly.
"I don't need anything," the young woman replied in the same gruff voice, still turning her face away out of habit.
"Please, let me show you something," the girl said. She waited until the hall had cleared around them, then split her own lip into copy of the harelip's mouth. The young woman's eyes widened, and she nearly stumbled over her own feet as she stepped back. "Watch," the girl ordered and returned her lip to its normal shape. "I think I could heal your lip if you'd like. Not as quickly, but if you'd let me, I'd like to try."
The young woman covered her lip with her hand. She looked very frighten, but behind the fear was a glimmer of longing. "You're a witch," she said. "Won't sell me soul for vanity."
"I don't want your soul," the girl said. She had hoped her offer would be better received. "I'll be honest, it's a bit of an experiment, but I really think I may be able to get your lip to grow. I won't make you do anything. I don't know exactly how long it will take. We can stop if you don't like it. But I would like to try."
The young woman looked slightly less frightened but confusion was replacing the fear.
"Why don't you think it over?" the girl suggested. "I'll come back tomorrow for your answer."
The girl left the young woman with the harelip and hurried home to her cave. The next day she returned as promised and met the young woman outside the castle walls.
"Me muther says I should let you try," the young woman said, still keeping her face turned down towards the ground. "It's not vanity mind you, but she thinks I'm more likely to get a husband. No man will marry a harelip. But she wants me to be sure of the price, says there's always a price, and I better know it 'fore I agree."
"No price," the girl said. "But if I succeed, I want you to tell people who's done it."
"There's always a price," the young woman with the harelip said skeptically.
The girl bit back a sigh. "Why don't you pay me by bringing supper with you every evening? We can eat together before I work on your lip. Is that a deal?"
The young woman nodded, and while it was hard to read an expression with her face turned away, the girl thought she looked a bit relieved. The girl waited and walked the young woman to the cave the first evening. After that she let the young woman come by herself.
Healing the lip turned out to be a simple if slow process. Most things preferred not to alter their natural state, but it was natural for living things to grow. Plants liked growing, so feeding their natural pattern was a simple sort of magic. Healing a harelip was very similar to growing a plant. The body knew how it was supposed to be. It had simply forgotten to finish growing and needed to be reminded. Every evening she tapped the edges to the split lip with her finger to wake them up, then she sang a chant to encourage them to grow. She made a salve from directions found in her new book and spread this on the lip to help with any discomfort the healing caused.
It was gratifying to see the skin grow in and feel the bone beneath knit and take shape.
The young woman, however, was a bit of a disappointment. The girl had hoped that gratitude and shared supper might lead them to become friends, but the young women with the harelip, whose perverse mother had named Haret, was an uneducated and dull person. Haret was grateful, but it was clear to the girl that she was still a little frightened of this cave witch. Even so, as her face improved, Haret did gr
ow a little happier. She was faithful about bringing supper and held her head a little higher each evening.
It was two full weeks of work, but by the time they finished, Haret had a perfectly normal palate. She was still far from pretty, but Leifhound could not get away with calling her ugly anymore.
"Thank you," the young woman said, both smiling and sniffing away tears at the same time. "I was wondering, lady." Since the girl could give Haret no name, Haret took to calling her lady. "Do you think you could fix this too?" she asked, running her hand along her unibrow and looking guilty over the vanity.
"Oh," the girl said. "Well, I think you can just pluck those out or shave like men do."
Chapter 18
The girl had hoped that healing the harelip would bring her some wealthy clients with deeper purses. Her potions book was full of many little cures, and she liked the idea of getting paid and helping people at the same time. Still she had not expected her first client so soon. Being master of her own schedule, she slept in late and was just fixing her breakfast in the fire pit when Prince Leifhound burst through her open door.
"You?" he panted, looking rather flabbergasted. "You healed the harelip?"
The girl nodded apprehensively. The prince had the power to cut off her head after all.
The prince for his part narrowed his eyes and looked at her again like he had in the marketplace. "I wouldn't believe it, but I saw her. I made her tell me how it had been done. Is that why you were looking for her?"
"Yes," the girl said.
"And was that really you in the graveyard?" the prince demanded. "The hareli—the wash girl—"
"Haret."
The prince twitched but shook off this information as unimportant. "The girl you healed said you were a witch who could change your face."
"I'm not a witch," the girl said carefully. "But the rest is true."
"Show me," the prince demanded.
The girl looked down at the fire and stirred her breakfast. "I don't think I'm going to do it anymore. It scares people. I healed the harelip so people would see that magic can do good things."
"I'm a prince," Leifhound declared with crossed arms and a lift of his sharp chin. "I don't scare easily. I want to see your face change, or I'll have your tongue cut out for lying."
A sudden heat of anger made the girl want to scare the prince a little, so she changed her face into a copy of his own. The prince's eyes grew wide, then he smiled. "All right, I believe you," he said and squatted down so they would be eye level. "You are an odd one, aren't you?"
"You're not frightened?"
"Why would I be frightened?" the prince asked. "It is a little disconcerting to stare at one's self, though, particularly in a dress. I'm a handsome enough fellow, but I'd think it better if you were a girl again."
Feeling the rise of a different sort of heat, the girl changed her face back and took her breakfast off the fire.
"Can you look like anyone?" the prince asked, still watching her intently.
The girl nodded. "It's easier if I can see them. Sometimes I copy without realizing."
"Yes, I see," the prince said. "You kept a little of my eye and hair color. Don't you have a regular face of your own?"
The girl shrugged. "I don't think I've ever looked at myself," she said.
"What's your name, little witch?"
"I don't have one," the girl admitted, knowing this was another matter that usually unnerved people.
But the prince barely reacted. "Well, that's easy. I don't have to worry about forgetting it. I have a terrible memory for names. Gets me into awful trouble." He grinned, and she began to understand that most of what he said was only half-serious. "Tell me about the magic you can do."
While the girl felt some lingering reluctance to discuss the subject, the prince's attentiveness soon loosened her tongue.
"Oh, you are a treasure," he said, when she had finished. "I think you're right though. Common people might not appreciate your talents. They'll like cures for their colds well enough, but let's keep your face changing a secret between the two of us. Would you do that?"
Not sure what else to say, the girl agreed.
"Wonderful," the prince said. He began to look around her humble cave with an air of consideration and distaste. "You live here alone. No parents? No brother?" She said nothing in response and simply stared back at him until he remembered. "Oh, right. Well, don't worry. I'll take care of you now. I think I'm going to keep you on retainer. Do you know what that means?"
The girl shook her head.
"That means I'll pay you a nice monthly salary not to work for anyone else but me."
"You'll pay me not to work?" the girl asked.
"Oh, you'll have work just not all the time."
The girl frowned thoughtfully. "But what would I do with myself when I'm not working?"
"Whatever you want," said the prince, squatting down again. "I don't think you fully realize what sort of gift you have." The prince now examined her with the same look of consideration and distaste that he used to look over her cave. "When was the last time you had a new dress?"
"I don't know," the girl said, which was not entirely true, but she did not want to discuss the old man's death with the prince. She had sold all but two of her dresses for the journey and supposed they were looking a little threadbare.
"Well, come along, let's go to the market."
The girl opened her mouth to object, but Leifhound held out his hand for hers. "Better douse your fire," he suggested. The girl spoke some quick words, and the fire went out. Leifhound's grin widened. "You are a wonder." He took her hand and pulled her along with him back towards town and the marketplace.
He released her hand when they came in sight of the townsfolk but was sure to keep her close. "This ragamuffin is offending my eyes with her shabby dress," he told the shopkeeper in an easy tone. "What have you got to make her presentable?"
In a blur of minutes, the girl found herself with a new dress in yellow tones that reminded her of the castle walls, and three more in red, green, and blue for later. They were not particularly expensive dresses, but they were new and well made, appropriate to a successful tradesman's daughter. The prince went on to buy her two pairs of new shoes, which she sorely needed, and a hair ribbon which she didn't. He carried no money with him but told each merchant to send the charge up to the castle.
"Isn't it strange for you to walk around without an escort?" the girl asked, when they stopped for lunch.
Leifhound laughed. "My mother doesn't like it, but father doesn't mind. I usually take the escort out when I want to be noticed. Formal inspections and informal tours, that sort of thing. Loch High is a fairly safe city, particularly if you stick to the crowds and main roads. Besides, I'm the oldest of seven brothers, so I'm expendable. It's not like in Cordance where they have only one prince. I hear he's hardly let out of his mother's sight. Then again, what is he now...ten? I wouldn't let my ten-year-old brother run about the marketplace unescorted. Really only the last couple years I've been allowed."
He took her inside a hat shop and placed a purple cap with a red feather her head. "That suits you."
The girl could not help smiling from the attention. It had been a long time since anyone had bought her something. "What sort of work will I be doing?" she asked, when they left the shop and headed back in the direction of the castle.
"Oh, this and that," Leifhound said. "You strike me as fairly versatile. I'd just much rather have you on my side, before someone else takes you on theirs."
"Do you have enemies?" the girl asked.
"Not that I'm aware of," the prince said. "But I'm in line to be king, and a king needs to take precautions to keep his crown."
"Is that why you want me to be a secret?"
"You understand me," Leifhound said, as they came in view of the castle. He stopped and his eyes grew distant. "Little witch, I have a strange favor to ask of you."
"Is this part of my job?" she asked, eager to
be useful.
"No, no," the prince said slowly. "It's a personal favor, but I think it might save me from madness."
Intrigued, the girl looked up at him curiously. "What do you want me to do?"
Chapter 19
Prince Leifhound did not answer right away but led the girl towards a grove of trees for privacy. There were a few large rocks among the trees, and he sat down on one of them. "Might be a bad idea, but I'm going to ask anyway, since you're the only one who could possibly help me."
"I'm listening," the girl said, taking a seat beside him on the rock.
The prince spoke in a low voice. "You see there's this girl I'd really like to kiss, but I can't because she's promised to another man."
"How can I help with that?" the girl wondered. She knew no magic spells for changing hearts.
"You can make yourself look like her, and then I can kiss you."
It was late afternoon now, and the low sun on the tall trees cast long shadows. "You wouldn't really be kissing her then," the girl pointed out.
One of these long fingers of shade crossed the prince where he sat, casting him half in light and half in shadow. "No," he conceded easily. "But I figure it's the next best thing."
"What does she look like?" the girl asked.
"Come with me," the prince said eagerly, taking her hand again. "I'll show her to you." Despite his earlier wisdom on sticking to crowded areas for safety, Leifhound led her through a series of back alleys. He stopped behind a retaining wall. While the wall was fairly short from their side, it dropped considerably on the other. Sounds of a gathering floated over the wall. The prince crouched down so he could peek through a break in the stones and indicated for the girl to do the same.