would enjoy the rich fragrance filling the air.
"Well, I slipped and let on to the Witch I could read the words. Even then, she could make your blood run cold with a single glance." Mother and Gerry scanned the floors to make sure no scavengers or small animals had gotten in to damage the spices.
Gerry knew he had to look like a child caught up in a good tale. "What happened?"
Mother chuckled a little. "She asked me what I was going to do with such an unusual skill. The way she said it, well, I can hear her still. Like she was asking me if I was going to take myself in hand in the center of the market and have a good wank."
Mother's comment brought a smile to Gerry's lips. "Now that sounds like her."
***
After his shift, Gerry was not at all surprised to arrive home and see lamps still lit and a thin trickle of smoke rising from the chimney. Gerry opened the door and Ghost raised his head, his formulary open and a cup in his hand. Exhaustion had left faint bruises under Ghost's eyes, but he brightened when he saw Gerry.
Ghost stood up and stretched. On the formulary cabinet, Gerry saw a basket full of small linen packets marked with daubs of colored wax. Ghost had been busy, and now he was reading over the ancient text. A scrap of paper was next to the formulary, covered in Ghost's tiny writing.
"Any luck?" Gerry asked.
Ghost frowned and sank back down onto his chair. Gerry sat across from him. Ghost twisted his white hair with his ink-smudged fingers. From the looks of Ghost's tangled mop, he had been worrying his hair all evening.
"The hunt is frustrating," Ghost admitted. "A dozen references seem to match the symptoms, but then nothing. They just stop short. I'm going to have to contact the sisterhood in the morning."
"You're sure you want to talk to them?" Gerry reached out to capture one restless hand, Ghost's fingers feeling so soft next to his own calloused hand. "You're willing to deal with the witches who think you're not supposed to be one of them?"
"I have to face them. I can't hide. Those witches win if I do." He sounded determined, and Gerry felt Ghost's slim fingers tighten. "What's important is finding out what this outbreak is, and how to deal with its ravages, before the damned plague gets out of hand. I don't want to be the witch who let his village die because he was scared someone would speak harshly to him. I have to think about the people who are looking to me to help them."
"And what about the Witch herself? Don't you want to try and reach her?" Gerry cupped his free hand around Ghost's cheek. "She might have seen something like this before."
Ghost tangled his fingers with Gerry's. "If she has any information, she'll contact me. But I'm not going to waste time waiting for her. She won't answer a scrying call when she doesn't want to be bothered." He stood, not releasing Gerry's hand. "Let's go to bed. I want to feel you hold me as you sing me to sleep."
Chapter 5
Ghost slept well but woke to an empty bed. He padded to the living room and peeked out the window to find Gerry sitting on the low garden wall, strumming his guitar. Gerry looked relaxed and thoughtful while enjoying the unusually warm autumn morning.
Ghost decided he had no reasonable excuse to avoid reaching out to the witchsisters. He removed the scrying mirror from the back of his formulary cabinet, unwrapped the soft layers of hide protecting it, and peered into the polished silver surface.
Ghost focused his will as he visualized his message. Unlike many of his other tools, the scrying mirror was not a relic of the ancients. The talent for telepathy marked Ghost as a true witch. Telepathy was the magic that had to be in the blood, the gift of the Seeker herself to her chosen witches. He decided to send an open call to all the sisterhood, although a widespread call was harder and took more out of him. The more witches who heard him, the more likely he was to get responses. His mental voice was strong as he shaped the
"Well, I slipped and let on to the Witch I could read the words. Even then, she could make your blood run cold with a single glance." Mother and Gerry scanned the floors to make sure no scavengers or small animals had gotten in to damage the spices.
Gerry knew he had to look like a child caught up in a good tale. "What happened?"
Mother chuckled a little. "She asked me what I was going to do with such an unusual skill. The way she said it, well, I can hear her still. Like she was asking me if I was going to take myself in hand in the center of the market and have a good wank."
Mother's comment brought a smile to Gerry's lips. "Now that sounds like her."
***
After his shift, Gerry was not at all surprised to arrive home and see lamps still lit and a thin trickle of smoke rising from the chimney. Gerry opened the door and Ghost raised his head, his formulary open and a cup in his hand. Exhaustion had left faint bruises under Ghost's eyes, but he brightened when he saw Gerry.
Ghost stood up and stretched. On the formulary cabinet, Gerry saw a basket full of small linen packets marked with daubs of colored wax. Ghost had been busy, and now he was reading over the ancient text. A scrap of paper was next to the formulary, covered in Ghost's tiny writing.
"Any luck?" Gerry asked.
Ghost frowned and sank back down onto his chair. Gerry sat across from him. Ghost twisted his white hair with his ink-smudged fingers. From the looks of Ghost's tangled mop, he had been worrying his hair all evening.
"The hunt is frustrating," Ghost admitted. "A dozen references seem to match the symptoms, but then nothing. They just stop short. I'm going to have to contact the sisterhood in the morning."
"You're sure you want to talk to them?" Gerry reached out to capture one restless hand, Ghost's fingers feeling so soft next to his own calloused hand. "You're willing to deal with the witches who think you're not supposed to be one of them?"
"I have to face them. I can't hide. Those witches win if I do." He sounded determined, and Gerry felt Ghost's slim fingers tighten. "What's important is finding out what this outbreak is, and how to deal with its ravages, before the damned plague gets out of hand. I don't want to be the witch who let his village die because he was scared someone would speak harshly to him. I have to think about the people who are looking to me to help them."
"And what about the Witch herself? Don't you want to try and reach her?" Gerry cupped his free hand around Ghost's cheek. "She might have seen something like this before."
Ghost tangled his fingers with Gerry's. "If she has any information, she'll contact me. But I'm not going to waste time waiting for her. She won't answer a scrying call when she doesn't want to be bothered." He stood, not releasing Gerry's hand. "Let's go to bed. I want to feel you hold me as you sing me to sleep."
Chapter 5
Ghost slept well but woke to an empty bed. He padded to the living room and peeked out the window to find Gerry sitting on the low garden wall, strumming his guitar. Gerry looked relaxed and thoughtful while enjoying the unusually warm autumn morning.
Ghost decided he had no reasonable excuse to avoid reaching out to the witchsisters. He removed the scrying mirror from the back of his formulary cabinet, unwrapped the soft layers of hide protecting it, and peered into the polished silver surface.
Ghost focused his will as he visualized his message. Unlike many of his other tools, the scrying mirror was not a relic of the ancients. The talent for telepathy marked Ghost as a true witch. Telepathy was the magic that had to be in the blood, the gift of the Seeker herself to her chosen witches. He decided to send an open call to all the sisterhood, although a widespread call was harder and took more out of him. The more witches who heard him, the more likely he was to get responses. His mental voice was strong as he shaped the
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