Heart's Magic by Flora Speer Page A

and perhaps destroying her cousin,
Brice.
    But he was bound to continue what he had
begun. It was his duty to see the task through to the end, for
other lives than his and Mirielle’s depended on his actions. The
very existence of Wroxley depended on him.

Chapter 4.
     
     
    The essence of all art is to conceal art.
    Gerald of Wales
    The Description of Wales.
     
     
    Mirielle’s workroom, the place that was her
private sanctuary, was located in a quiet part of the keep. The
walls were lined with wooden shelves to hold the supplies and the
vessels necessary to her work. Herbs were hung from the rafters to
dry above the oak worktable. A single, shuttered window opened onto
the inner bailey to provide light during the daytime hours.
    With Brice’s permission, Ewain the blacksmith
had seen to the building of the low, square furnace that was tucked
into one corner. Though untutored in Mirielle’s skills, because of
his own work with metals Ewain understood her requirements and
Mirielle was well pleased with the furnace, which served several
purposes. It kept the room warm, so the herbs dried quickly and
evenly. The flat, waist-high top of the furnace provided a hot
surface when Mirielle was making certain herbal preparations that
required heat. And there was space on the top surface for the
athanor she used when she undertook other, more esoteric work.
    There were only two books and one scroll in
the room and these Mirielle kept in a box for safety when she was
not using them. Having studied those written materials frequently,
she knew them almost by heart. With the scroll and the books as her
guides Mirielle had gone on to create her own experiments with
herbs and with the few metals she was able to acquire with the
blacksmith’s help. She had become expert in making herbal
medicines, though her other projects were not always so
successful.
    The castle folk valued Mirielle’s abilities
as chatelaine and healer and they were grateful for her influence
over Brice, which she used to encourage him to improve living
conditions on Wroxley lands. Those same folk were more than a bit
wary of the arts Mirielle practiced in her workroom and so they
kept away from it. Being well aware that some of her preparations
could do more harm than good if they should fall into careless
hands, Mirielle used a special latch she had devised to keep the
workroom door securely closed when she was not there.
    Reaching the door after her flight from
Giles, Mirielle found the latch untouched since she had secured it
earlier in the day. Minn sat beside the door, waiting for her.
There was no one about to see Mirielle and her cat enter the unlit
workroom and thus no one to hear her exclamation of surprise when
she realized she was not the only person present.
    “There’s naught to fear,” said a voice from
somewhere near the furnace. “I mean no harm and I have disturbed
nothing of yours.”
    “Master Hugh?” Mirielle stood perfectly
still, trying to locate him. Beside her Minn began to purr. The
sound convinced Mirielle that Hugh had spoken a simple truth. She
need not fear her visitor. “How did you come inside without
unfastening the latch? And why have you neglected to light one of
the lamps?”
    “It seemed to me likely that you would seek
respite in your own special place,” Hugh replied.
    “But, the latch -”
    “Perhaps I flew in the window.”
    “You could not. The shutter has a similar
latch on it.” Mirielle responded to the humor in Hugh’s voice, and
then she caught her breath. “When you spoke just then, you sounded
like my dear Cerra.”
    “Your teacher?”
    “Yes. Master Hugh, you may be able to see in
the dark, but I have never learned that skill. Let me strike the
flint.” She knew where it was. She knew where everything in her
room was, for she kept the place neat and clean, as Cerra had
explained was necessary for the practice of healing—or for
alchemical experiments or the study of magic.
    Mirielle’s fingers