White Blood by Angela Holder Page B

between them, thickening. Maryn began to catch glimpses of shapes forming within. Vague and indistinct at first, they gradually resolved. Her own face first, just as it had appeared in the mirror, though drained of all color in the white mist. Then, fainter, and wavering a little even when they reached full resolution, two other faces. Maryn caught her breath and bit back a cry. There were Edrich’s beloved smile and bushy eyebrows. And there were Frilan’s plump baby cheeks and long lashes, and the unbearable sweetness of his bow-shaped lips.
    Coewyn scowled at her, and Maryn choked down her sobs. She fixed all her attention on the cloud, to feast her eyes on the dear faces as long as possible.
    Rogelan’s chanting went on. The faces in the mist held steady, nothing else appearing. Too soon for Maryn, the sorcerer lowered his hands. The shapes faded into indistinctness, and the mist began to disperse. When it was fully gone, Rogelan’s chanting shifted, and Maryn began to recognize some of the phrases again. The remnants of the pool of blood and milk burst into a fountain of blue sparks. The buzz, which had subsided into a background drone, crescendoed to a teeth;-;rattling throb before ceasing. The sparks died, until all that remained was the mirror, smudged with residue. Rogelan brought his spell to a close with a reverent intonation of the closing words, and fell silent.
    Coewyn broke the silence first. “Well, girl, it seems you spoke the truth.” She turned to the sorcerer. “I only saw the three. Did I miss any faint traces?”
    Rogelan examined the tip of his knife. There was a bit of blood residue, but he apparently detected no power left in it, for he wiped the blade on a cloth at his belt and sheathed it. “No, no traces. Just the three, and the two clearly passed into the next world. She’s free of kin-ties.”
    Coewyn sighed, and for the first time since Maryn had entered her office seemed to relax. “That’s a relief. I’d been worried we were going to have to settle for that woman from Whito and pay off the friend to take her son out of the country. But there would always have been the possibility of something like what happened with that milk;-;sister of Marolan’s, and you remember what a mess that was.”
    “Indeed.” Rogelan rose and moved out from behind the desk. “This girl will serve much better. Good work finding her.”
    Joy and terror churned together in Maryn’s gut. It was going to happen. They were going to give her the job. She hadn’t believed it was possible, not really. In the back of her mind she had never stopped rehearsing the gracious words she would use to accept rejection and thank the Stewardess for her consideration. She had plotted the route from the palace to the merchants’ guildhouse; the coins to pay for her passage back to Ralo were safe in her purse. Becoming the prince’s wet nurse was only a dream. She had to go through the steps so she could say she had tried everything, before accepting her fate and going back to the miserable but familiar life of a serf. But now, impossibly, the dream was becoming real. What had she gotten herself into?
    Coewyn ushered Rogelan to the door. “Thank you again for your aid.”
    “It’s no more than my duty. Don’t hesitate to call whenever you have need.” He swept from the room.
    Coewyn turned back to Maryn. “Well, Maryn, my choice is clear. The position is yours. Now let us discuss the terms of your contract.”
    Maryn fought an impulse to stammer a refusal and flee. She would not throw this chance away, not after she had worked so hard and come so far. She drew a deep, shaky breath. “Thank you, Madam Coewyn.”
    “Thank me after the prince is safely born and your place is secure.” The Stewardess sat down at her desk and pulled a cloth from the drawer. She picked up the mirror, rubbed off the sticky film of blood and milk residue, and tucked cloth and mirror away. “With any luck this will see much use in the