He eyed her thoughtfully. Then, changing the subject, he said, “So. Have a little mishap in the kitchen this evening, did we?”
She blanched.
He chuckled.
Connall grabbed an ale horn and started polishing it. “Do me a favor, love. Take some time off tomorrow morning and make a trip over to see Agnes. We are running low on tea at the house, and this old leg won’t let me walk that far right now. I particularly need whatever blend takes the edge off my pain.”
“No problem. Anything else?” She smiled, happy to have avoided a discussion about her ever-wandering mind.
He paused before returning to his polishing. “You ought to ask her if she has anything for those nightmares, too.”
Hazel raised an eyebrow.How?
Connall just winked and gestured the polished ale horn in a mockingcheersmotion. “A father always knows.”
AUNT AGNES
The next morning, Hazel set off to visit Agnes.AuntAgnes, as she was lovingly known, held an honorary position in the Callahan family. As far as Hazel knew, Agnes had no true relation to their family. Regardless, Agnes had helped raise Hazel, coming into their lives after her mother’s death.
Like a gift from the gods, she arrived just when she was needed the most, helping Connall get through a terribly traumatic time in his life and playing a critical role in raising little Hazel, who was too young to understand where her mother had gone.
Now, Hazel and Connall mostly relied on Agnes for her wonderful healing teas and her companionship.
The former brought Hazel to Agnes’s corner of the world on a day when the air was heavy and warm, cloudy and gray. Connall’s bad leg bothered him something fierce, and Agnes had a tea blend that helped stave off the pain. But they were completely out, so she’d set out to pay Agnes a visit.
It just so happened to be convenient that Agnes was also the most likely to have answers about what had occurred with the strange black powder in the kitchen. Try as she might,Hazel couldn’t let it go. She patted her satchel, reminded of the unsettling substance she was carrying.
As she approached the clearing in the woods, a familiar buzz tingled along Hazel’s skin. The slight metallic taste at the back of her tongue signaling she was crossing through Agnes’s protective ward.
The first time she’d ever crossed through, it scared her so badly she refused to go back to Agnes’s cottage for a fortnight. The next time she visited, Pa had escorted her, and they’d had a hushed, strange conversation about how Agnes differed from most townspeople, and why it drove her to live on the outskirts of town. She could do things others couldn’t. Things others wouldn’t understand. Pa and Agnes hadn’t used the exact terminology for reasons Hazel now understood, but it went without saying there was a particular name for Agnes’s occupation.
Witch.
Since then, Hazel had grown comfortable making trips to see her aunt in the woods. It was always a pleasant change of pace, especially with how time always slowed in her presence. There was nowhere else she needed to be and no reason to rush.
Once she’d passed through the wards, sunlight blanketed Hazel in warmth as it filtered through the canopy. The area smelled intensely of the oddest combination of tilled, wet earth and freshly baked pie.
As she approached, she could see through Agnes’s front window. A broom swept the floor of its own volition, and a spoon stirred the contents of a cauldron hanging over the fire with no cook to direct it. The sound of soft humming drifted from within.
Enchantments. When Agnes sensed someone entering her wards, she usually cut off any magic currently working in and around her home. However, when Hazel stopped by Agnes always let her see some enchantments at work before cuttingoff the spells. Hazel delighted in seeing the wonderful things that could be done with simple magical housework. I don’t see what the purpose of outlawing this was. It’s harmless, and if anything, ithelpspeople.
Hazel often imagined what life might have been like before the magic disappeared: an entire town of merry folk cooking with magical utensils and keeping their thresholds swept clean with enchanted brooms, looms weaving cozy blankets and sewing needles mending clothes. To her, magic didn’t need to be feared. But something had made the High King feel otherwise.
She approached the door, and before she could knock, a soft voice came from inside.
“Hazel, dear! Is that you? Why, of course it is. Come in, come in!” called the cheerful, raspy voice.
Hazel pushed the door open with a gentle nudge. As it opened, it revealed the cozy interior of the cottage. Agnes was a simple old woman with very few needs. And with any needs she had, she could almost always make do with plants and such around her home. Anything else she might need, well, she just sent for Connall or Hazel, and they’d retrieve whatever she needed from town. She didn’t consume any parts of animals, though, so there wasn’t much in town she couldn’t get elsewhere.
Mouthwatering smells overwhelmed Hazel’s senses as she stepped inside. Though the magically imbued housewares had returned to their otherwise lifeless state, a cauldron of something delicious smelling bubbled over the fire in the hearth. The kitchen was quaint and decorated with many herbs and plants hanging to dry, jars of various seasonings scattered on the countertops. There was a loom and chair off in the corner beside the small yet comfy looking bed, a quilted blanket laid neatly across the top.
It wasn’t much, but it was the most homey, welcoming place Hazel had ever been.
“So, tell me dear, what brings you out to see me? Finally going to let me read those palms of yours?” She winked and her round, tawny face drew into a wrinkled, nearly toothless smile. “But of course, I know why you’re here. Sit, sit! I have a wonderful summer vegetable stew on. It will be ready soon, and I’ll have more than enough to share. I insist.” Her dimpled smile stretched so high into her cheeks it forced her silver eyes into a squint.
Hazel crossed the room to the small table set for two. “I would protest and insist I not keep you busy longer than necessary, but we both know I wouldn’t winthatwar of wills. Besides, I’ve got nowhere else to be.” She smiled warmly at Agnes. “I’ve missed you, Auntie. How have you been?” she asked, pulling out a chair.
“I’m as well as I can be. Nothing to report on in this old woman’s life. No one comes to visit other than you and Connall. Therefore, no one bothers me, and I get to enjoy the company of the forest and the animals. Does it get any better?”
