“It’s a jam shop,” he pointed out. “Says so on the sign.”
“Maybe it will transform into jam soon.” She kept stirring. Outside, Larran was working in the cottage garden again. It had taken a lot of effort to tame the yard into anything reasonable after what Caz dubbed the Great Brambling. Occasionally the members of the Pine Cone Coven had pitched in, along with Larran. Sometimes with Ivor but always with Bryn, Eadie, Ulina, and Radane, they met twice a week to assemble more remedies and learn new spells for healthier plants and trees, kinder weather, and better fishing—Caz would take copious notes for the spellbook that he, Kiela, and Meep were writing, a compilation of the spells of Caltrey. Afterward, the coven would help out a bit in the garden. Kiela always gifted them with extra jam as thanks. It seemed most people in Caltrey were quite fond of jam, especially when combined with Bryn’s pastries. Once word got out about the extra jam, Tobin frequently joined them too. Ulina and Caz took turns playing the harp while the others worked.
Caz swung down from the counter and then up onto the table where he’d left his harp. Using his leaves, he began plucking out a melody. A few more leaves, he added another harmony. Kiela swayed to the music as she stirred. Their newest addition to the family, the tabby cat with green feathers, purred on the hearth along with the music. He’d moved in shortly after the day of the flower storm, and since then he’d become nicely plump and his coat glossy, thanks in part to a steady supply of fish from Larran.
Hearing voices rising above the harp, she glanced out the front window to see the core members of the Pine Cone Coven coming out of the greenery: Bryn, followed by Eadie, Ulina, and Radane. They were carrying baskets of ingredients that they’d gathered, and talking and laughing as they walked.
Larran came inside through the back door. As he removed his gardening gloves, he kissed Kiela’s cheek. He peered into the pot. “Delicious-looking applesauce.”
She sighed. “Thanks.” Moving the pot off the stove, she wondered whether to bother pouring it into jars or just start over. Spooning a bit out, she tested the viscosity. Edible, but it was much closer to applesauce than jam.Tomorrow I’ll try another batch.“The coven’s here. Caz and I were thinking of experimenting with a new water-desalinating remedy. If it works, we can give the fisherfolk and boaters the ability to create as much drinkable water as they need.”
“Sounds useful.”
“Do you want to stick around or—”
“Not today,” Larran said, with an apology in his voice. “I’m going to go down to the cove and check on Sian and the others.” Six of his merhorses were pregnant with foals, and Larran had been hovering as if he were the father. He’d brought them to Kiela’s cove so they could be sheltered from the wind and waves as they neared birthing.
“Who’s with them this morning?” Kiela asked.
Before he could answer, a high-pitched shriek cut through the air. Abandoning the applesauce, Kiela rushed to the door. Larran made it out first.
“Meeeeeeeeeeep!”
Without pausing, Larran barreled past the cactus and down the steps.
“Is it the mares?” Kiela asked. “Is one of them giving birth?”
The cactus bobbed their top half so hard in a clear nod that they fell over. Caz helped them steady themself on their roots, while Kiela dashed back inside to the bookshelves. She pulled out the notebook where she’d compiled notes on how to help with merhorse births. She’d studied it backward and forward already, but now wasn’t the time for error.
“Caz, ingredients!” she called.
“On it!”
She and the plants had set the ingredients aside in a basket, ready to go at any moment, enough for all the mares. Caz retrieved the basket from the cabinet beside the sink, while she got out the pestle and mortar. He dumped in the carefully selected leaves, berries, and seeds.
At the window, Eadie stuck her head in over the counter. “How can we help?”
“Which one of them is giving birth?” Kiela asked Meep.
“Meep, meep, meep,” they said. And then: “Meep.”
Kiela froze in the middle of mashing the ingredients. “Four? Four of them at once? Okay, yes, definitely need help. Thank you, Eadie. Caz, please show the coven the spell.”
Bryn claimed the spellbook from Caz. “We’ll practice.”
“I have never seen a merhorse give birth,” Radane said.
“It’s wet,” Eadie said. “Very wet.”
Outside, the women sat in a circle and began to memorize the syllables. Kiela called out corrections on pronunciation while she prepared the paste. It had to be fresh or she would have had it premixed. She hoped they were quick enough.
As soon as the paste was ready, she rushed outside. Everyone in the coven got to their feet (and hooves), and they all hurried down to the cove.
Larran was hip-deep in the water already, switching from merhorse to merhorse, trying his best to soothe them as they flailed and whinnied in pain. “Kiela!”
“We’re here!” Without bothering to kick off her shoes or undress, she waded directly into the water. It was, thankfully, warm today. Seaweed brushed against her ankles, and the bottom of the cove clung to her shoes. “Help me rub this on them. Anywhere on their scales. They just need to absorb it through their skin into their bloodstream.” She reached for the nearest merhorse, but the mare bit at the air and slapped her tail against the water.
“I’ll steady them. You smear the stuff.” Larran caught the mare’s torso against his chest and began to rub her neck, making soothing crooning noises.
