Page 43 of The Noldrin Witch

Kurt knew the fairy was usually buried under the responsibilities of organizing the magic staff, so he tried to be brief. “I’m here to ask for a favor,” he began. “There is a person most interested in joining your ranks. She could prove useful in understanding the latest disease coming from Falaine. She should arrive within the next few days, and I promised her she would at least be given an opportunity to demonstrate her talents.”

A faintly condescending glint passed through Fabian’s eyes as his lips tightened. Unlike witches, the fairies allowed men to serve among them, and Fabian was the oldest still serving in the king’s court. He had arrived there after being taken on as an apprentice by a fairy. His protector had found him searching for scraps behind a tavern and, out of compassion, trained him in the craft of potion-making. It was said Fabian had shown remarkable dedication in learning every corner of the craft, and what he lacked in talent he made up for with an almost heroic refusal to surrender his opportunity to become someone of importance. His most notorious talent was not in magic, however, but in remaining in the same post for over six years. It was plain that all those years of authority had carved into him a rather inflated opinion of his own judgment, a condition he appeared to maintain with admirable dedication.

“None of the people here were simply ‘promised’ anything, Your Grace,” Fabian stated wearily. “Besides, why would she be of any use with the illness from Falaine, might I ask?”

Kurt knew the unfortunate detail of Elise being a Falaine citizen could affect the appreciation of her talents, though more often than not people from the enemy territory were employed in all sorts of affairs precisely to better understand the other kingdom. He hoped this might prove one of those cases.

“She’s from Falaine,” Kurt said. “And she’s a witch.”

“Ah!” Fabian huffed. “A Falaine witch? If she’s from the other side, she had better be good.”

“She is being taken under the ward of a witch from Bromheim,” Kurt replied dryly.

“But she’s from enemy territory!”

“You know there are no witches in Falaine,” Kurt replied, meeting the inquisitive eyes of the fairy. “If she is indeed a witch with any power over magic, she could only have obtained it after becoming the ward of a Bromheim citizen. A witch, yes, but a citizen no less.”

Fabian shook his head as though the mere idea of Elise had already become inconvenient to him. “Let her come. But I do not hand favors to recommended people.”

Kurt had a bad feeling about the entire matter. However, he refused to invite someone to the castle only for her to be dismissed without a proper opportunity to prove herself. Knowing how finicky the fairy could be, he decided he would need to make another stop with someone more sensible in matters of strategy and warfare: the Chancellor of Magic, Susanne. If Kurt managed to catch the old fairy somewhere within the castle, it was almost certain she could be persuaded to use her influence to help Elise when the time came.

“I appreciate it,” Kurt said meekly before taking his leave.

“What’s the name of this witch you seem so determined to help?” Fabian asked, not without suspicion.

“Elise,” Kurt whispered, and a warmth settled beneath his ribs. “Elise de Varenne.”

Chapter 19

Elise followed Morgaine to the potion chamber, where the witch was about to show her the famed artifact she claimed would help them communicate once Elise departed for the castle.

“Everyone there is a fairy, and you must know witches and fairies are natural enemies,” Morgaine muttered.

“Why is that?” Elise’s brow furrowed.

Morgaine moved a few scrolls and dusted herbs from a shelf. Still reaching far behind it, she began explaining the reason for the animosity between magical beings.

“It’s called resentment,” Morgaine rasped. “It all started two hundred years ago when fairies began spreading the rumor that witches were a force of evil. They’ve been jealous ever since, seeing as the source of their magic has never produced a specimen as powerful as the strongest witch. They claim to follow the ancient scripts of how magic should be handled, while witches are merely improvisers.” Morgaine turned to Elise. “But you tell me, dear, what does any of that matter when a witch’s process lets you feel magic flowing through you like hot blood? Why should it matter who follows a book best or whose craft is oldest when the manifestation of magic speaks for itself?”

Elise nodded, unable to argue with what she had not the faintest understanding of.

“So witches are more powerful than fairies, and fairies are jealous, then,” was all she replied.

“Exactly!” Morgaine declared passionately. “Aha!” The witch snatched up a small pouch.

“What is that?”

“This, my darling, is one of my most valuable possessions. It almost ended up in the hands of a fairy, but I tricked her into believing it was a creation from the infernal realms. Once you mention the lower folk to them, you’ll find there is very little they care to investigate further. At any rate, I made them do what was right. I truly cannot imagine a more appropriate keeper for the Mirror of Daimor.”

“The Mirror of Daimor?”

Elise caught a familiar sparkle she remembered from the procession as Morgaine took a small oval mirror framed in thick gold from the emerald velvet pouch. The glass was no bigger than a thumb, and Morgaine handled it with the care one might reserve for a newborn child.

The witch pulled over a stool and sat with a wide grin. “This beauty has multiple uses, and the best part is that it comes in two.” Morgaine took another small mirror from the velvety pouch. “One for you and one for me,” she said as she handed one to Elise.

“How does it work?” Elise asked, admiring the small artifact.

“Just call me whenever you need me, but make sure to be alone. The mirror is too powerful, and in the presence of more than a few people, its function changes to revealing wickedness. It basically allows me to sense evil in others. It’s an ancient thing that goes deeper than any layer of social refinement centuries of civilization may have piled on top of people. It reaches for the true nature beneath it all, and the mirror turns dark if deceit or a rotten heart is involved.”