Page 30 of The Mirror of Beasts

“The old bag can’t be bothered to come up and give it to me herself, I see,” the new arrival said, enjoying our reaction to the name old bag. She eyed each of us in turn, her face streaked with soil, as if she’d been gardening under the cold moonlight.

At last, she turned toward the bar and shouted down, “The whole list?”

“Yes, you withered bat,” the Bonecutter called back. “I even strung the protective wards from the temple on Delos for you, not that you’ll pay me for my time!”

“That it?” the woman asked, crooking a finger at me.

I handed it over, watching as she rummaged through the bag, nodding as she silently counted the items inside. Reaching into the inner pocket of her cloak, she retrieved a bundle of dried herbs. They had a sweet, floral scent, but I held them by the tips of their stems anyway, not letting any other part of the plants touch my skin or clothes. You never really knew with this kind of thing—it could just as easily be the starter for poison as a relaxing salt mix for the bath.

“Are you a sorceress?” Neve asked, unable to keep the note of eagerness out of her voice.

“Did the mystical aura give it away, or was it the wart on my nose?” the woman shot back. “Yes, child. Much to the Sistren’s chagrin, I was once called the Sorceress Hemlock.”

I opened the archive of my mind and sorted through it until I found the pieces of her story and began to assemble them. Her swift, glorious rise among the ranks of sorceresses to vie for High Sorceress … and an even swifter inglorious fall.

I snapped my finger, pointing at her. “The Mouse Shepherdess.”

Neve whirled around, horrified. “Tamsin!”

“It’s all right,” Hemlock said with a deep chuckle, folding the bag’s opening over. “I’ve been called worse for some of my ideas, and pushing for the Cunningfolk to have a voice on the Council of Sistren is one I take pride in. As good a reason as any to be expelled. The problem with being before your time is that you almost never get to see the moment you transform from fool to hero in others’ eyes.”

“You were expelled from the Council?” Neve asked, shocked. “For that?”

“Are you one of the Sistren?” Hemlock asked Neve. “You seem a bit too free-spirited for it, I must say. Unless they no longer seek to crush their maidens into the same mold.”

“I’m self-taught,” Neve admitted.

“Ah, no provable bloodline, or were they merely feeling especially callous that day?” Hemlock asked.

Neve toyed with the end of one of her braids. “The first.”

“Well, you’ll be better for it,” Hemlock told her, with surprising sympathy.

“What do you mean?” Olwen asked, curious.

“Only that her learning won’t be limited to what they wish her to know,” Hemlock said. “Breaking away from their rigid system of sigils allows for the Goddess to manifest more strongly in our intuition, allowing new depths of power to be discovered.”

Neve’s expression sharpened with interest. I knew she was thinking of the light, and the way the sorceresses had reacted. “You really believe so?”

“I know so,” Hemlock said. “That’s why the priestesses of Avalon called upon magic in whatever way innately spoke to them—forgive me, I’m telling you what you already know, aren’t I?”

Olwen smiled sadly.

“Even I get the occasional scrap of gossip thrown to me when it’s juicy enough,” Hemlock said. “Terrible trouble you’ve found yourselves in, my girls. Enough to win yourselves your own unflattering nickname.”

It seemed we were all too tired and heartsick to explain ourselves again.

“Lord Death is hunting sorceresses,” Neve said. “Wouldn’t it be safer to see if you can rejoin the others?”

“I’ll be damned before I leave the house I’ve built with my own two hands,” Hemlock said. “I’ll fight to defend it with whatever breath I’ve left in my body.”

She held up the bag from the Bonecutter to emphasize her point.

“Then you’ll die,” Caitriona told her plainly. Leaning a hip against the bar, she crossed her arms over her chest.

“So I will,” Hemlock said, turning toward the door. “Tell that fawn-faced ninny to burn my body when it happens.”

“Don’t say that,” Neve said. “You can still go to your sisters. They need your help as much as you need theirs.”

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