Page 16 of The Faerie Morgana
Morgana leaned forward for another look at the black and white stones. She answered in a voice that was even, but not without sympathy. “He will, for now. That is all I can see.” When the woman covered her mouth to stifle a sob, Morgana added, “I wish you courage, grandmother, and patience. Come back if his affliction returns.”
When the women had left and the stones had been scooped back into their leather cup, Morgana gestured to the younger one still waiting on the bench. The girl rose with the grace of youth, inclining her head to Morgana, casting a curious glance at Braithe. Morgana said, “What is it you ask of the Lady?”
The girl was even younger than she had first seemed, with plump, smooth cheeks that flushed pink under Morgana’s regard. “I need a love charm.”
Morgana leaned back in her chair. “Indeed?”
The girl stepped closer, one hand on the purse at her waist, the other smoothing back a wisp of mud-brown hair. “There’s a man,” the girl said.
“What is your name, child?”
“I’m called Oona.”
“So, Oona. There is a man, and you want him.”
“It’s not that I want him,” the girl said. The red of her cheeks intensified, but she pressed on. “I’m indifferent to him. He is plain and dull and…” She shrugged.
Morgana’s dark brows rose. “Yet you desire a love charm?”
“If this man does not marry me, my father will make me wed a Roman.”
Morgana, one hand on the sigil at her breast, tilted her head, intrigued.
“A Roman? Why would he do that? I thought the Romans were our enemies. Are they not constantly attacking the borders of Lloegyr?”
“They are, Priestess, and my father thinks if he allies himself with the Romans he will be protected. The Roman means toentrench his cohort on my father’s lands, and to strengthen his hold over my father by marrying me.” In a lower voice, she said, “I hate the Romans. Their gods are strange and cruel, and they keep slaves.”
“It seems a drastic step to avoid an unwanted marriage.”
“Priestess, perhaps you don’t know how it is for women beyond the Isle.”
“Perhaps I do not. Explain it to me.”
“I would like very much to live as you do, to study herbal arts, to live with women, to worship the Lady. But I am my father’s property. I am an asset, like a cow or a sheep, to dispose of as he wishes. When he dowers me, I will become my husband’s property. Since there is no alternative to that, I decided to choose my husband myself.”
“And your father will allow this, Oona?”
“If the man I mean to marry acts quickly, before the Roman makes his offer, he will.”
Morgana said thoughtfully, “This is possible, but you must realize there is always a cost.”
“I brought money.”
“This price cannot be paid with money.” Morgana shifted forward in her chair and picked up the cup of divining stones. “There is a consequence for interfering with the natural way of things. You may not face it immediately, but one day, in some way, you will.”
Oona cried, “But I will die if I have to marry a Roman!”
“Hmmm. Before you despair, let us see what the Lady tells us.” Morgana shook the cup, then upended it, scattering thestones across the altar. They shone there, rivulets and swirls of black and white. She gazed down at them, narrowing her eyes.
Oona said, “You see it, don’t you? You see how terrible it would be!”
Braithe murmured, “Hush, child,” though the girl was older than she. “Let the priestess work.”
Morgana flicked Braithe a glance, then returned her gaze to the stones. She drew a long breath and sighed it slowly out through pursed lips, her habit when she was scrying. When the girl drew breath to speak again, Braithe put her finger to her lips to silence her. Only the faint hiss of the candle disturbed the silence in the chamber.
At length, Morgana straightened and looked into the face of her petitioner. “I will make your charm. Braithe will tell you how to use it.”
Oona’s face brightened. She undid the purse from her girdle and laid it on the altar. “And your divination? What did you see?”
