Page 79 of Crossroads Magic
Cure for gravid woman’s malaise.
My first thought was:How old is this spell?
But, as Benedict had said, women have always borne children, and dealt with the complications. It didn’t matter how old the spell was. It just had to work. And as I had learned from my mother’s journals, spells often didn’t work. They were nonsense dreamed up by imaginative fantasists. Or the ingredients couldn’t be substituted and the original ingredients were no longer available. Or the one who cast the spell did it wrong, or did not have sufficient power to bring the spell to life.
There was a lot that could go wrong.
I cast my eye over the list of ingredients.
Lock of mother’s hair.
Pinch of Cows Horn
Devil Plant
Dew of the Sea
Poor Man’s Treacle…
I slapped the book shut, dropped it to the floor and kicked it under the chair with my heel, hissing my irritation.
The door opened. Benedict came in, carrying a very modern-looking, small bottle of clear glass, with a scale up the side of it. A dropper was inside, and the cap had the rubber bulb to squeeze and extract the blue-green liquid inside.
“Go ahead,” I told him, my frustration making me curt.
He nodded and brushed past me, heading for Ghaliya’s room. Five minutes later, he returned. The bottle was empty.
“In thirty minutes, she should be able to drink and eat without problems,” he said.
I nodded.
Benedict dropped down beside my chair, so our eyes were level. “She’ll come through this.”
I nodded again.
He rested his hand on mine for a brief moment. I felt heat and softness, but it felt remote.
Then he went away.
?
Thirty minutes later, my cellphone informed me it was time to check on Ghaliya. I went upstairs.
Ghaliya lay on her back, her eyes closed. I could see no difference in her condition. I put my hand to her forehead, and found it was just as clammy as before.
I settled down next to her. “Ghaliya? Time to try eating something.”
She moaned. “God…no…” she whispered. Her throat worked.
“The medicine Benedict gave you should have kicked in by now. You won’t be sick again. Sit up. Come on…” I helped her sit up, and reached for the crackers once more and held one out to her.
Ghaliya opened one eye, and took the cracker. She held it in her fingertips. “I don’t feel any different.”
“Doesn’t mean it hasn’t worked. Go on, eat a bite.”
“The stuff he gave me. Tasted like curry.” She sniffed the cracker and wrinkled her nose. “That’s all I can smell now.”
“Ginger?” I asked. “That’s a well-known herb for dealing with nausea.” And that encouraged me. Some of the old waysweregood ways.
