The Last Witch

As the cart approached the house again, Asher noticed one of Dalvany Manor’s carriages sitting on the other side of the fence-line. The same onion shaped vehicle with its gold lining along the edges and two black stallions was the same he had arrived at Dalvany in what felt like a lifetime ago. With Navarre. The memory of his sly little winks flashed through Asher’s head, and that familiar punch in the gut hit him all over again. 

As he struggled down off the cart, Gershwin rushed through helping him, less gentle than she was before. Asher didn’t blame her anxiety. Aria had been terrified of him, and he could only imagine the stress Evelyn could cause. Yet, as he hobbled up the stairs and into the house, he entered the kitchen and came face to face with Norrah instead. 

She was noticeably more dishevelled than when he had seen her last. Her dress wrinkled and a more drab cotton, with the only finery showing in the fur around the collar of her coat. Even her black hair had an unwashed darkness to it, stray strands sticking out of the bun. Dark shadows clouded her eyes, and she stared at Asher with a blank expression, as though she was staring through him, unaware that he was even there. 

Gershwin rushed over to Aria on the other side of the room, who had huddled in on herself in the corner. 

‘When I read about you being here, I wondered if it was a mistake,’ Norrah said. ‘Though I admit, I perhaps shouldn’t have ignored an urgently marked letter.’

‘I guess you’ve been busy,’ Asher pointed out. 

‘That’s an understatement,’ Norrah said. She paused, and a flash of vulnerability appeared for a second, reminding Asher that she was barely past her twenty-sixth year. Younger than she tried to be. ‘Are you well?’

Asher motioned to the twin canes holding him up, and the bandaged sock still around his foot. ‘Considering everything, I’m doing okay.’

‘You’re standing,’ Norrah commented. ‘Better than I can say for a few others that reappeared.’

 ‘The doctor said there were a lot in town,’ Asher pointed out. 

Norrah nodded. ‘Whatever infection is claiming them is only getting worse. I don’t know the full details, I’m not a doctor, but it’s bad.’

Gershwin made a small noise in the corner, and Norrah turned to the two women, making Aria flinch back. Colour flushed through Gershwin’s face. 

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt. I mean...’

‘This is your house,’ Norrah said. ‘You can speak freely. I don’t want you to be afraid of me.’

‘Well, it’s a little intimidating to have the Duchess standing in our kitchen,’ Gershwin said. When Norrah didn’t respond, Gershwin cleared her throat. ‘We treated the injuries as though they were poisoned,’ she said. ‘It wasn’t showing the usual signs of an infection. I don’t really know what it was, but I was using common antidotes.’

‘That worked?’ Norrah asked. ‘I’m surprised the doctor didn’t know that.’

‘I um... I used to be an apothecary,’ Gershwin said. ‘I did tell him what I was doing, but I... oh, I should have written it down. I will write it down actually.’

‘I’d appreciate that,’ Norrah said. ‘Though some were treated with what they have on hand, so I’m not sure how effective it would be.’

‘Different symptoms?’ Asher asked. ‘That’s odd.’

‘I don’t know what’s happening,’ Norrah said. ‘It all looks similar. It looks like it came from the same source, but some can be cured with basic balms, and others with other herbal mixes, and some need constant care. It’s very confusing.’

Gershwin pulled one of the spare shipping cards from Aria’s pile on the table and began scratching down a list in sharp, fine and curling handwriting. 

‘I’m surprised you aren’t in town helping,’ Norrah said. ‘We could use the extra hands.’

Gershwin paused mid pen-stroke, and a blob of ink smudged the paper. ‘I wish I could,’ she mumbled. ‘But my name is on the Black Scroll.’

A cold dread ran down the length of Asher’s spine. Aria shifted next to her, and Gershwin stilled for a moment longer, then kept writing. She didn’t meet anyone’s eye, not even when she finished it and passed it over to Norrah. Asher couldn’t see it. The Black Scroll had always been more of an idea or historical footnote more than anything binding. In Ralkauda, there were maybe three names recorded in the last century. They had been a filicide, a four time murderer, and a man who had attempted to assassinate the King. 

‘I’m afraid I don’t understand,’ Norrah said. 

‘It means she’s been exiled,’ Asher kept his voice low. ‘If she tries to enter Dalvany town, she’ll be shot on sight.’

Asher could only come to one conclusion as to why Gershwin would be on a list like that. He’d heard a single case in Fanmaryh that made sense. The town had tried her as a witch. They’d pointed their fingers and she’d been proven innocent, but was made to leave to regain the public trust. A wave of sympathy washed over him, and Gershwin met his gaze as it did. Anger flashed across her features, and was gone as quickly as it appeared. 

‘That is archaic.’ Norrah’s voice was a growl. ‘I’ll work to do something about that. If I’m supposed to be in charge, I will not have people who want to help kept back by something as pathetic as “exile.” Do you want to help?’

‘I would if I could,’ Gershwin said, ‘but--’

‘Do you wish harm on anyone in town?’

‘Of course not!’

‘I think between that and all you’ve done for the Lieutenant, I will have to assess what gave you this status and why it is in place, when you have a judicial system in this kingdom. We need the extra help, so if you can find a way into town, I will make it clear it’s on my orders.’

‘I appreciate that, ma’am.’ Gershwin flinched as Aria grabbed her arm. ‘But I wouldn’t feel safe. I can make up some balms and poultices here if that would help?’

‘I’ll bring them into town,’ Aria spoke up then. ‘We have a trade route. We can... I mean, I can bring them into the town as you need them. It’s only a couple of hours either way.’

Norrah nodded. ‘I would consider that immensely helpful.’

Gershwin nodded. She still wouldn’t meet anyone’s eye. 

‘I could use you back too, Lieutenant.’ Norrah turned back to him. ‘If you are well enough to travel.’

‘I want to help too,’ Asher admitted. ‘Though I don’t know how much of my original job I can still do.’

Norrah sighed, betraying just how exhausted she was under her usual stoic features. ‘This won’t be over in a couple of days,’ she said. ‘So we really could use you.’ She paused. ‘So many of the others didn’t know what happened. It seems to be a point of delirium. What people do remember differs compared to each victim. I don’t suppose you’ve remembered anything?’

Asher shook his head. ‘Delirium is a good word for it.’

‘We did what we could,’ Gershwin said. ‘But the fever still lasted for days. He was lucky to pull out of it at all.’

Norrah nodded. ‘That seems to be the case, though I had to be sure.’ She straightened. ‘I will give you time to do what you need here. When you are ready, we’ll travel back into town.’ She turned to both of the women and bowed low, her gaze unblinking. ‘You’ve done a thankless task in the battle against this plague. Thank you for what you have done, and what you will continue to do.’

Asher stayed silent as she made for the hall, and he bit down on his tongue until the unmistakable sound of the door closing echoed through the house. Aria breathed a heavy sigh of relief. 

‘The Duchess,’ her voice squeaked out. ‘That was the new Duchess in our house. The one who came from Euthria, right?’

Asher nodded. 

‘I... I thought you were a Lieutenant?’

‘I am,’ Asher said. ‘We’re... um... technically cousins. I think? It’s a long story.’

Aria shivered. 

‘I’m not going to tell anyone,’ Asher pressed. ‘Not about any of this. I swear. I have just as much risk of being accused as you, so if you don’t believe me, you know that--’

‘She didn’t do anything!’ Aria burst out. 

Asher froze. Gershwin reached over to take her hand, but Aria pulled away. 

‘The exile doesn’t mean anything!’ Aria snapped. ‘She didn’t do anything wrong!’

‘Easy, love,’ Gershwin’s voice was low and calm in comparison. She sighed. ‘What my ever-loyal wife is trying to say is that I’m not a monster. I mean... it’s not as bad as it sounds.’

‘You were tried for witchcraft, weren’t you?’ Asher asked. 

Gershwin flinched. She then nodded. ‘You need to be careful, Asher. Please. I don’t want you facing any of that nonsense. Promise?’

Asher nodded. ‘I promise.’

‘Good.’ Gershwin flattened down her apron. ‘Let’s not dwell on it too much, okay? Oh, I hope it hasn’t tarnished your opinion of me.’

‘Not possible,’ Asher said. ‘I owe you. Both of you. Thank you for everything you’ve done.’

‘You take care of yourself, sweetie,’ Gershwin said. 

‘If you can find out why the spirits are so upset, that’s more than enough for us,’ Aria said. ‘But please try and be careful.’

Gershwin rushed forward then and pulled him into a tight hug, wrapping her bony arms around his shoulders and squeezing tight. ‘If you need anything, just ask, okay? You know where we are.’

‘You’ve done so much already.’ Asher’s voice was muffled by her shoulder. He tried to return the hug, but he couldn’t lift his arms without risking the balance on his cane. 

‘Just don’t be a stranger,’ Gershwin said. She pulled away. ‘Besides, I’d much rather you come and ask us about magic than have you stick your hand in something and hurt yourself.’

‘I promise not to poke any monsters,’ Asher said. ‘And I don’t think you’re a monster.’

‘Want to hear the ironic part?’ Gershwin said. ‘The herbs I used on that magistrate were just that. He didn’t even know what they were. I hadn’t used witchcraft at all, not on him or... for a while actually.’

She gave a sad smile, and Asher forced himself to mimic the motion. He would need help going forward with this, even if seeing spirits gave him an advantage, but he did need to be careful. No-one who could help him would readily admit to a Watchmen that they were dabbling in the illegal, but it was clear also that he wasn’t the only one at risk if he wanted to dig deeper.