Black Blood

Her words confused me and made me feel somewhere that my future was as dark as my past.

The woman walks away from the counter, further into the back room. The room is darker, to the point where I can barely see her. I haven’t paid for my things yet so it doesn’t seem like the right time to leave. I don’t say anything, I just wait.

My eyes glide over the small bits I can see of the dark back room. The woman has disappeared from my sight. The back room seems to be filled with new jars. Somewhere in the distance I see a few books hidden in the cupboards. The spines of the books with the titles are unreadable in this distance.

I am sure that the books in those cupboards contain a completely different content to the books in the castle. Spells, herbs, other creatures, everything was forbidden. Only the history of the mages, the castle and benign spells were to be found in a once richly stocked library.

Her words play through my head. She saw my future, but said nothing about it. Her words hinted that my future would not be entirely rosy. Her look told me enough to see that things are going to happen that I would rather escape. The downside to the future is that it is fixed, no matter what I try there is no other way. Somehow that thought scares me but at the same time it calms me. If your future is fixed, there is nothing to worry about, it is not as if you have another choice.

We think that we have our future in our own hands, and it is partly true. Our future is partly determined by our own choices, partly by the choices of others and partly by situations that come our way. A conjunction of those events make your future.

As soon as I start to think that the woman is not going to return from the back room, she appears from the darkness. In her hands she holds a dark brown book. The cover appears to be made of little more than leather holding papers bound together with string. The spine of the book holds itself together by a black rope that seems to be expertly tied by hand. The cover seems to have no name, the book looks untouched.

The woman stops at the desk and puts the book in front of me. My thoughts are confirmed when I look more closely at the book, it is untouched and new. The woman’s gaze pins itself into mine as soon as I take my eyes off the book. Her expressive eyes have a little twinkle that I would describe as enthusiasm. Her hands lie next to the book on the counter and slide slowly over the wood.

‘This book is for you. It is new and unused. I want to ask you to use it as a spell book. Anything you learn for yourself about herbs, flowers, magic and the like you may write on this paper. Many books and magic have been lost over the years through the actions of the king and we are now at the dawn of a new era. I believe that you are a part of that new era and will gather much new information in your journey. Beware, all that is written can be seen. Be careful what magic you practice and what you write down, you never know in what hands it may end up.’ The woman’s hands come to rest on the cover of the book, pushing it in my direction. Astonished, I look at the papers bound together.

I have said it before and I will say it again, I don’t understand why strangers help me. I don’t need to put the reason into words, I’ve done that often enough, but every time I’m surprised and I don’t understand.

‘Why?’ is the first question I ask. The woman leaves her hands on the book while she looks straight at me.

‘Have you ever heard of the witch in black?’ she asks. I shake my head. She takes a step back, further into the darkness again. Her feet take her to a cupboard where I can vaguely see its contents. There are books there that look like the ones she gives me. She takes a book from the cabinet and makes her way back in my direction. She puts the book on the counter on top of the other and flips it open.

Handwritten cursive letters play across the paper. There are little drawings in the corners. At the top of the page is the title the black witch.

‘It is an old folk tale that once originated with the Nymphs. Our world has not known peace for a long time, then there are stories of hope and possible salvation.’ Her finger slides to the centre of the page.

‘She who is broken shall bind up the world after more breakings.' I have to read the sentence over several times before I understand what it says. This woman wants to claim that I am written in an old folk tale and that the reason is that strangers help me. That is just as ridiculous as it sounds. I am not a peacemaker, don’t even have the intention. Yes Night riders are the ones who are supposed to keep the peace, but that is not what this folktale says.

‘I do not want to disappoint you, but this is not me. I do not have the goal of making the world a better place or making peace. I hope for peace and a better world, but it is not my calling to create it.’ I expect to see disappointment in the woman’s eyes, but there is no emotion visible. She closes the book with the folktale.

‘One believes what he or she wants to believe in times like these. Folk tales are often nonsense, some come true and others are just a holdover in dark times. Time will tell what the outcome of this story is. For now, it is a welcome tool for you.’ She takes the book back from the desk, walks to the back and puts it back in the cupboard.

The woman comes back to stand behind the counter. She picks up the empty book and turns it towards herself. She flips it open on one of the last pages. Further down the desk is a pen in a jar of ink. She takes the white feather out of the jar, taps off the excess ink and puts the tip of the pen to the paper. I follow the movement of her hand with interest as she begins to write something down.

Extract of cuckoo, she says at the top of the page. I don’t ask or say anything while she starts writing out a recipe. She starts writing down ingredients that I have not heard the name of before. Some ingredients appear that are obvious like water and fire but most are unknown to me. Her hand makes such graceful movements over the paper that I catch myself staring at the woman.

She comes to the end of the page, removes the pen from the paper and puts it back in ink. She turns the book in my direction so that the letters are now in the right order for me. My eyes glide over the curling letters at lightning speed. As I noted earlier, I can make little sense of the unfamiliar ingredients list for an extract for which I have no idea what it is used for.

‘I would like to ask you to find these ingredients, collect them and bring them to me at about the same time tomorrow. I will teach you how to make this extract and what you can use it for.’ Surprised, I look at the woman for her kind offer. Although I have no idea what most of the ingredients are and certainly not where I would find them, I am eager to learn. I want to learn more about how to work with herbs and flowers and what other magic I can use. This woman seems to know so much that it is an offer I simply cannot refuse. I nod slowly. The woman smiles and closes the book. She pushes it closer to me and puts the bags of herbs and flowers on the book.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she replies. I would almost take the book and the sachets without paying, but I shake my head.

‘What do I owe you?’ I ask her as I begin to search for the money in my purse. She shakes her head.

‘Your attention tomorrow, you owe me that,’ she replies. Again I look at her in surprise.

‘I want to pay you,’ I insist. In the castle, the family didn’t pay for anything. I don’t want to be part of that family anymore and find my own way. I want to be part of the ‘normal’ world and that includes paying.

‘Don’t pay me with coins, pay me with stories, they are worth much more. Next time we see each other, tell me about the magic of the Night Riders and the dragons.’ I would have argued with her if she had not looked at me with such unwavering delight. There seems to be no way I could change the woman’s mind so I accept her proposal.

‘Thank you,’ I reply. She nods approvingly. I take the things from the counter and place them in the bag I brought.

‘See you tomorrow,’ she says woman.

‘See you tomorrow,’ I agree with her before walking out of the shop.