The Valcourt Heiress (Medieval Song 7)
“I want you to turn around now and walk back to the cot and sit down. Do you understand?”
Merry slowly lowered her arm to her side. She could move just as she could always move, but it was odd, she felt something vaguely cold lift from her. She wanted to scream, but she didn’t. She walked back and sat down on the edge of the cot. She said nothing, she was simply too afraid. She looked over at her mother, still standing at the window. Do not show fear, do not show fear. “That was very impressive, madam. What will you do next if I disagree with you? Make my tongue split apart?”
“Who knows? I gave you but a taste of a simple spell. I learned it years ago.”
Merry wished in that moment she could do that spell, that she could whisper strange words or flick her fingers and her mother would be held motionless for a hundred years. Maybe longer.
“Why do you hate me?”
A perfect brow arched upward. “Hate you? I do not hate you.”
“You left me and Father.”
“I had work to do, work more important than any earthly husband or babe. I took over Meizerling within that first year, and it brought me infinite freedom to do exactly as I wished. But now I need more silver, much more, so that I may do truly great things. And I thought of you, the heiress of Valcourt. Sometimes, I will admit it is possible to hate one’s tools. But I do not hate you.”
She was a tool? “Why do you need more silver? Do you want to buy France?” She managed a sneer at her mother’s silence. “You are such a powerful witch, why do you not simply conjure up all the silver you wish?” And she snapped her fingers just as her mother had. “Why must you have that idiot Jason of Brennan try to steal it for you?”
Her mother looked down at the book, and her lips moved. Was she reading a spell? When she looked up, she said easily, “Your ignorance is appalling, but how could it be otherwise? Your father wouldn’t have told you about my special abilities, he wouldn’t have told you anything at all. So, that means you do not know that magick is an odd science, giving unexpected insights and producing surprising results, some that even I cannot foresee or predict.
“Aye, in the right hands, magick can manipulate the human brain, can stop the human heart, can freeze the body itself, as you now know, but unfortunately, no matter whose powerful hands mix together what metals, magick will not allow silver to come forth. But I doubt not there will be those alchemists who will continue to search for a magick formula to turn metal into silver, for most of them will be men, and men forever dream.”
“Have you tried to make silver?”
“Aye, once. I realized it was impossible almost immediately. You see, there was no feel of otherness in it, no scent of the miraculous hidden deep. Let the years pass and let the men dream their foolish dreams.”
“With all the silver you say you need, what is it you wish to do that you cannot do now?”
Her mother gently laid the old book down on the table. She ignored Merry and began to pace again, from the window to the door and back again, her stride smooth and long and young. She was treading upon a brilliant blue carpet covered with myriad strange symbols in black. What did those symbols mean, if anything, Merry wondered.
Merry asked her, “That carpet, where did it come from?”
“This carpet? Is it not beautiful? It was given to me by a special friend who came to manhood in that strange black forest that lies east of France. He wanted to command the wild beasts that roamed there, to make them all his minions. He wanted to explore the dark shadowed caves filled with fires that burn ice, or so he told me.” She shrugged. “Alas, he is no more. And in all the years that carpet has lain on these stones, it has never gathered dust, and never aged.”
Merry didn’t want to understand any of this, particularly fire that burned ice, but she couldn’t help herself. “What are the symbols on it?”
“They are a secret language from ancient Bulgar, Rostram told me one night when he had drunk too much of my special wine. It is a language that could, if interpreted correctly, grant more power than any mortal has ever known. I will admit I have not managed to unlock its secrets, but I am young, there is time.”
“I am not like you, Mother. I do not wish people to fear me because I can blight them with a flick of my finger. I do not wish to spend my life mixing strange herbs together to see if the heavens quake. I want to marry Garron of Kersey. I wish to bear his babes and know life as his wife.”
Her mother studied one of her white hands. “Perhaps you will marry this man you find so exciting, eventually. First, however, you will wed Jason of Brennan. You must learn patience, Marianna.”
“No, I will not marry him. He is beyond evil.”
“Evil? He has not the brains to be evil. He is only a foolish young man who wants more than his father has. He is a braggart who believes himself smart and important, invincible. He is of little account, really, and even his own father, Lord Ranulf, must know by now. Jason will maul you, but it will be over quickly, and he will soon tire of you. If you bear a babe or several babes, it is not important. If Garron of Kersey still wants you when it is done, you will have him.”
Merry said, her voice steady, “I will not wed Jason of Brennan, Mother. I mean it.”
“So you will poison him then?” Her mother smiled down at her thumbnail.
“No, I will kill him straight and clean, and he will know why I am killing him.” She paused, just an instant. “Did you poison my father?”
She saw surprise in her mother’s eyes. “Poison your father? Why no, I did not. I much preferred to have him alive. He was a smart man, your father. He knew me well enough not to interfere in what I wished to do. He was also wise enough not to cheat me. He always sent me the exact promised funds over the years to keep me away from Valcourt, away from you, his little angel. But most important, he kept our secre
t, and made certain that all those at Valcourt who knew as well also kept silent.”
“Silent about what? What secret did my father keep for you?”
Her mother ignored her. “Actually, I was saddened when he died. Do you know, the last time I bedded him, I bit his shoulder so deep he bled. Then I licked him, and within minutes, the blood and the bite mark disappeared. He was terrified for weeks.” She laughed, still seeing the look of horror on Timothy’s face.