chops. However, the two sisters didn’t have many extra pennies either…which was why she tended to send Amelie to the village market. It was cowardly and she knew it, but Amelie was much better at holding firm.
Céline also knew that even while just scraping by, she and Amelie lived better than almost anyone in Shetâna. But they also lived slightly apart from everyone else as well. Their little shop, with the bedroom upstairs, had been built just outside the village as if it didn’t quite belong with the other shops and dwellings. She and Amelie had always felt that way about themselves, too. Though their father had grown up in Shetâna, their mother, Eleanor, had come from someplace else, which she never spoke of. He’d been one of the village hunters, and apparently, after an extended hunt one year, he’d come back with a bride—and he’d promptly built her an apothecary’s shop and home for them to share. Eleanor could read and write, and she arrived with her own texts and scrolls on herb lore. She made certain both her girls were literate, although Céline had taken more willingly to scholarly pursuits.
As a result, both Céline and Amelie spoke differentlythan the villagers of Shetâna, saw the world a little differently, and sometimes used words no one else could understand. This set them apart.
Still, people came from nearby townships and villages just to see Céline, the seer, and have their futures read. Her reputation had spread as far north as the Vudrask River.
To count further blessings, their shop was warm, with a decent hearth, and although they had no front counter, the main room did boast several sturdy tables, and the walls were lined with shelves containing countless numbers of pots and jars.
Their little establishment looked the part.
The Lavender and Thyme apothecary shop was quite respectable—and Céline was proud of it.
Still humming, she was just about to head into the storage room for the marshmallow leaves when the sound of hoofbeats outside made her pause and half turn. The hoofbeats stopped, and then she heard booted feet landing with a squishing sound in the mud just in front of her shop. Who could that be?
Before she could wonder a moment longer, the door slammed open, and she froze in her tracks. Captain Kochè filled the open doorway with his wet tabard dripping water onto the floor. He looked at her, and his eyes moved up and down, just as they always did when he got within tenpaces of her. He was revolting: tall but with a protruding belly, greasy hair, and a stringy mustache that stretched all the way down past his chin.
Céline, on the other hand, had learned from her mother that it was necessary for a successful seer to also look the part. She wore her mother’s red velvet gown a good deal of the time, and it fit her slight body snugly. Her mass of dark blond curls hung to the small of her back, and both she and Amelie had inherited their mother’s lavender eyes. Céline was well aware that in almost any circle, she’d be considered at least moderately pretty, but here in Shetâna, any girl with a halfway clean face and all of her teeth was viewed as a beauty.
It was rather tiresome.
The captain licked his lower lip, and Céline drew herself up to full height—which was still slightly shorter than the average woman.
“Can I help you?” she asked, pitching her tone to suggest she’d rather do anything than help him. She had no idea what he wanted. The shop’s taxes were paid in full, and Sub-Prince Damek never paid an ounce of attention to Shetâna unless someone owed him money or he’d decided to have someone punished for insolence. The state of the roads was criminal, but no one here complained to him anymore.
“No, my dear,” said a voice from behind the captain, “but you can assist me.”
Kochè stepped aside, and a bent figure hobbled inside past him. One gnarled hand came up to push back the hood of a cloak, revealing the wrinkled face of an
Céline also knew that even while just scraping by, she and Amelie lived better than almost anyone in Shetâna. But they also lived slightly apart from everyone else as well. Their little shop, with the bedroom upstairs, had been built just outside the village as if it didn’t quite belong with the other shops and dwellings. She and Amelie had always felt that way about themselves, too. Though their father had grown up in Shetâna, their mother, Eleanor, had come from someplace else, which she never spoke of. He’d been one of the village hunters, and apparently, after an extended hunt one year, he’d come back with a bride—and he’d promptly built her an apothecary’s shop and home for them to share. Eleanor could read and write, and she arrived with her own texts and scrolls on herb lore. She made certain both her girls were literate, although Céline had taken more willingly to scholarly pursuits.
As a result, both Céline and Amelie spoke differentlythan the villagers of Shetâna, saw the world a little differently, and sometimes used words no one else could understand. This set them apart.
Still, people came from nearby townships and villages just to see Céline, the seer, and have their futures read. Her reputation had spread as far north as the Vudrask River.
To count further blessings, their shop was warm, with a decent hearth, and although they had no front counter, the main room did boast several sturdy tables, and the walls were lined with shelves containing countless numbers of pots and jars.
Their little establishment looked the part.
The Lavender and Thyme apothecary shop was quite respectable—and Céline was proud of it.
Still humming, she was just about to head into the storage room for the marshmallow leaves when the sound of hoofbeats outside made her pause and half turn. The hoofbeats stopped, and then she heard booted feet landing with a squishing sound in the mud just in front of her shop. Who could that be?
Before she could wonder a moment longer, the door slammed open, and she froze in her tracks. Captain Kochè filled the open doorway with his wet tabard dripping water onto the floor. He looked at her, and his eyes moved up and down, just as they always did when he got within tenpaces of her. He was revolting: tall but with a protruding belly, greasy hair, and a stringy mustache that stretched all the way down past his chin.
Céline, on the other hand, had learned from her mother that it was necessary for a successful seer to also look the part. She wore her mother’s red velvet gown a good deal of the time, and it fit her slight body snugly. Her mass of dark blond curls hung to the small of her back, and both she and Amelie had inherited their mother’s lavender eyes. Céline was well aware that in almost any circle, she’d be considered at least moderately pretty, but here in Shetâna, any girl with a halfway clean face and all of her teeth was viewed as a beauty.
It was rather tiresome.
The captain licked his lower lip, and Céline drew herself up to full height—which was still slightly shorter than the average woman.
“Can I help you?” she asked, pitching her tone to suggest she’d rather do anything than help him. She had no idea what he wanted. The shop’s taxes were paid in full, and Sub-Prince Damek never paid an ounce of attention to Shetâna unless someone owed him money or he’d decided to have someone punished for insolence. The state of the roads was criminal, but no one here complained to him anymore.
“No, my dear,” said a voice from behind the captain, “but you can assist me.”
Kochè stepped aside, and a bent figure hobbled inside past him. One gnarled hand came up to push back the hood of a cloak, revealing the wrinkled face of an
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