Dark as Night, Red as Blood

Chapter One

"Anna! A wonderful thing, come quick!" Nathan, my little brother, came tearing into the backyard where I knelt conjuring in the herb beds.

"Nathan," I snapped, holding up one finger, "you must not disturb me at my work." I finished the charm I was working to ensure the fast growth of the mint and lavender, trying to ignore the little boy dancing impatiently from foot to foot. The rich smells of the herbs mixed in my nose and I inhaled deeply, feeling the tingle of magic in the air.

Finally, I glanced up at him and smiled. "Now you may tell me your great news."

He flung his arms around my neck and planted a sloppy kiss on my cheek. "But, Anna, it isn't my news!" He chirped. "It's yours!"

Rising swiftly, I swung my brother around until he was on my back. He squealed with glee. "Tell me then, little bird, what is this news?"

He clung tighter to my neck. "I will only tell you if you give me a ride around the lane, like a good pony." He put action to his words and kicked my sides fiercely with his little heels.

Swiftly, I flipped him off my back and caught him just before he tumbled to the ground. He giggled again. "I'll give you your ride once you give me my news!"

"No! I shan't tell." He pouted at me, and suddenly I lunged, tickling him until he cried.

Our games were cut short by my mother's shrill call.

"Annakie, Nathan, none of this nonsense! There's dinner to be got on the table. Both of you, get along inside and stop shaming the family."

Nathan gave me a look and rolled his eyes. I swatted his behind.

"We must do as Mother says. Don't be disrespectful."

He frowned for a minute, and then his face brightened impishly. "You still don't know the news!" He chanted as he ran off toward the house.

I took a minute to smooth my apron and straighten my lace cap before I followed him into the house. The smell of mutton roasting in rich juices filled my nose as soon as I crossed the threshold, and I snuck a look in the kettle over the stove. Sniffing critically, I could make out the scent of rosemary and dill, but there was another spice that I couldn't quite identify. I sniffed harder, knowing Mother would question me at the table, but the stew kept its secrets.

It seemed that Mother should have been so grateful to have a daughter in our house of men that she would pet me and spoil me, but if anything, she expected more from me than my three brothers and father put together. She was training me in her arts, and despite the magic that flowed in my blood, it was hard work learning from her.

While the other girls I knew only had to tend the flocks or the fields or the family, I had to do all that and practice spells and charms, to boot. Experience had taught me that if the food smelled different than usual, Mother was working a spell on the family.

That sounds so horrible, but I do not mean it in a devilish way at all. Mother's spells were to keep up safe and sound, and she would even share snatches of her wisdom around the village, for a price. Witching was her livelihood, and would be mine, one day, as well. Mother taught me to guard my magic tightly, not because of any sin, but because those who lived their lives without power were prone to jealousy. The village would tolerate a witch, she cautioned, as long as the witch were humble.

I replaced the heavy iron lid and turned away from the fire. Nathan was racing around the plank table, setting out the rough carved wooden bowls that my older brothers had made. I joined him, adding four tankards for ale. Although she brewed it, Mother never drank beer, and she forbade me from it as well, even though all people drank beer, even little children; it was safer than drinking water, especially during a pestilence. But Mother said spirits dulled the sight of the third eye, and she also said a foolish witch was one who allowed her senses to fail her.

She preferred ginger water, twice boiled and strained through cheesecloth before it was drunk. I despised it, and Nathan would sometimes let me sneak the rest of his weak ale when Mother turned away from the table. I didn't care about dulling my third eye: Mother was forever telling me that my talents were far less than they should be, anyway. What harm would a bit of beer do now and then?

"Set a seventh place, Nathan." Mother spoke softly, her back to us as she pulled fresh bread from the brick oven. Nathan jumped gleefully and winked at me.

Curious, I looked up from the table. "Who is joining us, Mother?"

She glanced over her shoulder and smiled wickedly. "You might know the answer to that if you hadn't been sneaking beer all week."

I glared at Nathan in accusation, but he shook his head and shrugged.

Mother set the bread on the bread board and handed it to me. "Take that to the table. You'll know the answer soon enough, Annakie."

Knowing I wouldn't get anything more out of her, I did as I was told. While I was pouring the beer, I felt her gaze upon me. I looked up, surprised to see sadness in her stern blue eyes. I opened my mouth to speak, but she turned away, crossing to the fire to stir the stew.

"Can you tell me what I have used to season the lamb?"

I stopped pouring and took a deep breath. "I smelled the dill and rosemary right away, but there is something else. Something I cannot name."

"Think harder. " Her voice was like a whiplash, so I closed my eyes and took another long sniff.

"It smells like," I paused, opening my eyes to look at her curiously. "It smells like cinnamon, but I know it can't be that."

She raised an eyebrow in question. "Why not?"

"Well, it's not a holiday, for one thing, and you would not waste your cinnamon bark for an everyday meal."

"Perhaps this is not an everyday meal," she spoke quietly.

I stared at her for a long moment. "If it is cinnamon, is it there for flavor or power?"

"What do you think?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. Flavor, perhaps, if this guest is worth impressing. Power if--" I trailed off, realizing the spell she was working.

"If?" She pressed, her eyes holding mine.

My heart froze. "If we are in grave danger."

She nodded once, curtly. Then she turned back to the fire, hefting the kettle off the spit and setting it on the hearth. "I will not play the game of what ifs with you, child. But your nose does not lie."

A chill danced down my spine. Nathan tugged on my hand with his sticky fingers, and I looked down at him, forcing a smile.

"I know who is coming. He isn't dangerous." His lips puckered as if he'd eaten sour fruit, and he glanced quickly at Mother. She kept her back to us as she prepared dinner.

"How can you know who is coming to visit? Mother wouldn't tell you." I ruffled his hair and looked out the window. Dusk had fallen while we set the table, and the small square of glass showed a landscape bathed in lavender.

Nathan tugged on my hand again, harder this time. "I saw him. I know that this man won't harm us." He scrunched up his nose. "At least, that's what I think I saw."

I shook my head. "Pretending that you have the sight will get you in a heap of trouble. Don't let Mother hear you saying such things."

Before he could answer, a horse whinnied outside the cottage. I jumped, but my mother just dusted her hands on her apron and calmly opened the door.

A man tumbled to her feet.