"She told you she came down from the mountains. You witnessed the creature chasing her as well?" As they crossed the foyer, Doria Draco was speaking to them over her shoulder again
Draco House, as Dragones House was also called, was all warm colors with scarlet and gold drapes tied away from the great windows and allowing the days watery but warm sunlight to shine in. Polished bright woods and dark woods, marble, and shining gold—all was as you would be expected of a lordly house and stronghold except grace, welcome, and homeliness radiated from the place despite the foreign antiquities, paintings and sepias of black folks and animal statues of the dark continent from elephants to dragons more fearsome-looking than the creature that had attacked them today.
"Yes, your Grace." My Lady and your Grace seemed appropriate for a women sorcerer of such a house as this.
A hoyden and a spitfire of a witch with a quick fist and a hard flying kick that would knock a stunning spell into your children's children. That's what Mrs Burch knew about The Third, and even then only through rumor. She'd seen some of that here today certainly but right now Doria Draco, while still most feared especially now that they were entrenched in the dragon's den, appeared decidedly ladylike even with her bare feet. Dressed far above the station of a mere African slave in warm white skirts embroidered delicately about the bodice and hems. Worn brown velvet and silk dark buff brocade robes loosely belted at her waist by braided cord flowed beautifully as she moved and easily carrying Miradey in her arms.
They entered a bright chamber on one of the upper floors where windows and shelves lined walls filled floor to ceiling in books. A massive desk covered in scholarly clutter sat on a dais before the central window and a small platform stood in the center of the room. Sorcerer Draco swiftly approached the latter and laid Miradey upon it.
"Ma, why are we in the library?" Malchrie whispered. The Third seemed to believe their story which was likely the reason they were still alive.
"The library of Dragones House was also my mother's healing sanctuary," replied Doria. "She always liked to be near her tomes and notes and journals in the event she needed their knowledge immediately. What did you do to relieve her, Mrs. Burch?"
Mrs Burch showed her the dwindling supply of herb, cup, mister, and pestle left in her bag and explained the treatment she had used.
"It didn't last, my Lady. I'm sorry. I did all I was able."
Sorcerer Draco instructed her servants. Mrs Burch noticed that they addressed Sorcerer Draco in the same manner she did. In soft, whispering winds bearing their master's instructions they disappeared. The servants reappeared just as quickly, robes billowing, bringing with them and placing large potted plants around the room.
"How extraordinary, my Lady. Why, those herbs are the largest I have ever seen!" Mrs Burch gaped, realizing what they were. Nothing like the little farthings that grew in her window box, the buds blossoming vibrant, lush, and blue.
"Our gardens were my mothers pride and peace. They are quite healthy and abundant," said The Third, waiting for the servants to finish their tasks while she examined Miradey. She pulled out a mid-length wand from a slender holster beneath her left arm. Little flowers and vines covered it and the vines looked real, growing from the base of the wand. The design was similar to her wooden frame glasses. She checked the soles of the child's scarred feet, making a pained noise at the sight of them, then her chest, back and palms.
"I didn't think of it then. But my son says she slew that beast, my Lady. The girl was covered in blood and innards not her own and she had this thing in her hand." She gestured to Morrie.
He gave the needle he had carried strapped to his back like a sword to Sorcerer Draco. It had been carefully wrapped in a thick cloth for their journey up The Hill. For some reason, Mrs Burch didn't want it in her house.
"The child killed the thing that set upon my house."
Sorcerer Draco laid the needle on a nearby table and unwrapped it cautiously. Her eyes widened behind her glasses "I sensed something amiss but a beast, Tihone?"
"The reports are coming in," said one of the servants standing closest to her. Like the others, this wizard carried himself with a sense of duty and purpose but there was something different about his dress. Deep, radiant, shimmering purple robes with a wide lavender sash tied around his waist. He carried a handsome yet dangerous looking war hammer strapped at his side, engraved in the foreign symbols Mrs Burch had seen around the house.
"Some say it was a drake or wyvern," Tihone continued. He grunted. "Others know better."
As the sorcerer gently poked her pulse with a slender silver instrument, Miradey rasped a breath. A grinding screech and the little tool turned to ash in Doria's hand.
"Iron drought," Doria murmured. A sense of foreboding again assailed her. This is most certainly a curse's affliction, she thought. Commonly it was a deterrent. Cast as protective magic or a side effect of an enchantment or a spell to thwart and disarm an attacker. But she'd never seen iron drought in the form of a human ailment. She needed more time to unravel this conundrum. Time that the child might not have unless she acted quickly.
"Stand back," Doria ordered. She stood at the foot of the healing platform and took a very, very deep breath. A breath so deep her breast expanded widely with it. The room darkened as if the sun shining through the windows was blotted out by a slowly descending darkness ruffling its feathers and obscuring the light. Eyes burning with blue fire, she expelled her breath. It washed through the room in flurried, bright icy winds that froze only the herbs until they gleamed glowing, solid blue. Eyes still full of cold magic, Doria clapped her hands then snapped the fingers of both hands. The herbs shattered, releasing the herb's languidly swirling cold cure throughout the room.
The darkness lifted. Miradey's shuddering breath rattled through the library and she desperately sucked in the herb's chilled healing vapors.
"Ain't that much cold mist in the whole shire," boasted one of the servants standing nearby, smiling smugly at her mistress's magical prowess.
Mrs Burch gaped, awed. Never in one day, perhaps not in her entire life, had she seen magic have such colorful affects on a witch nor exhibit such powerful castings. This must truly be the power of a sorcerer, thought Mrs Burch. Furthermore, the power of a Draco. It was said that Sorcerer Severin, Lord of Serpenten House, was more powerful but it was obvious Doria Draco was a formidable opponent.
Miradey breathing eased greatly and she seemed to rest once more lying on the healing dais. Mrs Burch frowned as she looked upon her, feeling a sadness creep in past the lingering horror.
"Looks like a wasting disease but... what manner of malady causes a child to burn from the inside out, my Lady?"
"If only I knew." It is a curse. That much Doria was sure of.
Begging your pardon, Sorcerer?
Doria shook her head. Seeming to come back to herself, she turned to Mrs Burch, Igrus, Morrie, and Malchrie, saying, "You did very well. Thank you. It is thanks to your family that the life my kin, a precious child, has been spared."
She beckoned forward one of her attendants in their foreignly colored and patterned robes and jewel bright slippers. The servant held a small coffer in his hands and he cracked it open for the Burchs to see it was filled with a few minted gold bars and stacks of minted gold coins.
"Say not that my people are ungenerous."
"The right thing is its own reward," said Morrie.
"Gold is nice too," Malchrie muttered, gaping at their bounty even after the coffer was closed.
Mrs Burch jabbed her elbow in her son's rib even as she accepted the little chest nonetheless. Merchants in the village traded in silver. They would want the gold, gold being the highest form of currency in the magical world, but they wouldn't accept it, not knowing whose hand it had come from. But there were some who might be willing to trade regardless of the ban of dragon's gold. Abroad, it would certainly come in handy.
They bowed awkwardly then turned to leave, following one of The Third's people toward the door. Sorcerer Draco spoke once more.
"Your husband is tradesman, is he not?"
"Yes, my Lady."
"With the occasional bit of welding, yes." Mrs Burch nodded. "Tell him to never take a single scrap of metal from the Ironheart mines. Not for trade or for anything else. Something foul lives in the heart of that place."
When Mr Burch came home from his journey trading ore to the dwarves and elves, he was stunned to hear of his family's misadventure in his absence. He did accept the gold as a fortuitous windfall though. "It will be fine to trade abroad," he said as they turned into bed that night.
"We must not be seen in the presences of that woman," said Mr Burch expressing his unease. "Nor can we be suspected of conspiring with the House of Dragons."
That might be true but Mrs Burch wasn't thinking of that.
"Swear to me you have never and will never weld or touch a bit of Ironheart metal. Never, for any reason, husband."
Mr Burch chuckled. "Wish I could. It would fetch quite a bit of silver on the market—"
"Swear it!"
A heavy pause passed between them in which he wondered whether the whole of the day's events had unbalanced his wife. But he saw how tense Katherine was and how the whites of her eyes gleamed in the almost dark. He said quietly, "I swear."