Chapter Text
The years had passed by so quietly, it seemed the whole world had grown peaceful. She was getting pampered by this stillness, she knew that. It couldn't persist forever even with the protection from the Good Violante. Yet, hadn't she had enough sorrow in her life to last her a life time?
Roxane looked at the small field extending from her house walls and was content. The sun was slowly setting on her crops, and the air was crisp and clear. Autumn was approaching, but it would not come by her little home for another month or so. There was plenty of time left to do all the work that had to be done before the earth grew hard and the days short. Much of it would be tiresome for her old back.
Luckily for her she would have help. She had not gotten used to the large structure of support that came into the world along with her dead husband and she wondered if she ever would. How strange it had felt to have all these people to love after all the solemn years alone on her farm with too much work and too little food. Now she hardly had to ask for company to get it- Resa and her family visited almost every day.
Speaking of the devil!
By the hill leading up to her farm stood a familiar figure. The distance blurred the woman, yet the long, blonde hair and the colourful attire could only belong to Roxane's best friend or her daughter. The two were so alike Roxane often had trouble telling them apart at a distance. Not that she would admit it.
The woman waived eagerly and started ascending the slope. Ah, so it's Meggie, Roxane thought and smiled. She turned her back to the visitor to put on some soup and maybe find a peace of bread to share. Shortly afterwards the doors creaked and a smiling Meggie entered. The slight chill of the morning had put colour in her cheeks and made her seems even more vibrant than usual. Ever since she had given birth her demanaur had changed to be more confident. She had her real mother to help her of course, but Roxane appreciated that she also came to her for advice. Roxane, after all, had lived in this world a whole lot longer than Resa. Maybe it was for advice she had decided to come by now.
Roxane did not bother to rush it out of the young girl, knowing Meggie eventually would tell her herself. She simply handed her guest a piece of bread, some butter and together they waited for the soup to warm up.
"The men are still out, I reckon?" Meggie asked.
Roxane nodded. She looked at the door leading to the bedroom where she had slept alone for a fortnight. "Yes," she said. "They will probably come back before the first snow. As long as Dustfinger is with them they will be fine. Jehan, I'm sure, is still ecstatic about getting to leave this small place. There are places bigger than Ombra and after my husband made the mistake of filling my son's head with tales, he should have known there would be no end to the nagging unless they went traveling. Maybe they'll find some real magical place at the end of the rainbow. Who knows?"
She got up to pour the food, but something stopped her dead in her tracks.
There was a face in the window. If she had been in the processing of pouring soup now she certainly would have lost it in shock.
It did not seem human at first. In fact, for a second she thought it must be some vengeful spirit coming to haunt her. Its skin was pitch black, but with smudges of a lighter tone spread across the face. Soon she realised the smudges were not smudges, but skin and that the black was soot and dirt. The thick layer of it blurred the facial features to where it seemed the whole face was a dreadful mask. It did not help that the eyes were dark as well- not entirely black, but a kind of soulless brown. Their expression was intense and unyielding, and looking directly at Roxane.
Meggie turned to see what Roxane was looking at and almost fell out of her chair. There were many creatures of the dark in this otherworld and maybe she thought this was one of them. But just then it blinked and opened its mouth to speak, and Meggie's terrified face softened.
"Oh, it must be a miner!" she exclaimed. "Or a wood burner," she added, puzzled. The person could not be tall, judging by the height of the window.
Without uttering a word or asking for permission Meggie jumped up to walk the few feet to the door. For a moment she blocked the view, but then she stepped aside with a peculiar look in her face and Roxane could finally lay her eyes upon the odd visitor.
They reached as high as Meggie's collarbone and though it was hard to tell for all the dirt they seemed gaunt with long weary limbs and a small frame. The hair was of an indiscernable colour and slicked back. The clothes that normally would identify the community a person belonged to were too worn and stained to tell. Roxane thought she could see the contour of a too- large vest and a shirt underneath, but the details were covered in grime. Whoever they were they wore trousers.
"Is this the residence of Roxane, wife of the fire- eater Dustfinger?" they spoke. It was the voice of a child. So it was no spirit this time, Roxane reflected. The situation disturbed her, but she hid it well.
"It is. What might I help you with?"
The child stared straight at her and did not say another word. Roxane stared back.
Finally they spoke again.
"I've heard of you. You are a witch. I hear you can make the moon swell and bring the dead back to life."
Roxane shook her head. "No mortal can bring the dead back to life. You have no business here."
Meggie looked troubled by the harshness of the words. Before she could muster a protest Roxane silenced her with a stare. Do you not see? she thought. How can you have forgotten? The resemblance was there, hidden under filth, but there nonetheless. Roxane felt like she had awoken to find a snake in her booths.
"We have business, alright," the child revolted, not at all taken aback by the rejection. "I have come a long way to speak to you. For a long time this land was covered with civil blood. There were too many vile misdeeds done in the name of righteousness. I have come to correct them."
Out from under their shirt the child pulled a dagger.
The women were quick to react to the shining metal and suddenly they were both in defense positions with Meggie protectively in front of the elder. Some instincts were hard to unlearn.
"Get out!" Meggie shouted, but lowered her guard a little when she saw what the intruder did next. They offered the dagger with head bowed and arms extended, as it if were some sort of sacrifice. Meggie struggled to make meaning of it, but Roxane only had to look at the dagger for a minute to determine that her gut feeling had been right.
It was an exquisite thing, measuring as long as the child's forearm. The handle was beautiful and white, as smooth as a newborn's skin. The blade was no less impressive, with edges sharpened to cut the air. Roxane had been poor enough to know what was expensive and this was it. And yet the child was giving it to her. Roxane refused it.
"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded to know.
"He gave it to me on my eight nameday. It was the only thing he ever gave me- the Dog. He told me I should learn to use it to get my way. He told me the world is a bad place and the people worse still. He told also me about you."
"So you are unfortunate enough to be Basta's offspring. Did you come here to avenge your father?"
The child put the dagger back, meanwhile staining the ivory handle with their messy hands.
"Your Dustfinger murdered my father. He slaughtered him like an animal. But I know the Dog was one of the bad men he himself spoke of. I did not come here to shed more blood. He did too much of that."
"Wait," Meggie interrupted, "-are you really Basta's child?"
The child looked at her and answered flatly in a tone that they seemed to have answered their entire life. "I am his bastard."
"What does your mother think of you coming to me then?" Roxane asked, only to get silence in return. "Did you think I would bring him back with my supposed witchcraft?"
Finally some emotion crept into the child's cold eyes and they watered. Roxane almost felt bad. Almost.
"No, I... No, I know he never loved me. I know he murdered a child, like me. I came to apologise. Look, I brought a gift."
From a hidden pocket they produced a small bag about the size of a fist. It filled the room with an exotic smell of spices and unknown herbs. The child handed it over to Meggie as she stood closest. Meggie studied the bag with a curious face but did not open it. Instead, she handed it over to Roxane, who was beginning to feel like this had to be a dream. It cannot be-
"Where did you find this? If this is what I think it is-"
"Yes, it is. One teaspoon of that can cure any illness. Two will grow a limb out. The whole bag will save someone lying on their death bed. You could dilute it out to help many or you could save a loved one when The White Ladies come running."
Roxane clasped onto the bag as if it were made of gold. Her thoughts turned to her family, the ones she had known forever and the ones that had been read into it by magical forces. Maybe she could protect them for once, especially the men that were always so keen on running off to fight. Jehan and Farid, and Meggie too- always too eager to help even when the odds were against them. She could protect them with this. If I had this when our children were young, maybe I wouldn't have lost Rosanna. A stab of guilt hit her. She was quick to let it go.
She looked up to find the others starring at her, and she quickly dried a tear.
"I must ask again- where did you find this?"
The child twitched nervously. "I travelled far. It did not come free of cost. Actually I worked for a family of wood burners on my way here to afford some food. I have also swept the streets and searches in the courtyard for scraps. They did not like that..."
Roxane smiled of the thought of Violante Her Kindliness finding this cub within her castle walls. She was kind, but not that kind.
"Do you have a name, little one?"
The child blinked, as it had forgotten it had one. "The Dog called me small one."
"And your mother," Meggie asked.
The child pondered for a minute as if deciding if it was safe to tell them. But Meggie's voice was sweet and her smile was caring. Maybe the child was not used to the friendliness, because they stuttered.
"I am Giorgia. Just Giorgia."
"Welcome, Giorgia," Meggia said. "Come sit with us. We were just about to break fast."