not licensed, but I’m good. I can make cures. I can make poisons.” Her eyebrows shoot up at this and I shrug. “I had to,” I say.
“Good. I can use that.”
“Use it how?”
“When I fight the Sleeping Prince.”
I look her up and down. She looks like a baby deer, all thin limbs and wide eyes. She looks as though she’d snap in a high wind. “You plan to fight him?”
She pauses, apparently giving the question real thought. “Yes,” she says. “I do. Someone has to. Your people won’t, unless he brings the war to you. Merek is dead. If not me, then who? Besides, he won’t be the first monster I’ve faced.”
“What do you mean? What monsters have you fought?”
She ignores my questions, looking instead to the window. “We won’t get out of here tonight. The track will be too dangerous.”
“We?” I ask hesitantly.
She nods. “I told you, I’ll help you if you return the favour. Be my apothecary. Make cures that will heal the soldiers I muster. Make poisons we can use on his people – on this Silver Knight and the traitors that follow him.”
I stare at her. Who is she? How could she muster people? How could she save the Lormerians? How can she help me? “Your people? How are they your people?”
“The people of Lormere.” She waves her hand. “My countrymen. Seeing as yours won’t do anything to aid them, I will. For Merek. And your brother. I’ll rally whoever I can in Lormere, and anyone else who’s willing, and I’ll find a way to fight him.” In the glow of the fire there is something regal about her, something in her eyes like iron. She means it.
“Do you know how to fight a war?”
“No,” she says, flushing in the firelight. “No. I don’t. But I’ll find people who do. And I’ll have you. Maybe all it will take will be poison in his wine goblet, like in the story. Isn’t that how he became the Sleeping Prince, in your stories – your histories?”
I nod, frowning.
“Good. It’s a start. So, what would you need from me, to complete my end of the bargain?
I take a deep breath. “I need to get my mother out of the asylum in Tressalyn, and I need to get her somewhere safe. And isolated. I need to get the potion for her.” I pause. “And I need to stay away from the Tregellian army for a while.”
She blinks rapidly. “I can’t help you with the potion. But I think I can help you get her back.” She walks over to the mantelpiece and reaches into the chimney. I hear the chinking of coins before she draws the bag into view. It’s fat with coins, bulging. A king’s ransom. “I’m assuming I’ll be able to persuade someone to release her into the care of her dear long-lost cousin?” I nod, dumbstruck. “Good,” she continues. “As for isolated, this cottage is quite apart. And it’s by the sea. I imagine that’s useful for healing.”
My eyes widen. “You’d let us live here? In your cottage?”
“I doubt I’ll be using it while I’m at war. We’re quite far from Lormere here.” She smiles wryly. “You could use the kitchen as a workroom to create the poisons and healing potions I’ll need, whilst you care for your mother. Of course, once the battles begin I’ll need you a lot closer to our base camp. But that’s some time away yet. I’ll need time to find and organize my people. If she’s not better by the time we need to fight, you can engage a nurse for her while you’re gone. You won’t be out on the field, so you needn’t worry about that.”
“She won’t be better. She won’t ever get better. Her illness is very unusual. If anyone found out what it was…”
Dimia hefts the bag so it clinks again. “I’m sure we could find someone discreet enough for the task. You’d be surprised, I think, what people will do for money.” She looks at me, her eyes searching mine. “Or perhaps not. What do you say? Do we have an agreement?”
“Why?” I ask. “Why would you do this? I’m a stranger to you; why would you do this for me?”
She opens her mouth, staring beyond me to the rain lashing against the window. “Because you remind me a little of myself.”
Then I turn to the rain too, watching it slide down the windowpane. “What did you do, at the castle?” I ask.