The hedge witch was sitting in an old wooden chair by a fire. The chair was oddly shaped and of a strange design that looked as if it could only be comfortable to the witch herself. Thankfully, there were two other chairs by the fire-chairs shaped for more normal postures. The witch extended a gnarled, bony hand, inviting the two women to take their seats. Korinne and Mirrel quickly sat down, grateful-like their horses-for the respite.
In the flickering light of the fire, Korinne tried to make out the witch's features. Other than her being human, Korinne could not discern any of the witch's finer features with any clarity.
As if the witch had read her mind, she waved a hand in the direction of the fire and the flames suddenly burned hotter. The inside of the cottage became brighter and Korinne could easily make out the crag-like texture of the witch's skin, now brought out in high relief by the contrast of light and shadow on her face. There were also several moles under the witch's chin which seemed to be in a different position each time Korinne glanced at them-a trick of the light, she surmised. And finally, she looked at the witch's eyes. They were dark, almost black, even in the bright light of the fire.
Korinne was not repulsed. Compared to what she'd heard in tales of the lost folk, this witch was almost attractive.
'Have you seen enough?' said the witch, waving her hand at the fire once more. The flames suddenly died down and the inside of the cottage was once again dim. 'Now, why is it that you've come? What is it that you want?'
Korinne's heart was racing. It felt wrong to be here, but she'd come this far and she refused to give up now. 'My name is Korinne Soth, Lady
Korinne-' 'Who you are, I know,' said the witch, cutting off Korinne's words. 'What you want, I know.' She smiled on one side of her mouth, showing the women several of her dirty brown teeth. 'But I want to hear you tell me anyway.'
Korinne paused. She'd spoken about her troubles only with her husband and Mirrel. No one else. But she was surprised to learn that she had no qualms about telling this hedge witch that she could not conceive.
Somehow, she knew that what was spoken here tonight would never leave the stone walls of the cottage.
'I am barren,' said Korinne, a hint of sadness in her voice.
'Despite all my efforts, I have not been able to conceive.' 'No?' the witch asked playfully. 'How do you know that you are the one unable to conceive?'
Korinne was silent.
'How do you know that the problem does not lie with the great Lord Soth, Knight of the Rose?'
Korinne gasped. She'd never even considered such a thing.
'How do you know,' continued the witch, 'that Soth's seed is not to blame?'
Korinne felt compelled to answer. If she didn't the witch might continue to ask the same disturbing question. 'I don't,' she said, a slight tremor in her voice. 'I don't.'
'Then perhaps you should come back when you know.'
'How could I find out?'
The witch let out a small, dry laugh. 'Take a lover, or wait until your mighty lord produces a bastard.'
'No,' whispered Korinne. 'I couldn't.'
'I see. So what you want is not for me to make you fertile, but to give you a child.'
Korinne was silent. She turned to Mirrel for some help, but the young maid seemed as befuddled as Korinne was.
Finally Korinne simply said, 'Yes.' 'Well, I cannot,' said the witch.
'Why not?'
'What you are asking me to do is very dangerous magic. Even if I did try and help, you wouldn't know if I was successful for many months. And by then it would be too late.'
'Too late? For what?'
'To undo,' whispered the witch. 'If my magic works well, then everyone is happy. But if it does not, people might-' 'You must help me,'
Korinne said, getting out of her chair and moving closer to the witch until she was crouched at her feet.
Mirrel remained in her chair.
'And why must I help you?'
Korinne thought about it for a few moments, but couldn't think of much of an answer. She lowered her head and remained silent.
'Eh?' asked the witch. 'What was that? Speak up dear, I cannot hear you.'
Korinne felt her face getting flushed. There was no reason for the witch to talk to her in this way. No other reason than because she could talk to her this way under the circumstances.
Korinne let out a sigh, finally conceding that she was in no position to make demands upon the witch.
When the silence became prolonged, the witch spoke again. 'So, tell me again why I should help you.'
Korinne thought about it again. Why should this witch, someone she barely knew existed until two days ago, help her. Lady Korinne Soth of Dargaard Keep?
'Because I love my husband dearly and want nothing more than to make him happy.'
'Ah…' The witch's scraggly face brightened. 'Sure of that, are you?
Sure that a child would make Soth happy?'
Korinne considered it. Even though she couldn't be absolutely sure, she answered the question with as much conviction as she could muster.
'Yes.'
The witch nodded. 'Then I might give you what you ask for after all.'
'Might?' asked Korinne harshly. She was about to say something else when she thought better of it.
'Yes, might.' The witch paused. 'There is still the little matter of a payment for my services.' 'I can pay you any amount you desire,' said
Korinne confidently. 'Anything you want, tell me what it is and it will be yours.'
The witch's laugh sounded like boots sliding over a sand-sprinkled floor. 'Look around you. Does it appear that I treasure material wealth?'
Korinne and Mirrel glanced around the cottage. It was obvious that the witch cared little for material things.
Korinne's previously soaring heart fell into a deep dark chasm. If the witch wanted no material wealth, then what type of payment could she make? 'What is it that you want?' The witch smiled at the question. 'I want,' she said, 'the one thing you value most.'
Korinne thought about it. What was it that she valued most? It only took her a second to realize the answer was a simple one. She wanted a child more than anything else in the world. Soth wanted one as well. The value of a child in their lives was immeasurable. Priceless! But, how could she give up a child as payment when she couldn't have one in the first place? She decided to pose the question to the witch.
'How can I give you what I value most, when that thing is exactly what
I've come here to ask you for?'
The witch suddenly smiled and for a moment it was almost as if there was a quality of beauty about her.
Korinne nervously smiled along with her.
'A very wise answer,' said the witch. 'The right answer.'
Korinne let out a long sigh. So did Mirrel.
'If a child is the one thing you value most, then perhaps you deserve to have one.' The witch got up from her chair.
For the first time Korinne saw the misshapen curve of her back, legs and arms. She wondered for a moment: about what might have caused such a deformity, but quickly decided it was probably best she didn't know.
'I will give you a child,' said the witch. 'But I must tell you again that the magic you ask of me is very black and very, very dangerous.'
Korinne chewed her bottom lip, afraid that if she spoke she might end up changing her mind.
'And I warn you,' said the witch, 'the success of the spell will depend entirely on the virtue of your husband, on the virtue of Lord Soth.'
