We descended and I saw two barred cells, small and covered with mold-specked hay which served as a bed and floor for Malvina whose frail form was huddled in the corner. She seemed to sense my presence and her creased face lifted weakly to behold me.
It took every bit of my resolve to not rush forth and collapse at the mouth of her cell, but her eyes cautioned me, darting between the guard and me. Her voice was clear in my head, it told me I must cultivate an air of retribution rather than sympathy lest these men find me in league with her.
I nodded firmly at the guard and paced forth, to sit on a gnarled stool. I looked behind and saw the guard retreating out of earshot and I quickly looked Malvina over, shocked to see her wrapped in a wooly blanket.
“‘Twasn’t the magistrate who afforded such kindness,” she began, voice as thin and cracked as her skin. “‘Twas George who brought blankets and warm clothes, despite the judgements of the devils here who claim to be men of God.”
I closed my eyes in thanks to George, feeling my heart soar with tenderness. “I am culpable for this, Malvina,” I whisper. “I know not how to convey apologies enough.”
“Ah, child, stop your fussing,” she cackled, her otherwise dull eyes displaying amusement. “This was how it became written once I changed your fate. I accepted it then and made the choice, so don’t waste your life with useless emotions such as guilt.”
“What can be done to save you, Malvina?” I asked desperately, longing to thrust my hands through the bars to feel the roughness of her skin once again.
“I have a trial in just hours and then I shall be hung right after, child,” her voice was resolute and accepting. “I am ready to shuffle off my mortal coil. Be at peace with it as I am.”
“I cannot lose you,” I rasped, feeling warm tears stream down my icy face.
“You must,” she told me, setting her lips. “My part is done. You must move on and you must live well, child.”
“I cannot,” I argued. “And neither may Iris. We cherish you, Malvina. You are second only to my own mother.”
“We will see each other in the world of spirits, child,” she reassured, pulling her lips into a lopsided smile. “You, Iris and I in another realm when all our lives have ceased, where time doesn’t matter.”
Wiping my nose with my sleeve, I dug into my bodice and pulled out the small vial I had mixed that morning and silently tossed it into the cell. She retrieved it and looked up at me surprised. “If you are to die, may you die on your own terms, Malvina.”
“You’ve learned the craft well, clever girl,” she smiled, her missing teeth cavernous looking in the darkness of the cellar. “Ye know I cannot take this.”
“But you must. You cannot be slaughtered as entertainment in front of the very people who used your healings all these years,” I insisted, hearing my voice climbing and then forcing it back to a murmur, afraid to attract the guard’s attention.
“I shan’t have suspicions back on you, girl,” she told me, her eyes overflowing with warmth at my gesture. “Makes no difference to me how I die. It’s the destination that’s important, not the journey.”
“Please reconsider,” I begged her, my fingers tingling with cold as I clasped them together in my lap.
“We haven’t much time, girl. We cannot spend a moment more on this foolishness. I have chosen my fate exactly as it is unfolding,” her voice became gruff and serious and I banished all the rest of my intended misgivings. “We must discuss your legacy.”
I nodded, eager to please her. “What must I know, Malvina?”
“I have taught you best I can in the way of medicinals, and you’re a worthy successor, should you wish to continue healing.” She leaned forward and dropped her voice to a scant whisper, “But when I am gone, you must retrieve your inheritance under the woodpile by my shack.”
“I will, Malvina. What then do I do?” I leaned forward to hear her and make my own voice audible, my shoes crunching the foul hay, sending up clouds of musty air.
“It is an arcane volume of magics, one not fit in the hands of anyone, child,” she warned briskly. “When you reach an age where death may be near, if it doesn't go to Iris or another worthy witch, you must have it destroyed.”
“Shall I destroy it now, Malvina?” I asked, wondering what purpose such a tome could have in the world.
“We must attempt to protect it as a legacy of a line of witches before us, child.” She gathered the blanket around her shoulders and hacked violently, her hunched shoulders shaking with the force of it. “But should you not find a worthy successor, it must be destroyed to avoid the power in the wrong hands.”
I nodded quickly, committing it all to memory as she stared at me coolly from behind the iron bars.
“The magic in the book can corrupt anyone, Mary.” I could not recall a time when she’d used my first name rather than “child” or “girl”, and the novelty of it was not lost, though it felt vaguely accusatory in nature as she went on. “Some of the malevolent magic contained there can turn even the purest soul to diabolism. Just as prophecy should be rarely employed, so must this. You are but a curator to it, not it’s master. You hear me, child?”
“I will be careful, Malvina,” I assured her, eager to allay these fears that have gripped her even as she faces down sure death.
“You must vow to not use prophecy, child,” she added rigidly. “I reckon you may be soft to that because I was weak and used it, but you must listen well. Fate
