Witch Fall(80)
Doranna softened a fraction and gave a curt nod. The rest of the meal was punctuated only by the scrap and clink of plates.
Ignoring her food, Jolin stared unfocused out the window. The bubbling cauldron was cold, the plants undisturbed. Yesterday, the blacksmith had sent word that their steel wasn’t any stronger than regular steel. Jolin wasn’t really talking to anyone yet.
Lilette finished her food. She was tired of Jolin’s foul mood. What they needed was an expert on rocks and an expert on potions to work together. Lilette strode from the room without a word to Jolin or Doranna. After asking three different women where Bethel was, Lilette found her beside one of the cliffs’ many waterfalls. Eyes closed, the woman sat perfectly still, nearly soaked through from the waterfall’s spray.
Lilette crouched down in front of her, the spray cool against her damp face. “Bethel. It’s Lilette.”
“I know,” the woman murmured without opening her eyes.
“Jolin is making a potion,” Lilette went on. “But it seems no matter what she tries, it’s not changing anything.”
“That’s because she’s doing it wrong.”
“Well, now I know were Jolin’s bluntness comes from,” Lilette muttered. She wiped the moisture beading on her brow before it could run into her eyes. “Can you help her?”
“Yes,” the older woman said, “If she asks for my help.”
Lilette pushed down her rising frustration. “Jolin is far too prideful to ask for help—especially from you.”
Bethel’s jaw tightened.
“And you’re too prideful to offer.” Lilette sighed and glanced up at the towering wall above them. It was made from solid black rock. A staircase had been carved into the side. “There’s nothing at the top, so why build a staircase there?”
She started when she looked down and found Bethel staring at her.
“Because we’re going to need them.” Bethel paused. “Just like we’re going to need Jolin’s potion.”
Lilette blinked. “What?”
Bethel hauled herself up with a groan and limped down the path, going faster as her limp faded.
Lilette had to hurry to keep up. “Where are you going?”
“You’re right. It’s fast becoming too late for pride. When everything ends, we’ll need Jolin’s discoveries.”
Lilette threw her hands in the air. “Nothing’s ending.” But Bethel paid her no mind. Hurrying after her, Lilette huffed to keep up—she still hadn’t recovered all her strength from nearly dying, and anything over a walk made her breathless.
Bethel entered Jolin’s tree without knocking and went straight to the cold cauldron. Jolin’s head popped up from the table, crease marks imprinted in her cheek from the book she’d been lying on. Her eyes were hazy with sleep. “Mother? What are you doing here?” Jolin’s gaze suddenly sharpened and she glared at Lilette.
Bethel sniffed the potion, before dipping in a finger and sucking on it.
“I wouldn’t do—” Jolin started.
Bethel spat it out, and Jolin’s protest died on her lips. Bethel seemed to compose herself before turning to her daughter. “Potions are your area of expertise.”
Jolin’s jaw dropped.
Oblivious, Bethel knelt next to the rocks littering the floor. She closed her eyes and her body went still, as if she was listening. “But I know the earth. It’s not like the other elements—full of life and vigor. Earth is more like a sleeping dragon. Slow to rouse and cumbersome when it wakes, but after it gets moving, it’s explosive.”
Jolin put her head in her hands. “I know that.”
“No you don’t!” Bethel turned, her face creased with anger. “The earth is alive, just like your plants or the waters. But it’s so much bigger!”
“I’m simply trying to realign—”
“You’re not listening!” Bethel rose to her feet and started toward the door. “You never listen.”
Lilette stepped between Bethel and the exit, her hand up. “And where does she get her pride?”
Bethel shifted her weight from one foot to the other and took a deep breath. “Earth is simply too big to accomplish something so small.”
Behind Bethel, Jolin mimicked her mother. Ignoring her, Lilette went on, “Then what do we need to do differently?”
Bethel rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. “You have to find a stone that’s more awake. One that will listen to a potion and react more individually.”
“What stone?”
Bethel paused for a few seconds. “I don’t know.”
Jolin threw her hands in the air and stormed into the greenhouse. Bethel closed her eyes until the last of her daughter’s footsteps faded away. “And you should use a singer as well as a potion.”