Agent of Prophecy by M A Rothman

Author:M A Rothman [Rothman, M A]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Primordial Press
Published: 2020-06-28T16:00:00+00:00

The Mysterious Herb-Woman

Father sat back, patted his stomach, and let out a satisfied belch. “This was a very good stew, my dearest. And to think that only a few weeks ago your stew wasn’t deemed edible by even the sheep and the goats.”

“Hey, that was my first try! I’m allowed to make mistakes when learning, aren’t I?”

“Of course you are, my heart.” He sighed, and his eyes glistened.

“What’s wrong, Father?”

He pulled at his mustache. “I just wish your mother could see you now. She would be just as proud of you as I am. You are growing rapidly into a woman.” The cheer returned to his face, and he gave her a conspiratorial look as he whispered, “In truth, your stew is much better than your mother’s ever was.”

“Really? You aren’t just saying that.”

He shook his head. “Why do you think your mother hired Janius Mizmer?”

“Mother hired her? Really? Well, it was Madam Mizner’s recipe I followed. I only made a few changes.”

“Changing Janius’s recipes?” her father said with a chuckle. “You’re brave, too.”

Arabelle set the dishes aside and pulled out the book she’d brought with her. It was a leather-bound drawing book that had belonged to her mother. Father had given it to her years ago, because Arabelle loved to flip through and see all the sketches her mother had made.

Now she turned to the page she’d been looking at last night. The sketch on that page was of an old crone. Most of her teeth were missing, and she had tufts of hair on her chin. She looked altogether unkempt, and quite a bit frightening. Yet Arabelle’s mother had surrounded her with a series of wavy lines like a glowing aura. It gave the old woman a mysterious, almost divine look.

The old woman appeared in a few scattered sketches, but this particular image was so striking that Arabelle had decided to use her inner sight on the old woman—and had found that not only was she a real person, she wasn’t that far away. That made her curious.

“Father,” she said, holding out the sketch. “Who is this woman in Mother’s sketchbook? She appears several times in the book. Is she a relation?”

Her father twirled his mustache as he studied the picture. “It’s funny you should ask about her, for I know very little. After we were betrothed, your mother took me to this old woman’s home—a cave not far from here. I asked why, but all your mother would say was that it had to do with one of her visions, and I’d learned by then not to pry when it came to matters involving her visions.

“We walked into the cave, and the old woman was waiting for us. I found her… intimidating, if I’m being honest. She gave off the distinct impression that she could read my inner thoughts. She didn’t speak, she simply studied me, and then she nodded to your mother. Your mother smiled and took me by the arm, and we left without any of us ever saying a word.

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