grandma-coded

The shop would not open until nine am; the hands of the little cuckoo clock on the wall pointed at half past seven. Elinor stretched out on the window seat with her tea and breathed in its fresh, herbal aroma.

Something poked her back; she yanked at it, disgruntled, and then remembered: last night she had fallen asleep here while reading. She pulled out a book richly bound in crimson leather.

Her ill-gotten gains from her little expedition to Newark the night before.

What fun that had been! The memory of the magus’ comically angry face made her chuckle. He had been far more powerful than she’d anticipated, to be sure. It was unusual for someone to wield such precise magic — he must have been equipped with a caster-gun of some kind hidden in his voluminous sleeves. Still, her potions, mixed in the tiny laboratory hidden behind the basement wall, were more than a match for him.

”I won’t get away with that trick next time,” she lamented. She flipped open the book to her spot, marked with a tiny crocheted cat, and found the line she’d fallen asleep on.

‘To create a long-lasting potion undetectable by scent, one must use only the purest of ingredients. It is imperative that —‘

Auntie’s door swung open down the hall. Elinor leaped to her feet and shoved the book back into its hiding place. The clock hands had moved along nearly twenty minutes from their previous position, so Auntie entered the kitchen to find her niece, hands wrapped in an apron, removing a fresh, steaming loaf from the oven.

”Morning!” Elinor chirped. “I’ll be out of the shop til after noon, I’m afraid.”

Auntie acknowledged this with a grunt and poured herself some tea. She didn’t speak until she had drained the whole cup, coughed a hearty cough, and spat out a glob of phlegm.

”I’ll be fine by myself. Do you have an errand to run?”

”Yes,” Elinor lied. “I must go to the greenhouses and speak with our suppliers.”

”Hmm.” Auntie drank another cup of tea.

They ate their bread with tender spring apples and fresh goat cheese. Afterward, Elinor fastened a short, knitted cape around her shoulders and laced up knee high boots. When Auntie was preoccupied with the dishes, she slid the book out from under the cushions of the window seat and shoved it into her satchel.

”Good morning!” she called by way of farewell. Auntie waved back. A moment later, Elinor closed the door behind her and tromped up the street.

The dust whirled up around her feet as she walked. It had not rained since the day the governor’s prison had exploded over a week ago. Unusual weather for spring, but Elinor felt it in her bones that another spring shower was not far away. Florists relied on a steady supply of spring blossoms to fill their vases, after all.

She had, in fact, not lied completely. She paid a very brief visit to the greenhouses where they grew their more exotic wares and received an update on the week’s expected crop. Then she skirted around the edge of the town until she had come back to the florist’s shop.

With Auntie occupied up front, no one noticed Elinor slipping through the back door and hastening down into the basement. Once she had locked the secret room securely behind her, she pulled out her book.

The long-lasting potions contained some understandably, if unfortunately, rather unique ingredients. She ran a careful finger down the list and felt a frown crease her brows. Of the ten listed, at least two she had on hand -- though their level of purity was suspect. The others could be harvested from the nearby flora, but would take some time and a good deal of alcohol to purify.

Never one to waste time, Elinor committed the plant names to memory and slipped back outside. A brisk ten-minute walk brought her to the city limits and out the gates. She nodded to the guards as she passed. Down the winding road her boots went with dust trails in their wake. The trees rose up to meet her at the bottom of the slope and she breathed a sign of contentment as they closed in around her.

She spent the better part of the morning and afternoon gathering her greenery. Leaf and stem, bark and root, wrapped gently in waxed paper and stored in the satchel at her waist. The fruits and flowers she placed in tiny glass vials to preserve them unbroken. The scents of eucalyptus and honey myrtle, may chang and wild mint, clung to her green-stained hands.

The last of her samples was a fine-looking blossom, shades of delicate purple and blue, that was too high off the ground for her to reach. She had just grasped the lowest branch with one hand and braced her feet against the trunk to climb when rapid footsteps nearby startled her. A moment later, an unpleasantly familiar figure strode into view.

Leather coat, red scarf, long legs and a scar down the right side of his face -- the sweet-talking basil customer. He looked just as startled to see her as she felt to see him.

“Ma’am.” He inclined his head; she nodded back. He seemed about to continue on, then paused.

“Would you like help?” he asked. “I can reach that for you.” His gaze drifted up to the cluster that Elinor was quite clearly aiming for.

Elinor considered for a moment. She did not much like being alone in the woods with this particular man; he seemed nice enough, but she had gotten a less than favorable impression of him the first time they’d met and she was not inclined to put herself in his debt. On the other hand (she curled that hand into the hem of her cape, felt for the tiny vial secreted in the hem), if he turned his back to her, that put her at an advantage.

“If you don’t mind,” she said, and stepped aside.

He stepped forward and reached up. His arms were almost stupidly long, and he smelled, once again, off in a way she could not quite describe. A sort of emptiness of scent. With quick precision, he snapped the flower at its base and handed it down to her.

“Thank you,” she said.

He smiled; it made the scar on his face pull in a distracting way. His eyes were very green.

“You’re welcome.”

With a slight bow, he strode off into the woods, disappearing as quickly as he’d come.

Elinor stored her last sample and hurried off as well. The sun was slanting downward in the west and it was far later than she’d anticipated coming back. Auntie would be grumpy over dinner.