The Loneliest Ballad

"I…" Celia gnawed on her lip and looked back towards Sabine but her lady was already gone. Celia could see her retreating figure as she hurried back the way they'd come.

Huh. Sabine had obviously meant it when she said she didn't want to hear a word of what was discussed with a healer.

Celia looked back at Master Noem. Was she really going to share her desperation with a complete stranger? What if the man went and babbled to the other royals?

It's a bit late to worry about that, idiot, she told herself. He already knows who you are and that you're sneaking around asking for secret advice, doesn't he? You may as well pose your question.

"I need help…to conceive a child. Do you have a tonic or herbs that might help me?"

Master Noem raised a pair of incredibly bushy eyebrows. "You're asking for a potion that toys with the very creation of life?"

"No! Nothing of that sort!" Celia gritted her teeth. Why the hell did he have to describe it like that, as if she were asking him for something wickedly sinful and dark?

"What I'm asking is for help so that I may grant my husband a child." she managed to keep her voice relatively level. "He wants a son, like most husbands do. And I want to give him one, like most wives do. So please don't act as if this is the first time a woman has asked this kind of help from you."

Noem chuckled at her edge in her last few words. "Quite right, Your Grace. But it's not often that the child in question might sit on the throne."

"All the more important I conceive, then. The country needs an heir." she replied resolutely.

Privately, Celia doubted Noem's comment that no other royal lady had ever asked him for such help. Queen Maura had been barren for years before finally bearing Tobin. Surely she hadn't just relied on prayer to achieve that miraculous conception?

The old man rubbed his stubbly chin, as if wondering whether to trust her or not. He eventually spoke. "I'm afraid I know very little about creating potions for fixing womanly problems…"

Celia's heart sank.

"…but I know someone who does." he finished.

"Another healer?" she asked eagerly, glancing around the smoky room.

"Not quite." Noem's voice was barely audible. "A witch."

Celia almost yelped out loud in shock, pressing the back of her hand to her lips. Had he really just said a witch?

"Is this witch…how do you know of her?" she made her voice equally low.

"She used to be a royal midwife, but was dismissed from the palace many years ago."

"I see. What did she do to bring that upon herself?" Celia gave the healer a sidelong glance. Unless things were different compared to Islia, she was quite sure the only person with authority to dismiss a royal midwife was the queen herself.

The man stayed stubbornly silent as he just looked down at his ink stained fingers.

After the tense silence stretched on, Celia decided not to press the matter further. "Alright. How would I find her, given I can't just leave the palace undiscovered? Unless you can summon this woman so I can meet her here, Master Noem? I'll make sure you're well compensated for your discretion."

The old man quirked his eyebrows again and said evasively. "You won't have to go far to find her, my lady. Why, I can lead you to her right now if you wish."

"But I can't be seen leaving the palace. I just told you that!"

"You won't have to."

"How then?" Celia was growing frustrated. Why couldn't the man speak plainly instead of confusing her with riddles? "You said the midwife was driven away from the palace-"

"The order for her to leave was given, Your Grace. but it was never actually followed through." Master Noem's whispered interruption cut off her words.

Celia sucked in a sharp breath as she stared back, mouth hanging open. "Are you…are you saying she's still here? That a witch has stayed hidden within this palace all these years?"

There was a sly gleam in the old man's eye.

"Without the knowledge of the king and queen? And…you've kept quiet about it this whole time?" she rasped.

Sweet heavens, what kind of court surrounded her?

"Do you want her help or don't you, Your Grace? Because if your conscience is too tender for such things, you should just leave now. I won't breathe a word to anyone that you were here." Master Noem picked up his quill, dipped it in the inkwell and started drawing again, as if he didn't care either way.

Though Celia suspected he really did care. Because if he was discovered to have been sheltering a witch under Their Majesties' noses all this time, a heretic's death would seem like a mercy to him.

He'd keep her secret just as faithfully as she'd keep his.

"Take me to this woman right now." Celia ordered as she could. She rose to her feet.

Master Noem stood as well and silently beckoned for her to follow him. As they walked further and further back into the cavernous room, she noticed a small door through the hazy air. It was so low that she'd have to stoop to pass under it.

Master Noem was about to reach for it when she hastily pulled his arm back. "Don't tell her who I am!"

The old man nodded but looked amused. Celia immediately felt stupid.

If the woman was truly a witch, surely she had means to disvover her identity?

Master Noem rapped sharply on the door. "Mother Thea, there's someone here to see you! May we enter?"

The witch responded through the door, her voice nothing like the cackle Celia had been expecting.

She thought back to her conversation with Sabine the previous day. She'd reassured her anxious lady that she wouldn't do anything too troublesome, too controversial.

Yet here she was.