The Herbwitch's Apprentice Ireen Chau (best life changing books txt) 📖

I saw the corner she was talking about. It opened up to a slightly wider street with a stone archway at the end of it, through which people were entering.

Humans, I noted. Not witches.

I wanted to peek in and see what lay beyond, but Lana stopped before an empty stand and set our crates onto the table. A piece of canvas was pulled over the top of four narrow posts, sheltering us from the strengthening sunlight.

“You may help me handle the wares and the payments,” Lana said.

I nodded and joined her behind the stand, seating myself on the hard bench.

“How long does the Market stay open?” I asked.

“All day, every day,” Lana said. Her eyes flicked to my wrist, where my bracelet of silver bells gleamed. “Do you have somewhere to be?”

I did. But I shook my head anyway. I would have to make up an excuse for Ash later.

A hunched, wrinkled woman approached us with a pole over her shoulder. Two large baskets hung from either end, reeking of fish.

“What have you got this time, Lana?” the woman croaked, squinting at the glass jars of antidote.

“Antidote for mild poisoning,” Lana said. “Works wonderfully if you’ve eaten bad seafood.”

The woman harrumphed. “Is that a jab at my fish, you old witch?”

I was both appalled and amused that someone had the guts to call Lana an old witch.

“Not at all, Nina,” Lana said. She smiled—actually smiled. “And what have you brought?”

“Fresh salmon from the river,” Nina said, reaching into her basket to pull out a limp fish the length of my forearm and thrice as wide. “Isn’t she a beauty?”

“Quite. Two for two?” Lana said.

Nina squinted at the jars, holding one of them up to her wrinkled face. The antidote gleamed prettily in the light.

“I would’ve suggested two for three but these seem useful. Very well, two for two it is,” the fisherwoman said. She pulled out two sheets of wax paper from her basket and wrapped the fish in each. Lana did the same for the antidotes and they exchanged their wares.

An hour passed and we had sold a good amount of our stock. In exchange, Lana got three heads of cabbage, a spool of twine, a hefty jar of honey, and five sticks of cinnamon. I loaded all this into the empty crates and set them on the wagon. By the time the sun was high in the sky, we were down to three jars of antidote.

“This was a particularly good day,” Lana said. “I hardly expected it.”

“Why not?” I asked. Lana seemed to have more than a few regulars.

“The Royal Guard has been preventing people from entering. There’s been several arrests, so I’ve heard.”

“Ah.” I thought back to the poor fellow who got thrown in prison after being accused of dabbling in witchcraft. Perhaps he just wanted some extra sticky glue.

The sound of horse hooves broke through the chatter. A cart rolled in through the arch, carrying a mass of something covered in a canvas sheet. The driver rolled to a stop near our stand. Judging from his skinny limbs and crooked stature, he was quite elderly. Despite that, he leapt nimbly onto an empty crate and struck a dented pot with a piece of wood. Witches approached the cart—many of them were smiling.

Lana was not.

“What is happening? And who is that?” I asked, glancing at the elderly man.

Lana exhaled and cleared off the remnants of her wares from the table. “A human under the impression that he is our hero,” she said. “There are many such people. I don’t like the idea of humans here if they’re not going to buy something.”

I watched the man pull off the canvas from his cart, revealing sacks of grain, crates of ruddy fruit, and barrels of other goods. Two other men began handing out the goods to the witches who had formed a line before them.

“He’s giving away food. For free,” I said.

“He fancies himself a philanthropist.”

I did not expect the venom in Lana’s voice. “Isn’t that a good thing? Being a philanthropist?”

Lana let her crate drop to the floor with more force than necessary. The remaining glass bottles clinked. “Humans will never view us as equals. Witches will either be feared or pitied—there is no in between. I don’t care for either treatment. But if I had to choose, I’d rather be seen as a monster than a charity case.”

“You don’t think there’s anyone out there who truly wants to help?”

“Oh, of course they want to help, but for their sake and not ours. Helping us witches allows humans to revel in their own greatness and generosity.”

I stole another glance at the cart-driving philanthropist. A group of young witches laughed in delight when he gave them a box of strawberries. Beside them, a dark-haired young man walked with his head down and shoulders hunched.

I scrambled down the bench, bumping into Lana.

“What is the matter with you?”

“Nothing,” I said, nauseous.

My suspicions were confirmed when the young man raised his head to look about with darting brown eyes. It was Ash—and I was a mere five feet away from him.

With unnecessary violence, I wrapped my scarf around my face until everything but my eyes was covered. Just as I finished, Ash fixed his gaze on me.

We had met a mere two days ago at the palace library for one of our meetings discussing his plan of exposing the duchess. It was a strange and desperate plan, but the mad part of me thought it might work and agreed to help. We met up frequently ever since. I was sure by now he had become more than familiar with my features.

Ash stared. I stared back, unable to move and terrified his lips would form my name.

But he merely made his way over to our stand.

“Hello,” he said, smiling stiffly at Lana and then me. I lowered my gaze. “Do you happen to have any...er...”

“If you’re looking for nefarious poisons and voodoo magic, I’ll have to disappoint you,” Lana said flatly, as if