They arrived in the seaside town just before noon. For such a small place, it was surprisingly lively. Esme noticed that most of the people they passed were women. Mnou explained that most of the men were out at sea during the day, fishing. Exporting and selling fish was the most profitable—and really the only—way the people of Kalkha could earn a living.
As they approached the harbor, the smell of fish and the sharp scent of salt grew stronger. However, they weren't heading straight into the harbor. They turned into a side alley and stepped through the first door they came to. A bell above the door chimed sharply and magically as they entered.
The witches found themselves in a cramped space. It wasn't the size of the room that made it feel that way—it was quite spacious—but the shelves and racks were crammed to the ceiling with herbs, potions, ointments, and, for some incomprehensible reason, shrivelled turnips. Esme was immediately drawn to a display of strange amulets laid out on a small table in front of the counter.
"Darp!" Mnou called. "Darp! Are you here?"
From the small door behind the counter came a clatter that clearly included books hitting the floor and the shattering of at least one glass item. A string of muffled curses followed.
"Shouldn't we check if he's okay? What if he's hurt?" Esme blurted out worriedly.
Mnou just stared at the door, bored. She was used to these kinds of scenes. The stream of grumbling grew louder until finally, the door burst open and a small, bearded old man wearing round glasses appeared.
"What?!" he barked. But when he saw the witch, he calmed a bit. "Oh, it's you, Mnou. Do you have to yell like that? You scared me. Why do you think I have that bell above the door?!"
"That's the thing—I don't know. I've never once seen you actually hear it when I came in. So, I'm genuinely curious: why do you even have it?"
The old man squinted at her through his polished lenses, clearly struggling to come up with an answer. Eventually, he gave up and waved dismissively.
"It's just for effect," he admitted. "But you already knew that. So why ask again?"
"Maybe I know, but she doesn't." Mnou gestured toward her apprentice, who was watching the adult quarrel with wide-eyed curiosity and delight.
The old man followed her gaze and finally noticed the small figure. They were about the same height, so he could look her straight in the eyes.
"Well, well, what have we here? A hat and a wand—so another little witch. Could it be…?"
"Yes," sighed Mnou. "This is my new apprentice. Esme," she said, turning to the girl, "this is herbalist Darp."
"That's a cold introduction. Am I really just herbalist Darp' to you?" the old man teased as he shook hands with the young witch. "After all these years, couldn't we be called friends? You've been coming here since you first arrived." He turned back to Esme, still holding her hand tightly. "I should tell you what your mentor was like when she first showed up—such a quiet, grumpy, snarky little girl! Actually… she hasn't changed all that much."
"Tell me!" Esme exclaimed, her eyes lighting up.
Mnou shot the herbalist a sharp look and forced a sour smile. Her lips silently mouthed: "Don't you dare." Darp chuckled and winked at the girl.
"I'm here to buy some ointments and potions. Also need to restock some spices," the master quickly redirected the conversation.
The old man nodded and began unpacking her still-floating luggage. Mnou moved to a shelf filled with fragrant spices. But Darp wasn't one to let a conversation rest for long.
"Didn't expect you to take on an apprentice."
"It wasn't my idea," the witch snapped.
"Really? That sounds intriguing."
"She just showed up at my doorstep. What was I supposed to do? I didn't ask for this."
Darp nodded, his eyes now on Esme, who was quietly studying the amulets. "Would you like one?" he asked suddenly.
The girl didn't realize he was talking to her at first. After a moment, she looked up and pointed to herself in surprise—as if to say - Me? The merchant smiled and nodded. Esme gave a shy nod back, then quickly added, "But I… I don't have any money and my master…"
"Don't look at me," Mnou cut in bluntly, returning to the counter with a few spice pouches. "I'm not buying it for you. And just so you know, those so-called magical amulets are nothing more than nicely carved pieces of wood. Even you should be able to tell that."
"I always say the most important thing is what someone believes," Darp explained. "If a person believes they're magical, they'll protect them—just as they believe."
"So, you're lying to people?" the older witch shot back sharply.
"It's all about perspective," the herbalist replied calmly, stroking his beard. "But that's not the point. I think your apprentice knows very well it's not about magical protection. She just likes the pretty piece of wood, as you called it."
Esme hid her face under the wide brim of her witch's hat. She didn't say a word.
"You know what? You can have it," the man offered. "They're not exactly flying off the shelves anyway," he added with a raspy laugh.
"Really? Thank you so much, Mr. Darp!" She eagerly sifted through the amulets until she found one she liked. Darp gave her a nod of approval and she immediately put it on. It was rectangular, with a shining four-pointed star carved into it. A rune was etched in each corner.
"You've got good taste," the herbalist praised. "This one's my favourite too. It wards off spirits and dark forces. The runes are in the old language. It says: Ak helde dor Yelwa, which translates to: Let darkness be driven away by a…"
"Morning star," Esme whispered.
The old man looked at her, startled. "You can read ancient runes?"
But the girl was staring at the amulet, entranced. Mnou frowned. What's going on with her? "Hey, Esme," she nudged her, and the girl finally snapped out of it. She blinked as if waking from a dream and looked up at her mentor.
"Darp asked you something, in case you didn't notice," Mnou scolded.
"S-sorry… what did you ask?" the girl whispered.
"Oh, it's nothing. I was just asking if you could read old runes."
"No, I can't. I just know how to write Morning star," Esme explained. "Just a coincidence," she added quickly.
The adults didn't press her further.
"When we're already in town, how about we stop by the tavern for a bit?" Mnou suggested suddenly, just after they left Darp's shop.
"Alright, master," Esme agreed dutifully.
Mnou noticed that the girl had gone unusually quiet ever since she got her hands on the amulet. She didn't want to pry— not asking a wizard about their past was sort of an unspoken rule. A matter of basic respect. Even though they hadn't known each other long, Mnou had already learned that such gloom never lasted long with the girl. She let her sink into her thoughts, and sure enough, by the time they stood before the tavern door, Esme had returned to her usual talkative self.
The tavern was a small house with crumbling plaster, wedged into the corner of the village square. It was nearly empty at this time of day, but Mnou had been there one evening, and back then the place had been packed. An evening visit to the tavern was something of a local tradition—mostly followed by men.
"What'll it be, ladies?" the tavern keeper asked cheerily, clearly thankful for any business at such a quiet hour.
"Blackberry wine," Mnou ordered without hesitation.
"I'll have the same," Esme echoed quickly. She put on an innocent look and straightened her back to appear taller. Mnou shot her a frown.
"Not a chance. Bring her an apple juice."
Esme sighed in disappointment, but didn't protest.
Moments later, the tavern keeper returned and placed their drinks on the table. Mnou took a sip, and a tartness spread across her tongue, quickly giving way to a sweet flavour with a tangy undertone. The blackberries were subtle but enough to carry the whole taste. She savoured it slowly. Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at her apprentice, who was gulping her drink from a large wooden mug. The juice seemed to please her, but she kept looking at the wine in Mnou's hands.
"Don't even think about it. I'm not letting you taste it," Mnou said firmly, cutting off the unspoken request she sensed from miles away.
"I didn't say anything," Esme replied with an innocent pout.
"But you wanted to."
Silence followed, proving her right.
"Not even a little?"
"No, not even a little."
Defeated, Esme turned her attention back to her juice. At that moment, the tavern keeper returned—this time with his own mug in hand—and asked in a friendly tone if he could join them. Mnou looked at him sourly but tried not to show it and nodded politely. Damn, these villagers are way too friendly.I've barely exchanged a handful of words with him over the years—and most of those were about blackberry wine.
The conversation started with the usual small talk about the weather and how good the season had been. But Mnou responded with little more than a nod and a neutral: "Yes, it has." The man quickly realized Mnou wasn't one for polite chatter. After a pause, he asked:
"You're witches, aren't you?"
Mnou nodded cautiously and took a longer sip of her wine. Esme, silent and observant, instinctively shuffled closer to her master.
"And your name's… Mnou, right?" the man asked, recalling it correctly as he took a swig of horseradish beer. Another small nod from Mnou.
"I haven't seen you before, miss. Did you just arrive?" he turned to Esme.
"Yes," she whispered, "I'm the new apprentice."
Before he could ask another question, Mnou cut in firmly. "Do you need something from us? Because if not, I'm afraid we don't have time for idle chatting. We've still got plenty of work to do back home."
She downed the rest of her wine a little too fast, feeling it rise to her head. She knew well enough that alcohol hit her quickly—and despite many bad experiences, it still didn't stop her from indulging now and then. It was one of the things she truly hated about herself.
She fished out a few copper coins and was just about to grab Esme's hand and leave when the tavern keeper finally spoke up.
"Well, actually… there is something. Or not something I need, exactly, but… would you hear me out?" he stumbled over his words, clearly unsure how to phrase it.
"What is it, then?" Mnou asked, already irritated, sitting back down with a thud.
"I don't know if this falls within your… profession. I really don't mean to bother you. It's just—it's a bit of a strange situation," he fumbled.
"Do you want help or not?! If yes, spit it out already. If not, stop wasting our time!"
"Mistress," Esme tried to nudge her gently, but Mnou ignored her.
"Alright, alright!" the man blurted out, finally gathering the courage. "A lot of the villagers… they've been experiencing strange things. If you know what I mean."
Mnou raised an eyebrow, eyeing him like he was an idiot. When he just sat there, waiting for her reaction, she snapped: "Uh… no? I have no idea what you mean. What am I, a mind reader? Be specific, for God's sake."
"Right. Sorry. Well… they hear things. Voices."
"Voices? You'll have to be a lot more specific if you want our help. That could mean a thousand things."
"They hear… the voices of the dead," he said solemnly. A bead of sweat glistened on his neck.
"What?" Impossible. What is he even talking about?
"Yeah, they hear the dead. Some even claim they've seen them," he explained hastily. "A few say they ran into their deceased relatives. Heard them. Or saw them in dreams." He looked deeply unsettled, his forehead now damp with sweat. When he finished, he tapped both his eyelids three times—a local ritual to ward off evil thoughts, spirits, and demons.
The two witches stared at him—Mnou with disbelief, Esme with concern.
"Unless you've got a necromancer hiding somewhere around here—which I highly doubt—I'm afraid I can't help you. You can't believe everything you hear," she said with biting scepticism. But it was obvious she wasn't fully convinced herself.
"But… but what if there is a nechro-mat or whatever?" he stammered.
"Necromancer," Mnou corrected him irritably. "And no, there isn't. Why would one even be here? Some wizards even think the art of raising the dead has been lost—even among necromancers."
"Could it be something else?"
"No, I already explained. The dead don't just randomly start showing up. That's not how it works."
The tavern keeper hung his head and nodded slowly, clearly disappointed. "Alright, if you say so," he murmured, though he didn't sound fully convinced. "Thank you for stopping by ladies—or, um, witches—uh, lady witches." He scooped up the coins and slinked back behind the bar. His friendly demeanour vanished like steam from a kettle. He even left his half-full mug of horseradish beer on the table.
Mnou shook her head and muttered something under her breath. These uneducated village bumpkins are really starting to get on my nerves.They should just mind their own business. And even when I answer their stupid questions, they still act dissatisfied.
"Let's go, Esme," she said, motioning for her apprentice as she let the final drops of her wine slide from the glass.