Page 5 of The Noldrin Witch

Elise was left with the pitiful distinction of being denied before even voicing her request. With her spirits somehow lowered further, she decided to visit the only other friend she still had in town.

But the story repeated itself at the beauty parlor. The moment her friend saw her enter, she made herself entirely unreachable. Elise, already familiar with the dance, did not bother waiting.

It was as though someone had proclaimed she carried the plague. Elise’s worst fears took shape before her. Noldrin was turning its back on her, although, to be entirely fair, she also noticed the attention of nearly everyone she passed. She found small amusement in the thought that complete strangers seemed delighted by her presence, while the people who knew her best were busy closing doors in her face.

Before long, Elise saw plainly that, in addition to the gossip clinging to her name, the war had made employment difficult to find. She went from place to place, offering her help in the most courteous way, only to find little interest in her abilities or newly acquired refinement. She had gained so many manners that people were no longer certain she could survive the sort of work available. One butcher had laughed outright and asked how many days she imagined she would last behind his counter.

It all promised to be a tremulous journey before misfortune finally loosened its grip on Elise.

*****

Days passed, and with them Elise’s coin began to thin. Some days she ate only bread and water, hoping to buy herself a few more nights at the inn.

The innkeeper remained kind to her, but she knew that kindness would last only until her coin sufficed. Edward’s betrayal hardly seemed worth dwelling on when she found herself at risk of the streets. It was dangerous enough for a woman alone to stay at an inn. Each night, she locked her door and set a chair against it, a modest defense against any unwelcome visitor with more confidence than decorum.

The months she had spent cultivating her illusion of happiness had changed very little beyond herself. The common folk, despite the troops passing through and horses clogging the streets, seemed far more concerned with immediate troubles like cutting costs and not missing out on the gossip.

But life, despite its best efforts, rarely stays entirely grim for those determined to improve it. After visiting nearly every shop in town, Elise finally managed to earn more than judging looks. A bakery took her in. The employment would last only three days, but to her it looked nothing short of a miracle. That day, she was prepared to perform the modest task of scraping soot from ovens with all the dedication of a woman defending her final meal.

She arrived at the bakery with the first rays of light, just as the baker was opening the small side door for his daughters to begin setting the dough aside to rest before baking. The man received her with both surprise and visible remorse that he could not offer her better employment.

Elise was so grateful to the man that she set to work as soon as he had explained the process. She stood there even after the baker and his daughters left the loaves resting before baking to refresh themselves and prepare for the morning rush.

While she was deep in the inglorious work of clearing debris and ash from the masonry oven, a customer rang the bell at the front. Elise, still holding her stiff broom and long iron scraper, chose to repay the baker’s favor by not letting a few coins slip away for lack of attention. She dusted the ash from her face as best she could and received the customer with all the kindness at her disposal.

“How can I help you, good woman?” Elise greeted. She tried to hide the small shame of the cinder marks on her clothes and face. Thankfully, the woman was in no better state. She was foreign, Elise could tell. A poor woman from Bromheim, though that did nothing to diminish the kindness Elise offered her.

“Oh, how pretty,” the woman murmured to herself. She kept looking at Elise with a measure of admiration, seemingly forgetting the loaf of rye she had placed in her basket. “You look like an angel, my darling.”

Elise, confused for a moment, offered the weathered woman a smile. “You are too kind. Is that rye all you wanted?”

“It has to be.” The woman lowered her head. “How much is it?”

“Four coppers,” Elise said warmly. She knew that well, since it was the exact sort of loaf that made her own hunger somewhat more bearable.

The woman took a few coins from her small purse and counted only three coppers onto the counter. Her demeanor quickly fell.

Elise, compassionate as she was, felt for the woman, and remembering the baker had said those loaves were already days old, she did not mind offering a small discount.

“I forgot,” Elise said. “Only the fresh ones are four coppers. You can take that one for three.”

The woman’s face immediately brightened. She looked at Elise now with even more softness than before.

“I know these times have taken everything even from the wealthy,” the woman sighed. “And here I am being served by such a fine lady. You must be one of those who lost their fortune to the army.”

Elise smiled. This was the second time one of the Bromheim folk had mistaken her for rich. However, this time she felt the need to correct the benevolent misunderstanding.

“I’m no noble fallen on hard times, madam,” Elise said politely.

“Perhaps not a noble, but someone of fine breeding, I can tell.” The woman smiled.

Elise tried once more to clarify her origins, but no amount of correction seemed able to persuade the customer otherwise.

It was then that a solution to her misfortunes presented itself. If that humble woman and the innkeeper from Bromheim had so readily taken her for one of the ton, it was only reasonable to suppose others might do the same. With a good tale, properly told, she might convince some lady to take her under her protection, much as Lady Patrice once had. This time she would be more careful, and more importantly, she was now well acquainted with the habits of the refined, enough to make the story entirely believable.

Elise finished her workday, and by the end of it, it turned out she had done the labor of three people in a single day. The baker paid her for two days and apologized once again for not having a permanent position to offer. Elise saw the difficult situation of all good Noldrin, and despite her disappointment, she could tell there was no place for her there anymore.

That same day, Elise noticed the famed Bromheim procession the innkeeper had mentioned. The large group was on its way back to their lands. What she needed to do next appeared clearer than the surface of the bakery ovens she had so diligently scrubbed.