Free The Secret of the Emerald Sea by Heather Matthews Page A

distrusted, but pay them, she did, all the while trying to extract a name or a detail that might lead her to the girl.
    For the sake of discretion, she veiled her amber eyes as best she could under a heavy hood of coarse fabric, and hid her smooth hands under her gloves. She had no wish for them to know that the Goddess of Wisdom was at their mercy. She wasn’t sure she believed in witches, for wouldn’t they know she was Minerva as soon as they saw her? But none of the crones called her so, or seemed to pay her much mind at all. She was simply another woman who could pay for their services. She liked it not when they peered under her hood, and tried to look deep into her eyes, for what did they see ?
    The last oracle seemed even older and more disheveled than the rest. Her face was a hatching of wrinkles and sagging skin. Indeed, she was haggard, and quite fearsome to behold. She bent forward to stare at the pure beauty of Minerva, barely concealed beneath her hood, and her eyes lit with envy. The crone backed away a little then, and reached for a crystal ball hidden in the folds of a dirty brown cloak. The witch held it cupped in her hands so that it was almost hidden from Minerva’s view. The Goddess of Wisdom watched silently as the crone shook the ball, waited a moment, and moved closer. The sphere was small, like a large apple, but it gave off a translucent glow in the dank and ill lit cave. The crone beckoned Minerva closer, and bid in her stare into the ball.
    “This will lead you to your pretty princess,” she murmured. “Look into the ball and see the golden-haired child you seek.” The ball clouded and cleared, and Minerva drew in her breath as the image of a young girl appeared, as clear and bright as though she were standing there with them. All the while the old witch had started whispering incantations that Minerva, who had thought she knew every language, could not comprehend.
    A dark energy filled the cave, and Minerva felt cold and soiled as she stared at the young girl who paced in a small bedroom, fretfully pulling at her hair. There were tears in her green eyes. Her whole body shook with sobs, and Minerva watched her stare out a window. It was snowing there, just as it did, lightly, outside of the cave. Suddenly, the incantations ceased, and the ball clouded up again.
    “Wait!” Minerva cried. “Wait, I still do not know where she is!” Angrily, she turned to the crone, whose eyes were closed, a smile stretched upon her skeletal features.
    “I will pay!” Minerva told her loudly, for she was angry that the images were cut off so suddenly. Minerva rummaged in her purse for more gold. “I will pay richly for more information,” she told her, watching the old witch open her eyes.
    “It’s not money I desire,” the old crone said. “But youth and beauty, if only for a time.” The witch stared coldly at the goddess. “I know who you are,” she taunted. “But still you have need of me.” She laughed a harsh and mocking laugh that made Minerva feel a cold sort of rage. “Give me my youth and some beauty, and I will take you to the girl. I will show you the Little One who will threaten everything you seek to protect. I would do it for myself, and make myself a vision of loveliness,” she witch said angrily, “but I cannot seem to make it work, and I have tried and tried.” She looked hateful as she stared back at her cauldron. “My spells have failed, but you... you could achieve this for me, if you tried.” She smiled slightly. “Think of the girl, so innocent and sad.”
    Minerva was appalled at the very idea. “I cannot grant you beauty, for you are terribly old, and I am not that powerful.” Minerva knew that such magic was wrong, that it could be done, but should not be done. To grant such power to an evil woman was clearly sinful and dangerous. Who knew what the end result would be? She had been told the oracles were safe, but this crone was not like the others who only