Free Scent of Magic by Andre Norton Page B

that you yourself, mistress, can distill scents fully equal to those from overseas.”
    “To each his or her trade, steward. The blending of a new oil or fragrance often takes years of labor. Unfortunately Kronen is not blessed with wide gardens. Most of my herbs grown here are for healing or cooking.” She had smiled, not altogether a friendly smile, Willadene had shrewdly judged.
    “Of course, should I ever be Star-blessed enough to find the Heart-Hold—then indeed I would have a treasure to offer.”
    “The Heart-Hold,” he had repeated. “Pray tell what that may be.”
    Halwice had shrugged. “The tale is very old, perhaps mostly forgotten by now. But it was said that once a Star-blessed healer in Kronen chanced upon a flower so perfect in form, so soothing in scent, that she kept it immersed in oil, sealed well against the air. And she discovered that those who looked upon it must come again and again, so her business prospered. But, at last, at year’s turn she was sent a dream that not for any gain in this world was Heart-Holdintended. And with the morrow she took it as an offering to Hasker—”
    “Hasker! But that—”
    “The Abbey was assaulted by night, by wolf heads, men said. Its treasures were taken, the Star-servers put to the sword. And that was well over three hundred years ago. Never since has Heart-Hold been found. But there are tales—one lady who dipped but the tip of her finger within the oil which preserved it was so sought after that she wed far above her station and her lord was firmly faithful for all his life. But that is all legend now. And—to return to your desire, steward, if I get another such Breath of Roses I shall send a message to the High Lady Saylana. You may take my word for that.”
    It was plain that he had to be satisfied, though he had been scowling as he had taken silver pieces from his belt pouch and rung them down on the counter. However, Willadene had noted that the wrapped package he’d taken up in return he had handled with care. It had been some long moments after he had left before Halwice had moved. Her head had been turned toward the open door, as if by some means of her own she could see beyond walls to watch him out of sight.
    Then she had slowly gone to that door, shut it firmly, having hung a small signboard on its outer side. Only when she had dropped the bar latch had she turned toward the inner room.
    She had pushed aside the curtain and nodded to Willadene without comment as if she had fully expected to find the girl right there.
    “Light the lamps—” she had ordered. “We must have full sight.”
    The girl had hastened to obey, and, with five lamps ablaze, every shadow had been banished and she could easily see the curve of body beneath the settle. Halwice had said he lived, but he had certainly not moved since her labor had stuffed him there.

    “Bring him out.” The Herbmistress had subsided onto a stool, leaving an open space on the floor.
    That had been more easily ordered than done, but at length Willadene had the limp man stretched out faceup. In this very bright light she had been able to make out more of his features. He was, she had decided, much younger than she had first supposed, nor was he uncomely. His features were sharp and fine, and there was none of the lumpishness and blotched skin which had plagued Figis at the inn.
    Halwice had surveyed him intently—he might have been some subtle problem in the combining of two of her treasured substances. She had sighed.
    ‘‘Well, let us to it. Go to the bed cupboard, press twice with the palm of your hand just beyond where the sliding door now stands—toward the rear wall of the room.”
    Willadene had hesitated, and Halwice’s glance at her had become a stare. “What keeps you, girl? Time is our enemy now.”
    “Mistress, you make me very free of your secrets,” the girl had said slowly. “I am not even signed to your service.”
    Halwice had smiled. “But that is what you