Rowan Switched's Arc

Chapter 19 of 25

Rowan carried the deed home in one hand and the flask in the other. The cottage was cold. The empty rocker sat by the hearth. Rowan set the deed on the table and unstoppered the flask to check the paste before splitting the dose. The paste had gone cloudy. It had been clear amber that morning. Now it looked like pond water with sugar stirred in. Rowan held the flask to the window. The paste shifted slow, streaked pale. Luna had said three notes, one performance, no second try. A spoiled dose would crack the voice mid-note. A cracked note voided the deed. Rowan had until the dark moon, which meant tonight. Rowan wrapped the flask in cloth and walked the back path to the tree that held the witch's house. The little peaked roof leaned above the branches. Rowan climbed the ladder and knocked. Elspeth Moonwhisper opened the door. She was still corporeal, still bound. She looked at the flask before she looked at Rowan's face. "Paste turned," Rowan said. "I need to know if it will still hold." Elspeth took the flask and set it on a shelf lined with small bottles. She lifted down two. One was a gold serum that moved like slow honey. One was a clear vial with a swirl of blue and rose inside, labeled in a hand Rowan could not read. "Honey draws the answer out of the paste," Elspeth said. "Truth tells you if the answer is real. One drop of each. If the paste clears, it is potent. If it stays clouded, it is dead." "What do I owe for this?" "Nothing tonight. I owe a child a promise I broke. Helping you keep yours counts against that ledger." She did not smile. She uncorked both vials and held them out. "Your hand, not mine. It has to be yours." Rowan took the vials. One drop of gold. One drop of clear. The paste bloomed. The cloud thinned from the center out, then hung in the flask again, gray and still. Rowan watched for a slow count of thirty. The gray did not clear. Elspeth's mouth pressed flat. "Dead," she said. "It will not carry three notes. It will not carry one." Rowan set the flask down. The deed was in their coat. The moon was rising. Luna had said the paste was the only paste. Rowan asked, "Is there another way to steady the voice by moonrise?" Elspeth looked at the red bottle behind her, the one labeled for a father speaking to the living. She did not reach for it. "There is a voice potion," she said. "It is not mine to give. It belongs to someone who will want a price you have not counted. You have until moonrise to decide whether to ask."