Chapter 6: Copying Letters

The outfitters was a repeat of the stationer’s, but without the satisfaction of getting stationary

Now the most important purchase was a pack, much bigger than that I had left home with which was more of a satchel for carrying books. This was bigger, with a steam-bent frame of wood holding a durable leather sack. Straps across the front went over shoulders and around the waist, resembling a porter’s pack-frame. The pack was fine, ideal even, but what bothered me was the clothing going into the pack.

The pack was already filled with the purchases of the first stop. A tinderbox – matches were useful of course but flint and steel lasted longer and were not in danger of spoilage- was joined by by a pot, sewing kit, rope, flasks and other sundries. And that led to the current shop, clothing. The two buildings were actually connected, with a husband running one side, and the wife running the side with clothing.

“These.” Clara said, handing over a pair of trousers. Trousers! I didn’t typically fret over clothing much but I’d never consider wearing those.

Call me lazy but I vastly preferred my simple dresses and cloaks for ease of wear. While I had fancier clothing for formal events, I never picked it out myself. My parents would grudgingly send me a new dress every several months, not caring if they were out of fashion. They, and polite society as a whole, had given up on the daughter of the Lee branch family. And now, as stated in the wanted poster, I was no longer even considered a member of the family. For obvious reasons.

“Trust me, you’ll want the added protection, if you plan on exploring the wilderness.” I hadn’t even said anything. “There’s a reason why I go with trousers and a tunic over dresses. Now, for protection…” She trailed off, tapping a finger against her cheek in thought. “I don’t suppose you’ve learned anything about swords. Well, Harport will be a much better place to get a weapon anyways, it’s full of smithies. We can decide when we get there. That said, you will need a better belt than that woven one you currently have.”

She grabbed a heavy leather belt, as well as several pouches. The pile of purchases grew bigger, further diminishing my supply of silver. I had a few gold coins stashed away if I really needed it, but it would be better not to draw the attention those would bring. I suppose that’s the price to be fully outfitted for travel and exploration. Finally finishing with our shopping, we finally went to a nearby tavern for dinner. While there, I also got the bartender to fill one of the flasks I had purchased with whiskey. For medicinal purposes, of course.

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Mornings on the canal boat started early, I realized, but that worked out just fine for me. After all, I had a new task to set myself to. With Clara out on deck standing guard, and the boatmen doing their various boat-related things – not that I particularly knew what those were- I was left at the table where they took their meals with a tin cup full of coffee and the stationary I purchased yesterday. I used a rolled up pair of trousers as a book stand, and my coin purse served to keep the book open at the first page.

Satisfied, I took out a goose feather and in five deft strokes cut my pen. I tried to hide my excitement at getting to use my new travel ink-well before remembering I was all alone. Then I began to transcribe, letter by letter, the first page.

The first letter, oddly enough, was “T.” Following it, “H” and “E.” The. Okay, maybe it wasn’t so oddly enough. But it was a word, and a word I could recognize! My theory was correct, in that I could read my transcribed version, but not the original. I continued, but ran into a roadblock. The word at the end of the sentence was crossed out. It read:

The Grimoire of the Witch Amy

I continued to transcribe.

The Grimoire of the Witch Amy, Prudence Jones, Jessica Ritter, Gabriella Franklin, and finally, not crossed out, Morgana Sherman.

I glanced at the page, at this lineage of witches, and made a single stroke with my pen. Morgana Sherman. I thought for a bit, and after that name wrote Elizabeth Meade. I was no longer considered a member of my old family, I might as well fully embrace the new name. I continued to transcribe.

I was told I should put in some effort to put the many spells I learned to paper, but there is always the concern of those who aren’t “in the know” stumbling across this and thinking I’m crazy or, worse, realizing that these spells do work. But if you’re reading this, then congratulations, you passed the strict selection requirements I put into the spell. Oh, and try not to freak out about your new powers. Yes, magic is real, and you can use it.

I wasn’t the first to find this an odd thing to say, as the next sentence had a different author.

Obviously magic is real! It wouldn’t be illegal if it wasn’t. -GF

My own research shows the Empire didn’t always ban its use. -MS

The original witch, the one who first wrote this grimoire, must be from ancient times if magic wasn’t something feared. What must it have been like, being able to use magic without needing to fear exile or execution?

Obviously, if you’re reading this, you’ve found the key to reading the grimoire. It’s to write it. As a researcher, it’s common knowledge that the best way to retain what you learn is writing by hand. If my familiar is to be believed, it also enhances the power of the spell to have it so thoroughly implanted in the psyche. With your awakening to magic due to this book you may be able to instinctually cast some magic, but truly great feats require intense study and a knowledge of how to bend reality to your will. With everyone so convinced that magic “isn’t real,” it can take a lot of energy to overcome the overwhelming influence they exert upon the world, but with a thorough understanding of the mystical it is possible to work magic despite this. The more you practice the craft, the easier it comes to you.

But that’s enough introduction for now. Lets get to the fun stuff.

Are there going to be any beauty spells? Ah, why am I even writing that? PJ

I think her reasons to enchant the book were right. Even if they did believe in magic back then, they’d still think this woman was mad. -JR

I just want a spell that will make people not see me. -EM

The following page went into conjuring water and manipulating its temperature. The original author said she found this useful for coffee and tea. I had already, partially, done this instinctually, but the theory behind it was fascinating, using energy, that vibration I had been feeling, to speed up or slow down the particles that make up water. It was much harder conjuring water as rather than imparting energy into the world it instead rewrote reality itself. It involved, through mental willpower, insisting that what wasn’t there, was. In general, manipulation was easier than creation.

I looked up from my book, making sure no one was in the cabin, and slowed my breath. The text went into detail on how to convince yourself that despite what you rationally know, there is water in wherever you wanted it to be. She used some weird words to describe it, but the notes left by the other witches helped to clarify it further.

I felt my vision grow fuzzy at the edges, and the vibration, the energy, that I felt intensified. It began to feel as if I was detached from reality itself, a rather common feeling for me when I got exceptionally startled by someone. I imagined, no, knew, that my empty coffee cup was filled with water, knowing that this pure water, fresh from a mountain spring, was filling the dented tin of the cup. I lifted the mug, and took a sip.

The water was delicious.