Hemlock & Silver

by T. Kingfisher

Gossip found its way into my workroom only slightly more often than kings.

I knew that death existed, of course. I had lost two grandparents and one baby sister in the crib. I had not particularly liked Anthony, though I felt very bad for his mother, so I could not say that I was mourning him. But it struck me as deeply bizarre that Anthony had been alive and then his path had intersected with this quiet little root and now he wasn’t alive any longer.

The herbwoman was good with herbs and awkward with people, particularly children. She was so awkward, in fact, that she did not answer with a story that would impose order on the world, as my nurse would, nor a parable placing it in the hands of the saints, as the family priest would. Instead she told me the exact truth.

There is a crazy-wild delight that comes over you when you discover something new, something extraordinary. If you try to share that and people look at you blankly, it’s crushing.

“Learning just makes you aware of how much there is to learn.”

Noblemen notice beauty mostly by its lack. Women know that they are only as powerful as their face, and so they will slather poisons into every wrinkle, merely to keep what little power they have.

How would a potato preach to the other potatoes? You just don’t get that many missionaries among root vegetables.

When I opened them again, the lower half of the mirror-geld had twisted, and dozens of hands were slapping at the guard, trying to pull his sword away.

It’s not polite to be sickened by people who are doing you a favor.

I wouldn’t mind falling asleep in the same bed as you.”

“I’ve been completely mad for you since you dragged me into the mirror.” “What?” He reached over and took my hand, interlacing our fingers. “You were so excited. You tried to show me everything at once, and your eyes lit up, and you were just so fascinated by everything. Gets a man thinking what it would be like to have you look at him that way.”