“Kirsten, can you fetch the pestle and mortar? My legs are not as young as they used to be.”

The young girl ran to get them for the royal wizard. She liked to think she was his apprentice. She wasn’t. Mervin had taught her a lot in the last two years, including reading, writing, and some math. But, and there’s always a but, as a girl, she wasn’t allowed to be a wizard, or an astronomer, or most things except a cook, nurse, housekeeper, or wife. The only exception was if you had royal blood.

At ten-years-old, she was tall for her age at four-feet-eleven-inches, and stronger than most boys. She was proud to be called a tom-boy, and kept her mousy brown hair cut in a page-boy style.

“Here they are.”

“Thanks, I don’t know what I would do without you these days. Fetch me a slice of ginger root, some rosemary, two leaves of apple mint, and a couple of nettle flowers.”

“I know, be careful with the nettle. I got stung once and that’s enough.”

“Why don’t you make the potion for me? Grind them all together and add a dash of goat’s milk. Her Royal Highness has an upset stomach, and that little concoction is the best remedy.”

Kirsten’s eyes twinkled as she expertly ground up the ingredients, added the milk, and poured the mixture into a small vial. “It’s done.”

She looked at the old wizard. He had aged considerably in the last couple of months, and had to walk, stooped, with the help of a staff. His long wispy white hair was tied back in a ponytail. His blue eyes still held a sparkle but his teeth clenched with pain with every movement.

“My arthritis will be the death of me. Here I am, a wizard, and I can’t cure myself. I think the gods are trying to tell me something. I wish they would be more explicit.”

Kirsten laughed. “What else can I do for you?”

“Go get my dinner. Your mother is the best royal cook ever. I’ve looked forward to mealtimes ever since she was appointed by Queen Avis. If I remember correctly, it’s beef stew tonight. Don’t forget to bring a chunk of fresh bread.”

With an overabundance of energy, she skipped out of the door, ran down the east tower’s spiral staircase, and across the courtyard to the kitchen, her mother’s domain. “Mom, is Wizard Mervin’s dinner ready?” she shouted.

“Don’t shout. Only I’m allowed to bellow in here. You, watch out, the fat will catch fire... Kirsten, my love, the wizard’s food is on the counter. Take a tray and don’t forget to add a mug of beer plus a chunk of fresh bread.”