The ink-maker adds three drops of wine to the vial inserts the stopper and shakes. Aster watches satisfied that the black liquid has been produced according to Papa’s instructions: using the hawthorn branches he ordered cut last spring dried then boiled for eight days until the liquid turned black. Wine was the very last ingredient though now Aster would return home unplug the vials and leave them in the sun for three days to thicken the ink.
She takes the vials counts out the coins in payment. She slips the ink into a leather satchel and turns. She startles to see Sara there.
“Why the surprise?” Sara asks. “Even us ignorant folk have use for ink.”
Aster clucks her tongue in frustration. “Sara.”
Sara lifts an eyebrow and gives a shrug. “Well?”
