The Skeleton Key

Today was finally the day. Morwenna was being assigned the mentor under whom she would apprentice for the next ten years, in order to become a witch. She was elated, as the Matching Ceremony was the rite of passage that signified her graduation from the Conservatoire. And she couldn’t wait to leave the school behind.

Despite the evidence to the contrary, Morwenna had loved her time at the Conservatoire. It was the dream of all young witchlings to attend such a prestigious academie. But how far could one really get by just studying botany, alchemy, astronomy, and the like, without doing any actual magic? Sure, she could brew up a fine potion to soothe one’s stomach, or make an elixir to put a full grown man to sleep. She could navigate to the Motherstone from anywhere on the continent just by following the stars, and she knew which combinations of gemstones and herbs would ward off or attract which kinds of demons... But that was basic stuff. At 14, Morwenna felt long past ready to venture beyond the walls of the Conservatoire grounds and be a real witch. She had studied hard. She was ready.

Except for one thing.

She stood outside the large wooden door of Madam Beddow’s sanctuary, and she suddenly felt a wave of anxiety and sadness wash over her, dousing her excitement like a glass of cold water. Before she had any chance to dwell on it, the door opened from within, and a wave of warm light and the scent of honey and citrus wafted out. “Good morning, Morwennifred!” Madam Beddow said in a cheery tone, using a silly pet name Morwenna begrudgingly adored. “I knew you’d be stopping by.” Her beautiful brown and grey-streaked curls bounced as she talked, like they always did.

Morwenna grinned. “I figured you would.”

“Well don’t stand out there like you’re not going to be invited in. Come on, come on!” She motioned for Morwenna to come in. “Today’s the big day! Have a seat my dear, let me get you something to drink.” Madam Beddow then spun to look the girl up and down over the top of her half moon glasses, with the speed and efficiency of a tinker checking the inner workings of a timepiece. Morwenna was strong and tall for her age, with raven-colored hair, and freckles that made her look a bit younger than her maturity level. She was already wearing her velvety-green robe for the Matching Ceremony later this afternoon. Madam Beddow frowned. “How are you feeling?”

“To be honest, a bit…overwhelmed.” Morwenna replied. “I’m excited, but...what if my mentor and I aren’t a good match? What if she tells me I’m no good at magic? What if she tells me I’m not cut out to be a witch and I have to spend my life as an herbalist or a guildswoman or, or…”

“Or an archivist?” Madam Beddow smirked, her eyes twinkling.

Morwenna blushed and looked at her feet, “I didn’t mean anything like that, Madam Beddow, you know I think the world of you and your work, I just-”

The archivist squeezed Morwenna’s shoulder. “Chin up girl! You’re far too clever to get caught up in such nonsensical thoughts!” Madam Beddow exclaimed. “We both know you’re going to be a great witch, just as you’ve been a great scholar. Which. I. Know. You. Will. Keep. Up.” she emphasized every word as she spoke them, then whisked her cape around and disappeared into the kitchen to get them both a drink.

Morwenna sighed and sunk into the large purple corduroy armchair by the window. Madam Beddow returned a moment later, bearing two elegantly shaped glasses of port wine.

“Wine?!” Morwenna exclaimed, eyes going wide. Scholars were not allowed to partake in any sort of revelry with intoxicants of any kind. And Morwenna was not a rule breaker.

“Oh come now, Morwenna. You’re not a witchling anymore after today!” Madam Beddow winked. “This’ll settle your nerves for the ceremony.”

Morwenna giggled and accepted the glass. She took a small sip at first, and then her eyebrows raised and she took a larger gulp, feeling an odd warmth spread in her belly. Madam Beddow laughed.

“It’s bitter, and sweet, just like today.” Morwenna said thoughtfully. She turned to the archivist. “I’m not ready to say goodbye to you, Madam Beddow. I…you’ve been like a beloved auntie to me.” Her voice quavered at the end.

“Oh, my lovely Morwenna!” Madam Beddow’s hand went to her heart and her warm smiled crinkled the corners of her eyes. She leaned forward, as if to let the girl in on a secret, and whispered “I have a gift for you.” And then she jumped up off of the wicker bench she had been seated on and pointed at Morwenna knowingly as she left the room.

Morwenna sat there, smiling to herself, puzzled but excited about what the gift might be. Sitting there in that room, as she had for so many hours in the years leading up to this, gave the girl a great deal of comfort. She soaked up the streams of sunshine pouring in through the large window and watched the motes of dust that swirled in the wake of Madam Beddow’s departure. She inhaled deeply and again smelled the warm honey, the citrus, mingled with the scent of old books and happy memories. When the thought arose that this may be her last time ever sitting in this room, she quickly pushed the thought out of her mind and focused on the present. She absorbed it all, taking a mental image of the room that provided her so much with a sense of home.

Madam Beddow returned a mere minute or two after she had left, carrying a small brown paper envelope, with Morwenna scrolled on the back. She dropped the envelope in Morwenna’s hands as she plopped back down on the wicker bench across from the girl.

The envelope had a decent heft to it, much more so than a simple piece of parchment would carry. Morwenna broke the wax seal, and poured the contents into her other hand. A small, brass-colored skeleton key slid into her palm. Morwenna looked up at the archivist quizzically. “A key?” She asked.

“Mmm. The girl does have eyes!” Madam Beddow teased.

Morwenna smiled, knowing now she was being tested. A key. Why would she be given a key, just as she was leaving the school? Madam Beddow couldn’t possibly know where Morwenna would end up after the matching ceremony, and a key for anything local would be as good as useless. Morwenna chomped down on the key suddenly, testing it’s consistency with her teeth.

Madam Beddow’s eyes widened, and then she laughed again, and her laughter bellowed out like a belltower in the crisp morning air. “It’s not charmed, girl. Think bigger.”

Morwenna’s eyebrows furrowed, and she stared at the key, seeing for the first time the ancient runes of Artemis carved along the shaft in tiny script. “Is this…is this the Key of Opening?” the girl asked, breathless with the possibility.

“It’s a key of opening. It’s not the Key of Opening. But still, not a bad gift, ey?” Madam Beddow’s eyes glowed.

Morwenna’s mouth was agape, and she sputtered once or twice before managing to put any syllables together. “Madam Beddow! You shouldn’t have!”

“Ah now, like I wasn’t going to get a Matching Day gift for my favorite pupil.” She chuckled to herself….