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Nimueh was not expecting anyone when Ygraine came to her, but a witch often received unexpected visitors. And while most witches might not expect the Queen, Nimueh was a friend of the royal couple, so, again, not that surprising. What did surprise her was Ygraine's tears, which started up as soon as Nimueh bade her sit.
Ygraine the Golden was normally a happy woman, sweet and blonde, smarter than her husband and more compassionate, too. She was nearly the perfect Queen of Camelot. And she was in tears.
Nimueh put a little mulled wine on the fire to warm, and pulled out a blanket rubbed with lavender. "Tell me your troubles, Ygraine," she said, draping it around Ygraine's shaking shoulders. She knelt before her, and removed her shoes, began to rub her ice cold feet.
"You know," said Ygraine. "I will be thirty years old next summer, and there is no heir."
"Up until this year, Uther had spent no more than three weeks running in court. It's no surprise to anyone with sense that there is no heir."
"Sense is in very short supply among the nobles. And too many of them have extra sons." Ygraine had stopped crying; her eyes were red, but the look in them cold. "There has been talk of naming young Cador the Heir." She laughed sharply. "It is, of course, an emergency, temporary measure."
"One that will lead to war in five years' time, when your babe is past his suckling." Nimueh got up and took two mugs, poured the wine in them, brought them back to Ygraine.
Ygraine took her cup and sucked it down all at once. "I need you to give me a babe, Nimueh."
"There are herbs I can give you. Signs you can watch for—"
Ygraine jerked Nimueh's wrist towards her, looked her eye to eye. "That is not what I am asking."
"It is all I have to give," said Nimueh, and her voice, which had been warm and comforting moments before, was now flavored with the winter wind. "Release me."
Ygraine did and leaned back in her chair. She said slowly. "Gorlois is the one who wishes Cador on the throne."
"His daughter is betrothed to Cador, is he not?" Nimueh, too, relaxed, and sat back at Ygraine's feet.
"He has no love for witches, Nimueh. His mother was a vile—"
"Seer." Nimueh frowned. "She was the most powerful seer I've ever known, but she was nearly as unmagical as your husband, and a terrible bitch besides."
"Uther sees the danger, and he is pondering another solution."
Nimueh raised an eyebrow and said nothing.
"There was a bastard in the camps. It died young, thank god, but it means no one thinks the fault lies with him."
"He means to set you aside and find a new woman?" asked Nimueh.
Ygraine nodded, mouth drawn up tightly.
"There's a price," said Nimueh. She looked down, to where her hands were still working Ygraine's feet. "He came to me, you know? He begged me to get you with child. He loves you and does not wish to set you aside."
"What did you tell him?"
"I told him no, not if he loves you." She looked up at Ygraine, and when she spoke again, there was a weirdness in her voice, as if she spoke with a double tongue. "The Old Magic exacts an exacting price. The price of a life…." She sighed, and when she spoke again, her voice was normal. "Are you really prepared to pay that price, Ygraine? I can't direct it. It could be Uther who dies, as easily as you. It could be Gaius or me or Gorlois. Or young Cador."
"I am not buying a life or a child, Nimueh. If it were just that, I would gladly wait for nature to take its course, and counter everything Gorlois says in the marriage bed."
"So what then?" asked Nimueh.
"I am buying the future of Camelot," said Ygraine. "And I will pay whatever its cost."
Nimueh drained the wine in her cup, then went back to her fire and drained another cupful. "Leave," she said. "Return in three days. And tell noone what we have discussed."
"Not even Uther?"
"You think Uther would let this continue if he knew it would cost your life?"
"Ah," said Ygraine.
"Go," said Nimueh.