A Taste of Magic Read online

  I saw two men walking down the spoke-street to my left; one of them carried a heavy-looking sack on his shoulder, the other held a long garden hoe. Both looked at me, but did nothing, perhaps not realizing anything was amiss. I heard a horse and rider, a second horse pulling a cart. Other sounds drifted our way—the conversations of people approaching, someone singing. No whistles or pounding feet. I knew we’d been lucky. But I also knew luck was a fickle thing and that soon someone would discover Lord Purvis’s prisoner missing. Or one of the men inside the lodge house would wake and sound an alarm that would be answered.

  “This way.” I led Gafna down a street that stretched east from the lodge house, on a side where the building had no windows. There were residences here, mostly, the homes closest to the lodge house the oldest and in the worst repair. A hole in one roof; I looked closer and decided the house was abandoned. Warped boards on the front steps led to a door that hung crooked on its hinges. For a heartbeat I thought about taking Nanoo Gafna inside. But it was too close to the lodge house, and I suspected the Moonsons would search it.

  I resisted the temptation to use my wyse-sense again. I desperately wanted to search for any other Moonsons or for villagers who might be aiding them. But that might cost me precious time. Instead, I tried to increase our pace, discovering that wasn’t possible. A shuffling, stumbling gait was all Gafna could manage. I could carry her; I was strong enough and she was that slight. Such would draw undue attention to us, though, and so we kept to the north side of the street, where the shadows of the buildings seemed to stretch farther. We stayed close to the homes when possible.

  An elderly woman carrying a covered basket opened her door and looked at us curiously. Smiling at her, I pressed on, my hand around Gafna’s right wrist. The elderly woman said something to us, but I couldn’t make it out. I put all my effort into getting us down this street and to the edge of Elspeth’s Knot.

  “No. By the Green Ones, no.” Down a side street to the south, two blocks away, I spotted a Moonson. Near the wall of a long stone building, he seemed to be talking to two villagers. “Please, please don’t see us. By the Green Ones, please.”

  We were nearly past that intersection when Gafna’s legs buckled. She fell forward and I barely managed to catch her before her broken hand hit the ground. But I bumped her hand in the process, and she cried out.

  My head snapped toward the Moonson. He looked straight at us, and before I had Gafna on her feet he started jogging toward us. My weapons belt slipped off my shoulder as I picked up Gafna and cradled her to my chest. It was only one Moonson—I’d just bested two of them and a villager. I could defeat this one also. But we were in the open now, and there were people on the street behind us, the elderly woman coming out of her house and calling to us. In my haste, I’d brushed Nanoo Gafna’s hand again. This time she was prepared and was silent, though I saw the pain in her eyes.

  She cupped her left hand with her right and I ran, dirt from the dry street kicking up behind me, people hollering, a whistle being sounded. My mind worked as I ran even faster.

  Where to take us. What to do.

  Could I appeal to the villagers to help Nanoo Gafna and me? Might they side with me against Moonsons?

  I turned north, down the first side street I came to, moments later heading east again, down another spoke, where the buildings were newer and spaced farther apart. I heard more whistles behind me, shouts, feet pounding. I focused only on the witch in my arms and the street ahead, not wanting to trip—which would signal doom for both of us. The river wrapped around the edge of the village; I spied its blue-brown ribbon through a gap in a clump of birches.

  Within heartbeats I’d reach it … but what then?

  We were south of where I’d left Nanoo Shellaya. Alone, I’d jump in the river and swim to safety. But Gafna could not swim anywhere. We’d be caught at the river.

  “I should have listened to Nanoo Shellaya.” The words came out through clamped teeth. “Me, the fool.”

  Then we were past the end of the street, my feet thudding over grass, and I ducked beneath the low branches of the first line of birches. I tromped into the shallows and turned north, hunching my back like a turtle and trying to protect Nanoo Gafna from weeping branches that hung over the river. I tried my best to be quiet, but I knew the sounds of my sloshing carried. Still I could hear the whistles and shouts.

  “Nanoo Gafna, are you all right?” I’d jarred her more than a little bit with my dash from Elspeth’s Knot to the river. “How are—” I tripped, a submerged root catching my foot. Somehow I kept hold of Gafna. I rolled as I fell, so my back struck the river bottom. My ankle twisted sharply and I felt the bone snap. I went below the surface, and swallowed silt-filled water.

  Gafna kept her head above the surface and extricated herself from my grasp. Though I’d suppressed my wyse-sense, I felt her pain; it throbbed that strongly in her mangled hand.

  I pushed off the bottom with my arms, sputtering and coughing and dragging air into my lungs. I stood and leaned on Gafna, my broken ankle throbbing. I listened, still hearing whistles and shouts, the thumping of feet against the ground, the rustle of willow birches.

  “I should’ve listened to your sister,” I told her.

  “You intended well, Wisteria,” she replied.

  “My intentions caused you more pain and now will see us—” My voice caught as three Moonsoons rushed onto the riverbank, holding back the birch branches and staring at the water.

  “The woman and the witch, Commander Grellor, I saw them come this way.”

  “Aye, Cragston, I saw them, too, heard them jump in the river.” He stepped to the very edge, the points of his hard leather boots touching the water. He’d go no farther, I knew, wearing the long, heavy suit of chain mail and carrying a fine, large shield. But he’d order his men in after us. “But I don’t see them.”

  Commander Grellor cupped his hand across his eyes and looked north and south along the river, and then scanned the bank on the other side.

  “They couldn’t have drowned. Not this fast,” the one called Cragston said. “And they couldn’t have escaped us!”

  I watched Commander Grellor look right at me—through me—then slam his gauntleted fist against his shield.

  “What?” I mouthed. Can’t see us? He looks right at me!

  The sun was not at such an angle to cause the trees to shadow us. We were in the open, dripping wet, supporting each other. How could the Moonsons not see—

  A no-see spell, like Gafna had used on Alysen in the Village Nar! Only this time she’d put the spell on both of us. But how? Gafna suffered, weak despite the strength I’d given her. How could she …

  Stand quiet, I heard in my mind. The voice was Nanoo Shellaya’s. I turned my head, looking over my shoulder to the north. The old witch stood under the lacy veil of a massive weeping willow, Crust and Spring Mist with her. Gafna must have heard the words, too, for I felt her stiffen.

  “Spread out,” Commander Grellor ordered. “Cragston, take some of these men and follow the river south. Melore, to the north. I’ll organize parties to search the streets and buildings.”

  “Lord Purvis will not be happy that we’ve lost the Nanoo,” Cragston said.

  “Then make sure we don’t lose her—don’t lose either one of them.” Commander Grellor whirled away from the bank and strode down the nearest street.

  I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath. When I let it out, I gagged, some of the river water still in my lungs. Praise the Green Ones none of the men heard me. They were chattering among themselves, Cragston gathering some of the villagers and sloshing south through the shallows. My throat tightened, fearful the ones heading north would find us merely by running into us. But this group stayed on the bank, though one of them paused every few steps and looked across the water. They should have noticed Nanoo Shellaya, even though the veil of leaves fell around her like a cloak. One man parted the leaves of every willow he came to and looked closely. He s
hould have spotted her.

  Stand quiet, Nanoo Shellaya’s request came again.

  My ankle burned, though I stood in cool river water. I barely touched the ball of my foot to the riverbed, trying to ease my weight off Gafna. I succeeded in my plan, and received a stab of pain as my reward. I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth, biting it and tasting blood, hoping the new pain might keep my mind off my ankle.

  I did not succeed this time. The pain was intense. Still, I kept quiet.

  We stood in the river, as motionless as possible for nearly an hour. Nanoo Gafna leeched some of my strength so she could stay on her feet.

  The pain in my ankle intensified as I grew weaker, but there was nothing else to do for it. I’d chosen to go after Gafna with little planning and despite Nanoo Shellaya’s wishes.

  Neither—thank the Green Ones—had Nanoo Shellaya obeyed my request. I’d asked her to stay with Crust and Spring Mist north of Elspeth’s Knot, by the docks. But had she listened to me, Gafna would be in the Moonson’s clutches again, and who knows what fate I’d be meeting. Shellaya must have scryed on us and knew we needed help—because of my foolishness.

  As I stood in the silt-filled water and wrapped my mind around the pain, I tried to think how I could have done things differently. Chosen a different road away from the lodge house, maybe. Or we could have hidden in the abandoned house I’d spotted. My good foot was falling numb by the time the two Moonsons and their assembled villagers moved completely out of sight.

  Gafna and I stumbled toward Shellaya, passing under the willow veil. I expected the old Nanoo to scold me. But she smiled warmly and embraced her injured sister. It was difficult to tell under the umbrella shadow of the tree, but it looked like Shellaya’s rich brown skin was noticeably paler.

  The no-see she’d cast on Gafna and me—and on herself and the horses—had taken a great toll.

  24

  The pain!

  I hobbled to the base of the willow, sliding down against it, the heels of my boots touching the edge of the river. I tipped my head up and closed my eyes, and I let the tastes come to me.

  My pain, that was the strongest tang, and it made my eyes water. Gafna’s agony registered, too, and even though she was in worse shape than me, her pain did not taste as strong.

  Curiosity and concern came next—from both Nanoos, curiosity from Crust. No doubt the horse wondered why she stood in the shallows of a river under the branches of a tree. But Crust was good-tempered, and Bastien had trained her well. She stood uncomplaining, the pony at her side.

  The scents of the village reached us even here—all the emotions of the people on the east edge, still the joy of children. The river’s odor was the most pleasing, and the tree that rose above me smelled sweet. So I concentrated on that, as I strengthened the wyse within me.

  I barely noticed Shellaya help Gafna to the bank, settling her next to me. I was preoccupied, searching to make sure the men were not returning. I suspected they would go as far north as the docks and take a boat out onto the river. And I hoped the rest of the men would search in the village, where I had no intention of returning.

  “The no-see will last some time, Wisteria.” Nanoo Shellaya must have read my worry. “We are safe here. And we’ll not leave until it is dark. As I told you, the evening is a better time.” Did I detect a glimmer in her eyes?

  I kept up my vigil while Shellaya tended to Gafna. The Nanoo were known for their healing magic, and I could taste the wyse-energy flowing from Shellaya. The elder Nanoo could not completely mend Gafna, however, and so she relied on a narrow, fallen limb to help. Shellaya snapped it, and using a supple weeping branch as twine, splinted and wrapped Gafna’s left wrist and hand to keep the shattered fingers immobile. When Shellaya finished, she helped Gafna bathe in the river, then in my pack found a change of clothes that fit her.

  Nanoo Gafna was in far improved spirits when she stretched out on the bank and quickly fell asleep.

  Then Shellaya turned her attention to me.

  “Thank you for saving my sister, Wisteria of Nar.” She smiled at me. “Eri.”

  “Nanoo Gafna’s my friend. I did what I could, and—”

  “Chose well enough with your timing. Take care, though, that your impetuous nature does not bring you to ruin.” She knelt at my feet, the river sloshing around her. Then she tugged off my left boot, and I dug my fingers into the dirt. “It is broken.”

  I nodded. “Nanoo Shellaya, you and Gafna must leave here at sunset. Take Crust and the pony and go home to Mardel’s Fen.”

  “We’ll go nowhere without you, Eri.” She touched her fingers to my ankle, and once more I tasted the energy that flowed from her. But this time it flowed into me. “You’ll be well enough to travel soon.”

  Her wyse healing instantly quenched the fire in my ankle, and I could feel the bone mending, the sore muscles around it relaxing, the throbbing in my leg subsiding.

  “Nanoo—”

  “Shellaya, Eri. Remember, I’ve no need of titles anymore. At least not here.”

  “How is it you can mend my ankle, when—”

  “When I cannot mend the small bones of Gafna’s hand?”

  Her pale face took on a sad expression. “So many bones there, Eri, and some already healing on their own, but not healing correctly.” She massaged my ankle now, still directing wyse-energy into it. Her shoulders were more stooped than usual, and I knew she’d spent so much of herself that she was terribly, terribly worn out.

  “I will be able to mend her, Eri. But not today. Today she is well enough, and that will serve until tomorrow.”

  I wanted to tell her that I should have listened to her, and not gone to the lodge house when I did. That I should have waited until evening. Her wisdom was far greater than mine, and I erred in going against her counsel.

  I tipped my head back and felt the slight breeze tease my face. “So we will all leave this place, Shellaya, when the sun sets,” I said. “And…” I paused, tasting the sweat, determination, and frustration of men in the village behind us. A fishing boat sailed past, one Moonson and three villagers on it, the men scanning the river and both banks. When they were out of sight, I continued. “You and Gafna can go back home. Alysen will be so pleased to see Gafna. Take the horses, and—”

  “And what of you, Eri?”

  I suspected she knew precisely what I intended to do, but I would say the words. “I’ve a bloodoath to fulfill, Shellaya. The man responsible for Gafna’s capture and suffering is also responsible for the death of the Village Nar. I promised the spirit of my House Lady that—”

  She leaned forward and touched my forehead. “Sleep, Eri, for just a little while. You’ll need your strength to pursue your vengeance.”

  I awoke just as the last of the sun’s rays turned the river molten gold. It looked like a fortune in coins that shimmered as far as I could see to the north and south. The air was cool and set goose bumps racing along my arms. And the leaves rustling all around us provided peaceful music. I could have sat in the tree’s embrace, relishing nature, for a long, long while. I reluctantly got up and approached the Nanoos, Gafna on Crust and Shellaya on Spring Mist.

  Shellaya passed me my pack and a bottle of water. The pack was much lighter, having only a spare tunic in it now and the pouch of coins, along with two bars of oatmeal soap and the small box my mother had given me. I slung the pack over my shoulder.

  “Where will you search for Lord Purvis?” This came from Gafna, who cradled her left hand in front of her.

  “To the east, if what the Moonsons said is true, that he recruits men in villages there.” I looked to Shellaya. “I will scry to try to find him.”

  “And then?” Gafna asked.

  “When I’ve fulfilled my oath, I will return to Mardel’s Fen.” I studied the lined faces of both women. Shellaya’s skin was its rich, dark brown again. “My home is dead. I’ve nowhere else to go.”

  “You are always welcome with us,” the witches said practically in unison.<
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  “Go with the Green Ones,” Shellaya added. Then she made a clicking sound and flicked the reins, the pony moving out from under the veil of willow leaves. Gafna kneed Crust to follow.

  I watched until they disappeared from view, then I turned and started south. On the other side of Elspeth’s Knot the river narrowed. I would cross it there, and then I would find the demon-of-a-man.

  25

  Two horses slept in a pen attached to the outer wall of the village stables, and a soft glow spilled through a high window and brushed their withers. When I tasted the air I detected hay and manure and horses and more horses.

  The scent of a man, just coming to work, was faint and fresh. A village this size likely would have someone at the stables all the time because horses are so valuable and particularly since the Moonsons must be keeping theirs here. But just the one young man, I used the wyse to make sure, and the emotions that swirled and that I tasted were nothing to concern me … contentment from the animals, happiness; boredom from the man, and just a touch of resentment and ire. Perhaps something untoward had happened in his life before he had come to work tonight and the ill emotions lingered.

  I wondered what emotions someone would taste regarding me.

  Flattened against the side of the stables, I sat my satchel down next to a post, and pushed the tastes away. I wanted no distractions, and I would need my wyse for something else. I listened to the night sounds—horses wuffling and nickering, one tamping its hoof against the hard-packed stable floor, and in the distance, music and laughter, likely coming from a tavern.

  What I intended to do this night was not right. But I would try to make amends for it, and I would try to forgive myself later.

  I slipped between the rails of the attached pen and made a low clicking sound. I wanted to wake up the two horses before I approached them. Otherwise, they would spook and the man would come out to investigate.

  My eyes picked through the darkness, and I saw their eyes open and their ears prick forward. Nostrils quivering, they regarded me curiously. I continued the clicking sound and held my hands out to my sides. That one was a pony, likely a tall halflinger. So I stretched my wyse-sense toward the other horse, a vanner mare, I guessed, because of its profile. Bastien had taught me much about horses, and if I recalled my lessons correctly, the vanner was a strong but small draft horse used often by merchants and families who lived out of their wagons. It had a long mane and a feathery tail, and I imagined that it looked quite beautiful in full light. I clicked with a rhythm now and shifted my weight back and forth on the balls of my feet. Bastien had worked with the horses in the Village Nar this way, calming them and thereby making them more receptive.