Discovery

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Hannah discussed her general plans for leaving while William cut her hair into a stern bowl-cut, similar to how most younger boys wore their hair. The results were sure to be far better than if she had continued with the knife-that-made-cuts-that-never-heal, not to mention the choppiness of the job from inexperience and not seeing the sides and back of her head as she cut. She asked, “Did you bring any food this time?”

He paused, inspecting his work and wiping away strands of long blonde hair that had fallen onto her face. “Food?”

“I have not eaten.”

“At all? Today?”

She nodded and risked him chopping a place in her hair as she turned to face him, but he’d already pulled the scissors away while moving to her front, a pained expression on his face. “I’m sorry, it’s my fault, I guess.”

She shook her head. “Too much has happened today. It’s not your fault at all. I’ve been hungry before.”

“No, not that. I thought I made it plain. There’s food here in the kitchen right over there. I assumed you would help yourself.”

Hannah’s head spun as she focused on the corner of the room he’d called a kitchen earlier, but she hadn’t seen anything to eat, not even a stove or oven. Overall, a poor excuse for a kitchen, but if there was food . . ..

William saw her confusion and said, “In the cupboards.”

“Those little doors?”

“Six gods, girl. Have you never even seen a cupboard?”

“I’ve seen drawers and cabinets for storing things. Never for food.”

He held her head still with the fingers of his left hand, his other hand snipping the hair quickly and with the confidence of one who had performed the same job many times. “We’re almost done here. Can you hold on a little longer?”

He quickly finished and escorted her to the tiny storage bins in the kitchen cupboards. Most were dry-goods, grains such as oat, wheat, and barley. But there was also a variety of nuts, and even a loaf of stale bread, the outside so hard she tapped on the crust with her fingernail before deciding to eat it. Hard bread soaked in milk would be a treat for a fire-starter if she had milk. A bowl held carrots, turnips, and radishes that had shriveled since they were placed there. However, the carrots and turnips were semi-fresh. Hannah took three of the carrots and a handful of salted crackers she found in another bowl. There were other bowls, mostly empty.

“Eat,” William prompted, standing aside. “Tell me your plans.”

Instead of answering, Hannah bit the end off of a carrot and chewed while she thought how to answer. William was her only ‘friend’, yet she had only met him this day. Her instincts told her to trust him if for no reason other than Sir James had trusted him. But she had met Sir James only a handful of days earlier, and her judgment may be flawed on several counts. With people trying to kill her, she needed to be cautious

But following the line of thinking further back a few more days revealed that Sir James her father trusted each other, the kind of trust that comes with a lifetime of familiarity. “I’m going away to learn, just as Sir James said I should do, but with his death and the people here who hate me, I have to go somewhere else to live.”

“I tend to agree with all you say so far. The person behind the rewards for your death has posted rewards that I have heard were greatly increased this morning. He or she will not stop. Or cannot. The death of the Old Mage and Knight are too public, and if that person is found out, it would be the King’s province to punish anyone involved.”

“He would be angry,” Hannah said, still chewing.

“Oh, more than that. Both the Mage and Knight were personal friends of the King, as well as both of them were closely related to him. Their deaths and the attempts on you are as much as personal attacks and threats to the King. He knows that with this threat to his rule, his life is hanging like the last leaf of a tree in winter. The only difference is that he cannot escape to safety as you can. I am sure he will support your choice.”

“I see. The sorceress that was kind to us, Sir James and me, is a good woman. I think she will help, and perhaps even teach me. Her tree is hidden from all but those who sense magic.”

“That sounds like a good plan. Tell nobody else because you have to get there, first. An escort won’t help; it will make matters worse. You will have to do this on your own, Hannah. Your haircut makes you look like a boy, to some extent. More like a girl with straw-colored hair who cut it herself, I’m afraid.”

Hannah shrugged, anxious to leave now that darkness had fallen. She glanced at the dark windows and took another bite of carrot.

William rolled his eyes and said, “You have already packed what you are going to take with you?”

“Yes, most of it.”

“I have a few ideas that may help,” he reached for the small bottle of ink she had used for penmanship and removed the stopper. He poured the ink into a mug of water and stirred.

“A spell?” Hannah asked.

He chuckled without humor. “Of a sort. This spell will turn your yellow hair black.”

He poured the ink and water over her head and used his hands to work it down to the roots. His hands turned black, but he ignored the change as he used a convenient rag to wipe her hair, forehead, and neckline. “Well, that certainly makes you look different.” He went to the fireplace and scooped the ashes into his hands and rubbed it into her hair and onto her forehead, cheeks, forearms, and clothing. He said, “I dyed some of your skin, but you’ll have to live with it. The soot will hide the ink, I think.”

“If they stop me, I’ll say what?” she demanded, picturing in her mind how she must appear. “That I’m the son of a court jester?”

“No, you are the son of a mason. You help lay the bricks with him. No, you mix the mortar and keep it to the right consistency, that’s why the ash and soot. Still, if anyone looks closely, they’ll see it is a dye. Wear a hat pulled low.”

“Do I look as awful as I think?”

“Worse. But that’s probably good. Nobody will suspect a princess to look as awful as you. They may not even want to speak to you, especially if you act angry, spiteful, and run before you fight. You might say your father sent you to your uncle’s farm to clean the pig pit, and that’s why you’re so smelly.”

“You’re going to make me stink?”

“No, just tell them and most will back off before getting too close to you.”

She looked around the room, the scrolls, the containers of unknowns, the secret compartments yet to be found, and thought of all she might learn if she could stay. They King had promised to keep the room sealed for her, and she bit her lower lip to seal the promise to herself of returning one day. Then she squared her shoulders and said to William, “I don’t suppose you want a hug?”

“From a filthy boy smelling of a pig?” He laughed again, and this time, it sounded real.

“I have a long way to travel. Will you promise me again to seal this room until my return?”

“The King will honor our agreement, but I will make sure if I have to seal it myself. However, if you hear of the King’s death, that would be the time to return and stake your claim to your rightful inheritance as well as these rooms and all the contents in them. Any mage in the kingdom would love to own what your father has collected. You will need ears in this Palace to keep yourself informed. The death of any above you will adjust your position closer to the throne—and that puts you in more danger. I suggest you leave now while it is dark. Do not try to communicate with me for at least two full years. If your message or messenger falls into the wrong hands, it may cost your life.”

“How would I do that if I wished? After two years, I mean.”

“You would write me a letter when you learn how, telling me you are in good health and other faint information that will assure me of your intentions. You will include at least two happenings in this room that nobody else will know, like asking me to cut your hair once more.” William stood and walked to the door to the terrace. “Think you can climb down without help?”

“Of course.”

“The Palace main gates close at sunset. There is a guarded doorway to one side of the gate that remains open for a while longer. Ignore the guard. If he asks you a question, ask him if he smells the pig pit smell from when you cleaned it.”

She smiled. “That will make him stay away.”

“I wish I could do more, Hannah.”

“Without you, I’d be dead by morning.” She placed the strap of the bag containing the paintings and other personal items over her head and tossed one leg over the brick half-wall. She straddled it, taking one last look inside, grasping for anything else to remember her father. But in a room full of all that he owned, the small painting she carried in a canvas sack along with her meager supply of food, were the most important possessions. The painting was images of her father and mother, and she doubted another painting existed.

She twisted around so she faced the wall, and inched down the stone wall using her toes to hold her place until she hung by her hands. The fingers refused to let go until she saw both candles go out in the workshop and she heard the door firmly close. She kicked herself away from the wall and dropped, hitting the ground feet first, with bent knees. She managed to remain upright despite the distance and she slunk down an alley smelling of urine and age, and into the shadows of a small road lined with closed doors to shops, homes, and workspaces.

That road took her to a larger one that ran at an angle, and from there, the massive Palace gates shimmered in the yellow light of several smoky torches. Guards marched back and forth on the walkway above, as she looked for the small doorway that would take her outside the walls.

Others were leaving the Palace, too. Most looked like tradesmen or farmers who had been selling their goods in the market. They were finished for the day and headed home to their farms. She saw a man and woman wearily carrying bundles of their unsold fruit and vegetables. Behind them trailed five children, each carrying smaller bundles, all as dirty and ragged as Hannah. Hannah walked faster until she almost joined them, pausing when one girl turned and looked at her suspiciously. Hannah smiled and kept walking as if she was part of the family.

When they reached the gate, all passed through in single file, the guard yawning his boredom, his eyes dull and tired from a long day, she assumed. Outside, she increased her pace and passed the family, soon leaving them behind and almost catching up with others who were on the road ahead. When the shadows of overhanging trees grew deeper, she stepped off the road and ducked into the forest.

She had a blanket taken from the bed, but the night was warm, and she intended to walk for much of it. She and the Knight had traveled with the setting sun at her back to get to the Palace. She would do the opposite to return.

But she intended to follow familiar landmarks, if possible. Everything on the trip had held her attention because she’d never left the Earl’s Castle in eleven years, so in her mind, she remembered it all. Or did she? Hannah started to retrace every step with Sir James, from the arrow striking her father from the depths of the night to the river they crossed to reach the farm where they got the horses, and then on to where they found the sorceress called Evelyn in the tall trees.

From there it became vague. She’d been tired and scared, and the back trails had all looked much alike. Wait, she remembered the valley with the farm where they had ‘bought’ the old wagon and mule after using the ‘grapes’ that made the farmer forget. From that farm, they had followed the road all the way. She only had to remember the way from that farm back to the tall trees, and even if she got lost, she could ask people for directions to the trees that touched the sky. There could not be many places where the trees grew to that size.

Her near panic reduced to the more common fears of tripping in the dark, wild animals attacking, highwaymen camped on the paths she followed, sudden cliffs to fall down, lakes to drown in, and bats. She hated bats. The night turned darker as the moon set and she decided that the distance from the Palace would be enough to protect her. She sat under a fir tree and spread her blanket around her like a cloak as she ate for the first time that day.

She woke with the sun and mentally marked where it rose. She’d follow the road to the farm where they ‘bought’ its wagon, but from there she would keep the morning sun in her face. That should take her back, and then to the forest with the huge trees and the sorceress with the floating pink dots and Evelyn.

The road was off to her right, but too far away to see or hear the people traveling on it. Even if there were not hundreds of people trying to find her to collect the reward, Hannah found she enjoyed the new experience of walking on the paths made by animals instead of roads. Being exposed outside in the open left her anxious. Her entire life had existed around one small castle, and mostly inside the morning kitchen. Her brief excursions had been within the protective stone walls. Being able to see to the horizon left her a little uncomfortable, while the trails closed in and welcomed her with folded arms. Protected her.

As these thoughts were slipping and sliding in her mind, she watched all around her with the wonder of seeing it all for the first time. The leaves of one plant were scalloped while others were smooth or jagged. The bark was different textures and colors on the trees. Even the ground changed as she neared streams and it grew soggy, or when walked under trees over ground that felt as hard as stone. Her mind was looking, watching, wondering, and learning when she first heard nearby voices.

She paused in mid-step, too scared to lower her foot. The hunters, she’d listened to, always say that movement is what you see first; not color or shape. You watch for movement like deer, alert and poised, ready to flee. A successful hunter remains motionless, not even turning his head.

Many evenings she’d sat outside the tavern and listened to the men talk about hunting, and it all came rushing back to her. Some had been an exaggeration or outright lies, of course, but there was usable information, too. Hannah slowly turned her head and looked to where she’d heard men talking and laughing. Not more than ten steps away, behind some low brambles, three men gathered in a circle, concentrating on something on the ground in the middle of them.

She couldn’t move away. One had his head down, but his face would be looking directly at her if he even slightly looked up. Any movement and he’d see her. Only the stand of bushes and brambles knee-high grew between her and the three men. They were so intent on what lay between them that none paid attention to their surroundings.

They dressed in clothes almost as ragged as hers. Their hair appeared oily and bits of leaves stuck to the long hair of one. Between them, on the grass, were a few copper coins, probably the loot of a recent robbery. They were trying to split the coins between them, but the numbers were not working out, as one shouted, “Yer’ takin’ the most.”

“Am not,” the one facing Hannah snapped, and he shuffled the positions of the coins again.

The third chilled her when he snarled, “Five small coppers ain’t nothin’. We should be out there finding that little girl.”

“I think she’s just a bedtime story to get us all caught by the Knights,” the first speaker said. “But I should get two coppers because I’m biggest.”

“You want to fight me for them?” another said, half standing, his fingers curled into fists. “Because I’m the oldest, I should get two.”

Hannah had lowered her foot to the ground and eased slowly back, as slow as a cat approaching a mouse, while at the same time bending low to hide behind the brambles. She lifted her other foot and put it behind her and started to move further back when a twig underneath her toe snapped. She froze, moving only her eyes.

At the small sound, all three men spotted her. Instead of running, she made her voice husky, to sound like a boy and said, “I was just passing by.”

“Get over here,” one said.

Hannah debated her chances of running far and fast enough to escape. She might make it. But if she didn’t, they’d be angry at having to chase her. If they were three steps further away, I’d run. She moved a full step closer, acting confident, “What do you want?”

“I said get over here.”

Hannah took one last assessment of the situation and decided she had no option but obey. She went closer and said, “I was just walking down the trail and heard you talking.”

“So you decided to stop and sneak up on us, did you?” The shorter one asked. He stood shorter, wider, and older than the others. His two front teeth were missing, but he didn’t lisp when he talked. Perhaps they had been missing for so long he had gotten used to it.

The other two deferred to him, letting him do the talking for all three. Hannah paused, a few steps from him. “No, I said I was just following the trail, and I was. I didn’t hear anything.” Her fear turned to anger slowly. If she had been innocent, which she was, her actions would have been the same.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“The better question is who are you and your friends.”

“What’s that matter to you, boy?”

Good. He believed she was a boy. Her disguise had fooled him, so far. “It matters because my father and two older brothers get paid by the King to keep this part of the King’s road clear of people like you. They get a reward for each highwayman they turn over to the Knights.”

The story sounded good to her ears. She’d taken parts of what she knew and woven it into a convincing tale. Hannah used a limp smile that generated confidence and one she hoped they would believe.

“Oh my,” the short one said in mock horror, holding his hand to his mouth pretending to be afraid. “And they are so good at catching the ‘Highwaymen’ that they dress you in rags?”

The other two burst into gales of laughter. Hannah knew they didn’t believe her childish claim, and now that they’d taken her captive lying would make the encounter worse. But she didn’t wish to face what came next, and in desperation, she shouted while pointing. “Look! There they are.”

Three heads turned to where she pointed. As they turned, she spun and darted down the path, taking three solid steps before the first shouted warning sounded. Instead of slowing, she put her chin on her chest and pumped her fists, lengthening her stride. She heard footsteps pounding after her, at least two men, but looking would slow her.

Her breath already came harder and faster. The path was wide enough for one and reasonably clear of large rocks or roots that might trip her. She flew down it hearing the footsteps behind grow closer and closer, then they abruptly ceased. A quick glance assured her that the two men chasing her had both quit. The third must have stayed with the copper coins spread on the ground. They had been good for a few dozen steps chasing her, but quickly tired, as she hoped. If they knew of the small fortune she carried inside her pants they might still be running, but probably not. They didn’t look like men who could run very far or fast.

Her steps came slower, and her legs ached, but she kept blundering ahead, paying no attention to where she ran. As long as it was away from them, who cared? Later, she learned to regret that decision when she found herself lost in the forest. She had turned to her left at a path that went in the direction where she expected to find the road, and then she could use it for directions. But she only found an endless forest, and the sun kept peeking through the trees to her left when it should be ahead.

She turned to the left again, and still found no road. While crossing a stream, she remembered the words of Sir James. All streams either join others or flow into rivers. Along streams or rivers are farms or bridges. Hannah turned left for the third time and followed the stream.

Several paths and trails later, she still followed the stream but had not yet found the road or bridge. She kept her eyes and ears open, often pausing to observe what lay ahead. Before crossing any meadow, she either skirted around the edges or made sure there were not people waiting for her. The last mistake had almost cost her to be in the hands of the three men who stole five pennies for a living. Who knows what they would have done if they’d caught her? Especially, if they had figured out, she was a girl.

As the Knight predicted, she eventually came to the road, the same one she had been on when she had ridden in the back of the wagon. She immediately recognized a gnarled tree and a cabin set off the road in a clearing, looking like a house from a fairy tale. She had been under the no-see-me spell at the time. She wished for it again, but glanced both ways on the road and decided to chance using it. There were travelers going in her direction behind and in front of her, but they were a family with children, one of them a blonde girl about nine or ten.

Highwaymen will attack them and never look twice at me. She told herself that over and over. A hay wagon traveled in her direction. She increased her pace to move closer to it. At another stream crossing, the wagon halted, and the mule dipped its snout into the cold water and snorted, spraying water into the air like it was a game. The farmer leaped from the seat and scooped water into a metal cup. As he tilted the cup to drink, his eyes found her.

He said, “You’re getting out of there, too?”

“What?”

“The Palace. Are you getting away, too?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The Royals back there are killing each other. They say they’re trying to kill the King and set a new one on the throne.”

“Who is?”

“Nobody knows who’s behind it, but I thought I’d get away before being forced to take sides.”

“How many are dead?” Hannah asked, refusing the use of his tin cup.

“Three or four Royals, they say. Some guards fighting other guards, and the Knights are fighting, too.”

Hannah said, “Can you remember anything about those who died?”

“Just a little. Lemme see. A Lady Marlstone who was a favorite of the King got herself poisoned last night. The Old Mage died a few days ago, and the head Knight, Sir James, and his servant.”

The last seized her as if a hand wrapped around her neck. She felt the blood drain from her face, and she felt dizzy.

“You alright?”

“The servant. Did you hear his name?”

“You don’t look so good. Lemme think. He was Sir James’ manservant, and he was stabbed in his bed in the middle of the night, they say.”

“William? Was it William?” Hannah gasped.

“That’s the name. William.”

Hannah slipped to her knees, the tears streaming down her cheeks, the wails of pain loud enough for the small group of people following to slow and finally wait instead of passing by them. The driver also waited, his compassion and curiosity keeping him at her side.

He finally said, “You knew him?”

Knew him? He had been alive when he helped her escape. In a handful of days, she had a father, a pseudo-uncle, and a mentor who, all father figures, all willing to help her improve her miserable life. Now all were dead.

If she had not shown that stupid flame to the Old Mage, all would still be alive. It was her fault. Three deaths were on her head, three good men. The crying had almost ended, but with the thought of the three deaths, she started again.

When she almost controlled herself, and the farmer was helping her up, she realized that three bodyguards had also died, as well as others who attacked her. She had no way of knowing the total number of people who had died in the last few days because of her. She’d never even heard of Lady Marlstone, or how and why she was involved. It sounded like an attempt to overthrow the rule of the King.

Then, as if a mist falling from above, Hannah began to grow angry. Not the kind of anger that consumed a person over time, but the complete cold anger that turns other men’s knees weak. The anger of a person who has seldom felt anger, but now it filled them as certainly as a sack was filled to overflowing with grain. The sack cannot hold one more grain, yet another is forced inside, and one spills out.

The sobbing quit and she stood, looking at the farmer and his tear-filled eyes. He probably believed he had brought her the pain in some manner, and blamed himself. She wiped her nose and said, “None of this is your fault. I thank you for telling me what’s happening at the Palace.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you, son.”

“You didn’t. It’s my problem.”

“Would you like to ride on my wagon? I’ll be on this road for some time.”

She shook her head. “The road. It goes straight down this valley and into another?”

“That it does.”

She glanced at the small group patiently waiting behind on the road and gave them a half-wave of thanks before saying, “There are some things I have to do on my own.”