Discovery

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Sage exchanged a look with Hannah before both leaped to their feet. Hannah collected all she thought valuable, and as Sage readied to leave with her, Hannah shook her head. “If he comes here, he will know I was here, and he will punish Evelyn. We have to make it look like only you were here, but not me.”

As she talked, she collected her spare dresses, the knife she used to wear at her waist, and any signs that a young girl her age had been in the hollow tree. Sage attacked the kitchen, gathering all the perishable food, and even the discarded scraps. As if bees were attacking, they moved so fast that in less time than it took to tell, the inside of the tree was swept, literally, clean of everything that indicated Hannah had lived there.

Hannah even collected her attempts at writing and stuffed them into her bag with her father’s painting and stood back to observe the room the last time. It looked as if the cot and fire pit were for the owner. The few footprints were not hers. She had brought almost nothing into the workshop, and mentally inventoried it all.

“Okay, we can go now.”

Sage looked at her in confusion and fear. “Where?”

Their roles had reversed the instant the crow spoke. Sage was not the scared student looking to Hannah for guidance. “I know a place. Watch where you place your feet. How long does it take to travel from the village to the tree?”

Sage rushed to keep up with the pace Hannah set. “Remember? I have never been to the village.”

“It can’t be far,” Hannah panted. She looked over her shoulder and found the tree barely in sight. A few pink dots drifted by and she poked one with her finger.

“They’re fun. Some smell better, though.” Sage’s voice was oddly quiet and distracted. The fear of the Young Mage capturing her had begun to reach reality.

Sage had been sent as a teacher, not to be the subject of a search by a mage. Her steps were slow and disjointed. Hannah spun and continued walking, exactly in the direction she and Sir James had arrived from after the death of her father. They had been riding on horses, but only for a day, and a little more. The two were well into the forest when thunder rolled and ended with a clap that hurt their ears, and a flash of lightning that filled the air. Hannah looked up at the clear blue sky.

Sage said, “He has found the tree—and not you. He’s angry.”

“When a mage gets mad he creates a storm?”

“Immature ones sometimes do things like that. Remember, they are just men, after all. Young men and they cannot control their emotional outbursts like women. They always want to make loud noises or fight. That’s why a woman can make them do silly things to please us, but also why they will go to war over things you and I would negotiate.”

Another boom of thunder made their feet move faster, and they didn’t have the breath to talk. Did the second clap of thunder sound closer?

She didn’t run but moved faster than the horse she rode. Running would tire her faster, and they would make better time if they moved fast without wearing themselves out. Sage managed to keep up. The sun sank lower, and they kept on.

Sage called from ten paces behind, winded and panting, “Do you know where we’re at?”

“No.”

“Do you know where we’re going?”

“I think so.”

“Will we get there soon?”

“Not tonight. Late tomorrow.”

“Good,” Sage hissed.

“Why is that good?”

Sage said, “Because a full day away from that mage is not far enough. A day and a half is better even if we have to walk all night.”

Hannah kept walking, looking at the hills in the distance and recognizing them. They now followed a trail through the forest of normal trees, and she thought it looked familiar. When she spotted animal leavings, Hannah smiled. She had watched Cleanup do his work at the castle so many times she recognized the dried horse apples. They were from one of the horses she and Sir James rode.

“I know where we are.”

“See something familiar?”

“I did. We can follow this path and sleep under a tree when darkness falls.”

A while later, Sage said, “I was sent to teach you, but it seems you’re teaching me.”

“No, you’re doing a good job with my reading. I’m just not a good student.”

“That’s silly. Did you expect to learn in one day?”

Hannah didn’t answer. She knew the letters and how they sounded. Yes, she should be reading. “I guess not.”

Sage remained quiet until twilight, then said, “I don’t blame Evelyn, you know.”

“She didn’t know they had you watched.”

“They probably had all sorceresses watched. But that in itself says how badly they want to capture you. Hannah, I don’t know what is so important about you, but the whole kingdom is taking sides. I fear war.” Sage walked on before saying, “You have stirred a hornet’s nest and Evelyn is right. You need to run away as far and as fast as you can.”

Hannah turned and said, “And you have to go with me. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get you involved. We can still travel for a while.”

Sage followed, then asked softly, “You don’t have to tell me, but do you know what’s happening? Why they are after you?”

“I know part of it. Probably enough.” Hannah picked up the pace as her eyes adjusted to the night. The air felt crisp, the night still warm. Oddly enough, she felt comfortable and safe while running from half the kingdom. Yes, she knew enough to understand that adults were not against killing children who got in the way of them assuming power. She knew some were so hungry for the power of a king that they let nothing stand in their way. And she knew their gold bought others to do their bidding, people like the Young Mage.

“What are your plans?” Sage asked as if Hannah’s plans and she might not be the same.

A stand of Cedar trees grew just ahead. The others were pine, and she didn’t like sleeping under pine trees because they wept sticky sap that water didn’t remove. She pointed at the cedars with the soft layers underneath.

Hannah said, “You asked for my plans, but we need to discuss yours, too. I know you are older and know more about reading and magic than me, but if you believe you can go back to your home as if nothing has happened, you’re wrong. They will find you. You’ll end up in a dungeon or worse.”

“I want to go home.”

Hannah sat and unrolled her blanket. “Me too. I cannot force you to come with me. You can do what you want, I guess. Just know that if you return to your home, you will die. But my plans? I’m going to repay a debt I gained when my uncle died; then I’m going far away, so far they will never find me. Then, a day will come when I will return and seek revenge.”

Sage sat beside her. “You talk like someone older than me. Are you sure you’re only twelve?”

“Eleven, I think. William, Sir James’ manservant, asked me the same question.”

“You sometimes sound like you’re thirty.”

“I don’t think I’m that old,” Hannah laughed. “But with magic, how can you tell?”

Sage placed her blanket around her shoulders, but still moved closer to Hannah as if she spread warmth around her. Sage sniffed, but refused to cry as she bit her upper lip. “I can never go home?”

“Maybe. Someday. If the King settles this uprising, you can. If he loses, you may never see your home again. Or, I guess you can take your chances.”

“Hannah, how will you live? Will you apprentice yourself? And I am too old for that, so what will you expect of me? Should I wear bright copper bracelets and rings in my ears while I tell false fortunes to lonely women?”

One of the small gold coins that rested in Hannah’s purse hidden between her legs would buy a small farm, animals and all. The purse held several gold coins and two silver that the blacksmith had not divided. Then she remembered the two gold coins as large as copper slags, each as heavy as five or six of the smaller gold coins. Between them, they made the little purse sag with the weight.

Hannah said, “My father left me some gold coins.”

“We must fetch them or starve.”

“I have them with me.”

Sage turned her head in question, her eyes scanning Hannah. Distrust welled in Hannah’s mind. She’d only met Sage. But in the morning kitchens, she’d learned to make people earn her trust, and few did. Cleanup, for sure. There had been a little ivory bead she found in the yard. She showed it to Cleanup then left it where he stored his shovel and bucket as if she lost it. Her idea had been mentioning it to him and see if he returned it or kept it for himself.

However, before she could set the second part of her plan in motion, she’d looked up from adding wood to the stoves to see his smiling face stuck in the door. He was not allowed in the kitchens, of course, because all servants pilfered food if allowed. He smiled and held out his open palm, the bead in the center. “Did you lose this?”

“I did,” she cried, happier that she had found someone to trust more than the return of the bead.

She placed her shoulder bag between them as she readied herself for the night, casually placing it with the open top near Sage. The other girl could reach inside and feel for coins, and she might find the silver Hannah had placed there before meeting with the blacksmith, along with the three jots he’d made in splitting the other coin. I really should have left him another, even if I had to hide it, so he didn’t find it until I left.

If Sage stole the coins from her, better Hannah knew now than later when it might cost far more than two coins. But she remembered the little painting and pulled it free.

Sage’s head spun as if hurt. “What’s that?”

Hannah turned the painting so she could see. “My mother and father.”

“There’s a spell on it. May I hold it?”

Reluctantly Hannah handed it to her. “How can you tell?”

“Can’t you feel the eyes pulling you into it? The way it changes your mood to one of happiness?”

“I thought that was because of good memories,” Hannah said.

Sage turned and examined the painting in the dim light, using the moon to reflect light from the surface. She smiled. “There, I know what it is. I see a hair mixed in the paint that others might think is from the brush, but no. It is a hair from your mother. I’d bet anything there is one from your father, too. This is not the work of a mage. A sorceress did this, and a powerful one.”

“A hair from each of them? I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s part of a bonding spell, similar to a love potion, but not to bring them together, to remind one of the other.”

Hannah sighed, the tears flowing freely. “Painted after they fought and lived apart. He still loved her.”

Sage gave her a hug as she said, “He probably took a hair from her brush or something. What a nice thing to find out about him. Someday when you feel up to it, I’d love to hear the story.”

Hannah realized how little of her Sage knew. She knew the Young Mage wanted to kill her, but not why. She knew Hannah was a budding sorceress, but so new to the craft she couldn’t even read. She probably didn’t know who her father was, and for sure she didn’t know Hannah was in line for the crown.”

Secrets between people keep friendships soft and temporary.

When she woke in the morning, Hannah remembered where she was and quickly checked the position of her bag, and the contents that she had carefully placed so she would know if Sage searched for coins. The bag and contents were exactly as she left them.

They ate what Hannah called ‘hard crackers,' which were just thin bread, fried hard on each side, then lightly salted. They were a staple of servants, and familiar food, if tasteless. Water to wash them down, came from cold streams they waded past.

Sage wore her green pants and shirt that blended in with the forest, and a brown backpack and heavy boots. Hannah still wore her pale green dress, while carrying her leather bag and everything else rolled into her blanket, including her other two dresses, one of which she’d never worn, and her slippers. Hannah went barefoot, as she did most of the year.

Hannah pointed at one of the larger pines. “How old do you think that tree is?”

“The sorceress who mentored me said some of them are over five hundred years old.”

“Is she sure?” Hannah demanded.

Sage shrugged, “She has no reason to lie, but why are you asking?”

“Well, I’m not sure how to put it into words, but I’ll try. If that tree has stood there for five hundred years, there must have been so many people pass by that I can’t even count that high. If just one had chopped it down, it would not be there. Does that make sense?”

They walked up a fairly steep hill before Sage paused to catch her breath and said, “I think I see what you mean. All those people had the chance to chop it down and use it for firewood, or to build the wall of a cabin. Not one chose to do it.” She drew in a few deep breaths before continuing. “But there is another side to your observation.”

“Which is?” Hannah asked, her voice sharper than intended.

Sage pointed to the bald top of the hill they stood upon. “See that tree over there?”

“No,” Hannah said.

“That’s because someone did chop it down sometime in the last five hundred years.”

Hannah paused. “That’s interesting. I talk about what I see, and you talk about what you do not.”

“People are different. You and I look at the same thing and see something the other does not. I suspect there is a lesson in there somewhere, but I’m maybe eight years older than you. I can teach you to read and write, and a few basic spells, but from what I’ve observed so far, you will soon be my teacher in every way.”

“That’s silly,” Hannah laughed.

Sage didn’t laugh.