“Can mages tell who is who? I mean, can they see another mage or sorceress and know what they are seeing?”
Sara considered the question while she touched her fingers to her chin, a habit Prin had noticed. She said, “No, I don’t think so.”
“But you’ve never seen or met a mage, so how do you know?”
“Because you told me so. Remember when the young mage watched you at the Earl’s castle? If he suspected you were either, he would have reacted differently. I think he heard the rumors that you might be the Old Mage’s daughter and he was trying to figure out how to use that information to help overthrow King Harold and maybe to prevent your father from resisting. He might have planned to hold you hostage, or kill you before anyone knew who you were.”
Prin asked, “So, what do you think we should do now? Just stay inside and hide and hope for the best?”
Sara strode to the front door, unlocked it and peeked outside before fully opening it. She stepped out onto the street and found a boy about ten and motioned to him. After passing a few words, and a copper coin to him, the boy ran off to deliver her message to El. She turned to Prin. “We’ll hide until we think of something better, but we should be safe here for a few days because Indore is so big. We can get those tables and chairs, and some shelves to hold our things. But until we do, I want to begin reading lessons for you.”
“Great. We’ll do it all day long until I can read as well as you.”
Sara laughed and said, “No, your head will explode if we do that. I’ll work with you in short sessions, then you can practice for a while, but you need to take breaks.”
“I’ll be the best student you ever had.”
“You know that you’re my first, so that is true. But while we’re down here, teach me to throw my knife like you do.”
Prin spun while pulling her knife and threw while taking a substantial stride forward. The knife whipped past her ear. With practice, she’d found that like boys throwing a rock, the stride helped accuracy, speed, and power. The blade spun, turning over too fast to follow with her eye, but it struck in the very center of Treeman, if a little higher than she’d intended. Her first throw from such a distance.
Sara spun, pulling her knife from the scabbard between her shoulder blades—and dropped it. The blade clattered to the stone floor.
The expression on her face warned Prin not to say anything, and especially not to laugh, and it would be a good time to climb the stairs and begin her studies. As she spread her writing materials near the front windows, she glanced out at the street. Behind a tree on the other side, a man tried concealing himself by standing directly behind the small trunk.
“Sara, can you come up here quickly?”
CHAPTER NINE
Sara arrived at her side, and together they watched from the edges of a small window at the man skulking behind the tree. He peeked around the trunk enough to see their front door, and he could also see the large double doors at the far end of the warehouse. His actions were obvious and clumsy. They saw El walking their way, head down, eyes on the uneven bricks of the street. Sara ran down the stairs to open the door, standing behind it to hide.
El entered and stood just inside the doorway listening to the words tumbling from them, telling him about the man hiding behind the tree instead of the tables and shelves they needed. He peeked out the door.
“Stay here, I’ll go see what he’s doing.”
“No,” Sara said. “This is our business.”
“Until your father gets here, consider me your protector.”
Sara made a grab at his shirt to hold him, but El slipped outside and walked up the opposite side of the street from the watcher. Prin caught a glimpse of the man, again, hiding behind a different tree. He stood deep in shadow, body still shielded by a trunk that was too thin to hide an ax handle. On impulse, she raced up the stairs and went to the window, moving quickly from one to the next, as if she was busy with housework. But as she turned, she found his head was tilted up, watching her intently. And behind him crept El, a club or tool clenched in his fist.
El wrapped his forearm around the neck of the man and struck him on the head at the same time. The watcher slumped, and El supported him, walking him across the street and to the warehouse door that Sara held open.
Prin met them at the bottom of the stairs. “Is he hurt?”
“I hope so,” El said, lowering him to the stone floor, none too gently. He released the limp body and let it fall the last foot.
The man was perhaps twenty, incredibly thin, and his clothing was shabby, filthy, and ugly. His hair was oily, dirt had worked its way into the creases of his face, where there were frown-lines, but no laugh-lines. A front tooth had been chipped at an angle, and his face and hands wore several scars. He hadn’t had a good life, Prin decided, and it was about to get worse.
Blood oozed from his temple, and a lump swelled. El rolled him over with his foot none too gently. The man’s eyes opened, his face filled with fear, and he tried to scoot away. El said, “Lay still, or I’ll give you another knock on your head.” He held the tool higher to threaten.
The man froze.
Sara said to him, “What were you doing out there?”
“Mindin’ me own damn business, miss. You got no right.”
Sara turned to El. “I don’t have time for this. Will you please beat him until he’s ready to talk? We’ll be in the loft making tea. Would you like a cup?”
“No, don’t hurt me,” the man shouted before El could reply.
Sara had already turned away. She looked over her shoulder. “What were you doing out there?”
“The mage paid me to watch the little one.”
“Her?” Sara demanded, pointing at Prin.
Prin felt the chill of fear, colder than her finger had been.
“All young girls who arrived in Indore the last thirty days. He’s payin’ for them all to be watched.”
El said, “Watched for what?”
“He’ll ask us questions about them in ten days. If we watched for all that time, he’ll pay us a full copper. There’s that one girl he wants.”
Prin said, “Describe her.”
“Between ten and fourteen-years-old. Yellow hair, but maybe she changed its color.”
“How do you know about these girls? Who told you who they are, so you can watch them?”
“The first days after he came, we asked sellers at the bazaar, the tradesmen, the constables, anybody that sees strangers. Then we told the mage, and if he says so, we watch.”
Sara turned and fully faced him again. “So, you have discussed us with that mage?”
“I just told him what I found.”
“Discussed,” Sara automatically responded with the correction. “What precisely did you tell him?”
“The people I talked to say her father sells spices, but she’d be about the right size, even with no hair.”
“What else?” Sara demanded.
“Some say she’s been here too long.”
“But you still watch?”
He cringed as if hurting—or expecting a blow. “The mage pays us, even if it’s the wrong girl.”
El said, raising his club again to threaten the man, “Why would he do that?”
Sara answered, “He’s looking for a girl in hiding. When he talks to the watchers he hires, he’ll ask questions that will eliminate most of them. I would expect he will reinvestigate the few who are left on his list very carefully.”