“Thank you, no.” He rubbed his temples, which throbbed from lack of sleep and what his acquaintances called ale-head. Perhaps a hair of the dog that bit him? It was still part of the tariff, even if the coins hadn’t stayed in the till. Stupid cow hadn’t noticed. “I don’t suppose it’s too early for a pint?”
She smiled. “My Da’s been known to breakfast on it himself. I’ve just washed up the tankards. Go and have a sit. I’ll bring you one.”
Natto went out and stretched his legs in front of the fire, and in another minute he had a drink in front of him.
“By the time you’re done with that, I’ll have the kitchen tidy, and we’ll take a walk outside,” Sponda said.
The first ale of the day always seemed to have a special tang to it, Natto thought. And it was just what he needed. By the time Sponda came out of the kitchen, fastening her cloak, he felt ready to take on the world again.
“There’s a nip in the air,” she said. “You’ll be wanting your coat.”
And the amulets on it, Natto thought, if the rumors turned out to be true. He climbed the stairs, and once in his room started to unbutton himself, but the chamber pot was far too full. He put the lid on and shrugged into his coat.
“Pardon me,” he said from mid-stairs, “But the—um—pot—upstairs is a wee bit full and I’m afraid I need to—” He felt his face turn red.
“I’m a country girl. I understand,” she said. “I’ll empty it when I get back. In the meanwhile, you can use the stables. Aim for the straw, if you please.”
Natto mumbled his thanks and went outside. The smell of the rendering plant hit him like a blow. He felt the oatcakes stir. He pulled his neckerchief up, and went to the stables. When he came out, Sponda stood bareheaded in the middle of the street, looking down the road, her hand up as if she’d been waving. But she merely tucked an errant strand of hair back into her braid.
“Better?” she asked.
“Much,” he said, his voice muffled by the cloth over his mouth. “How do you stand the smell?”
“I’ve lived here my whole life. You’d get used to it, after a time.”
Natto found that highly unlikely.
They walked down the road until Sponda stopped and pointed to a building twenty yards on the other side. “See that smoking chimney? That’s his cottage. Name’s An—drew. Andrew Barnes.”
“Thank you,” Natto said. He squared his shoulders. “I think I can take it from here.”
“Of course. You have your duties.” She nodded, then walked back in the direction of the inn.
He waited until she was gone, then crossed to the same side of the road as the cottage so that his approach could not be seen from its windows, feeling rather clever for thinking of that. He slunk along a rail fence until he reached the one-story hovel. Its yard was bare mud, strewn with rocks. A bundle of feathers was nailed to the front door.
His knees trembled as he eased around the corner and peered in a grimy side window. He saw a small room, barely furnished with a single chair and a table in front of the hearth, where a low fire burned. The only other light came from a candle at the center of the table. Around the base of the candlestick lay an array of small objects—a key, a bone, a few coins, a black box, a bundle of herbs.
Natto drew in his breath. Wizard’s goods, if ever he’d seen them. Beside the table, standing in shadow, was a bespectacled man, slender as a girl, with a thick mustache, his hair in a dark tail, as had been the fashion in the capital a few years back. He wore a long purple robe with a matching skullcap. As Natto watched, he picked up the bone, muttered some low words, then replaced it in a different position.
Clutching the amulet on his coat, Natto felt the hair on his arms and the back of his neck prickle with fear. He held his ground and watched as the wizard practiced his arcane rites.
After what seemed like an endless time, the wizard picked up the square black box, half the size of a man’s fist. He muttered some incomprehensible syllables, then slowly opened it and removed a velvet pouch. He undid the drawstrings, muttering incessantly, and tipped its contents into his hand.
It was a pearl, a magnificent jewel, fully as large as a gooseberry.
Natto gasped, and quickly put his hand over his mouth, lest his position be revealed. He drew his head back a few inches.
But the wizard had not heard. He stood for several minutes, tipping his palm toward the candlelight, rolling the sphere so that its color shifted with each movement—white, then silver, lavender, pink, pale green, white again—as if he had captured a rainbow, transformed again and again in the flickering light. Finally, with a small sigh, the wizard replaced the pearl in the velvet bag, and the bag into its box.
He looked around the room, his glance passing over the window without pause, then stepped over to the hearth. He set the box on the mantel and slowly tugged loose a brick waist-high on the right side. Behind it was a dark opening, into which he put the box, muttering all the while. He replaced the brick, returning the hearth to its original appearance.
Stepping back to the table, he reached into a pocket, and in one fluid motion tossed a handful of sparkling powder toward the candle flame. The room filled with a blinding, blood-red flash.
Natto jumped back, sightless for a moment. When the spots in his vision had cleared, he peered into the tiny room again.
The table was bare. The wizard was gone.
Was he? Natto waited for a minute, five, ten, then broke into a jig. He had done it! He had found the pearl! In two days’ time, he would be a wealthy man. He walked cautiously around the cottage, nerves quivering, but the yard was also empty. He circled one more time, to be absolutely sure, then put a hand on the latch.
Nothing happened. His hand didn’t tingle, there was no fire, no demons. He went inside. The room was dim, lit only by the coals, but it smelled like sulfur. He made the sign of warding and touched the amulet, kissing his fingers and murmuring the only prayer he knew. Then he walked to the hearth and ran his hands down the bricks on the right side.
It took him a few tries to find the loose one; he pulled it out with a grating sound, loud as a trumpet to his own ears. He stood motionless for a full minute before daring to reach into the hole, but encountered only the smooth leather of the box. He opened it, felt the round weight of the velvet bag, and tipped the pearl into his hand.
Even more beautiful up close. He gazed at it for a moment, then roused himself. There would be plenty of time for admiring once he was away from this wretched village. He replaced the pearl and bag and slipped the box into the pocket of his coat.
It took all his will to stop himself from whistling on the way back to the inn. Even the stench from the rendering plant seemed less odious.
Sponda was behind the counter, a ledger and an inkwell in front of her. She looked up from her accounting. “Were you successful?” she asked, smiling. “Did you find treasure?”
“What?” Natto nearly jumped out of his boots, then remembered his presumed errand. “Alas, no. The man is an eccentric, to be sure, but there was nothing to collect, tax-wise.”
“Sorry,” she said. “I seem to have sent you on a fool’s errand.”
“It is a frequent part of my job. I’ll be heading back to the capital as soon as I gather up my things.” He turned toward the stairs.
“Wait,” she said. She put down her pen. “The least I can do is wrap up some bread and cheese for your journey. Perhaps one last ale—for the road?”
It was a long ride, and his wineskin was nearly empty. “Thank you. That’s very kind.” He sat at one of the tables.
She fussed a bit with the tap, then set the tankard onto the wood in front of him. “I’ll make you up a lunch.” She went into the kitchen.
WHEN SHE HEARD the door open, Anna looked up from the chest in the corner of her laboratory. She folded her academic robes—the purple of St. Zatar’s—and replaced the horsehair mustache in the box with her other disguises. Her family had been fond of theatricals, and although St. Zatar’s now admitted women, there were traditionalists who disapproved, and she had often found it easier to navigate the campus as a gentleman scholar. She closed the lid of the chest and turned around. “Did he fall for it?”