When he wouldn’t finish that thought, she did. “Killed?”
Wynn was surprised by how much that notion unsettled her. Brot’an joining their cause had been a mixed blessing. Certainly neither Chap nor Leesil would mourn his loss, but still, the aging greimasg’äh—“shadow-gripper”—had more than once fought his own caste to defend Magiere. His very presence in the past had often given Wynn a greater sense of security, plus ...
Well, she liked him. She couldn’t help it.
“Perhaps he was not with them when they were taken,” Osha added.
“Then why hasn’t he rescued them by now?” she countered.
She couldn’t think of a good reason, and Osha didn’t offer one. If anyone could break Magiere and the others out of prison by stealth or force, it was Brot’an. And if he hadn’t—couldn’t—then ...
Oh, she didn’t want to think what that could mean.
“Wait,” Osha whispered.
Wynn froze, looking about.
“The smallest market we passed last night is around the corner, ahead to the left.”
Wynn exhaled in sudden tension and turned to him.
“Move quickly through the market,” Osha instructed, “and do not linger to be noticed.”
Perhaps she was a little overly annoyed at his unnecessary caution. “Between the two of us, you’re the one who’s going to get noticed! There are not many overly tall, white-blond elves wandering around here.”
“That is why I will not be with you.”
Wynn paused in confusion, and he went on before she could.
“Shade should go with me as well,” he added.
“What?”
“The two of us, together, will draw all eyes. This is also why I asked you to leave your robe and staff behind. You will pass unnoticed, or at least unremembered. Anyone in a midnight blue sage’s robe would be sought for questioning ... after whatever the domin has done.”
For an instant, Wynn was again at a loss for words. Osha almost sounded like Brot’an, and that made her uncomfortable, no matter how much she might like the elder shadow-gripper. And perhaps Osha knew it, for he lowered his eyes, not looking at her anymore.
“What good is it for me to pass unnoticed if you are?” she countered. “We’re all going to have to go out in the open eventually. You will stick out no matter what or when.”
Osha sighed and raised his eyes. “When I am alone, if I wish, I have ... can ... pass unnoticed to most.”
She didn’t like that any better, though this sounded lonely more than anything else. It made her ache inside. Before she said more, Osha stripped off a short rope around his waist, hidden beneath his tunic’s lower half, and crouched before Shade.
“May I ... please?” he asked her, holding out a loop at the rope’s end.
Shade looked up at Wynn and then back at Osha. With a wrinkle of her jowls, she huffed once at him. Osha slipped the loop around Shade’s neck and rose up, still looking at the dog.
“If you would perhaps make yourself ... noticed ... when we pass through?” he asked, closing his eyes briefly and bowing his head to Shade.
Shade grumbled but huffed consent, but Wynn was a little put out. Obviously Osha had thought this through long before saying anything. It was even more off-putting that Shade went along so easily.
“Stay to the outside stalls,” Osha instructed Wynn. “And if—when—others turn to look, do not do so. We will meet you where the market reaches the next cross street, and we will keep sight of you at all times.”
With that, he walked off toward the corner, though Shade trotted ahead to the end of the makeshift leash.
Wynn stood there, still fuming. She was so tired of those around her treating her like ... like she was made of glass! No matter how many times she put them in their place, they just kept doing it.
With a low hiss, she took off for the corner but paused long enough to peek around it. So much the worse, for she spotted Shade and Osha strolling right between the small tents, carts, and makeshift stalls. And worse again, because people did turn to stare at a tall elf with a bow strung over one shoulder and a huge black wolf on a rope leash.
Wynn ceased watching and slipped along the street side, looking for anything they could bring back to eat. From one outer stall to the next, she paused in searching among what was offered. She slowly filled a burlap sack with plump dates, apricots, flat bread, a brick of cheese, and dried goat’s meat. She moved along swiftly in her shopping and, thankfully, also found two leather-capped clay urns of fresh water.
Soon she reached the little market street’s far end.
When she looked about and peered down the left run of the next main street, she didn’t spot either Osha or Shade until she heard Shade’s low huff. Looking the other way to the side street’s far corner, there they were. Both barely peeked around the corner watching her. She hurried across but pulled up short at what she saw in Osha’s hand ... instead of on his shoulder.
The bow.
Wynn went straight to him. At least he hadn’t pulled an arrow and fitted it. He slipped the bow back to his shoulder, took her burdens without asking, and insisted on carrying them for her.
“Oh, come on ... both of you!” she whispered.
Not long after, they returned to the end of that upper passage and Ghassan’s secret chambers. Wynn lost her annoyance staring at the false window that looked out over the street. Getting back inside the hideaway was something she hadn’t done yet on her own. The domin had given her something rather strange to do so.
He had handed her a small stone, the size of a pebble.
Though accustomed to various esoteric tools of metaologers, Wynn had never heard of anything quite like this. Remembering his instructions on how to use the pebble, she dug it out of her coin pouch. It looked like any other she might have picked up off the ground. It was supposed to be used only “just in case.” None of them was supposed to leave until he returned ... unless absolutely necessary.
Well, food was necessary.
From what Ghassan had told her, all she was supposed to do was grip the pebble tightly in her hand until it hurt a little. That it was a pebble instead of something more obvious—more arcane-looking—made her doubt grow.
“Have you tried?” Osha asked from behind. “Do you see the door?”
“No, not yet,” she muttered, and stepped closer to the passage’s end.
One thing she wasn’t going to do was stick her hand through that false window first ... and see it go through, the way Chane had. Nor was she going to use her mantic sight to see the element of Spirit and, if she could, whatever had been done to the end of this passage. Chane hadn’t needed to warn her off from that. It might cost her more than peeking through the wall and getting sick.
“Wynn ... do you wish me to do this?” Osha whispered.
“No.” She gripped the pebble tightly in her hand, until the pressure hurt. That little wave of pain changed everything before her eyes.
The shadow overlay of the door’s frame appeared in the end wall. Its wooden planks were ... ghosts of planks across the view through the window. Low to one side, near the window frame’s bottom left corner, was a plain iron handle with no keyhole in its mount plate, as if locking that door was unnecessary.
And apparently, it was.
Before Chane had retired, they’d stepped aside to speak in private. She’d asked what he’d felt when he inspected the passage’s end, after Ghassan had vanished through it. Chane said he’d felt nothing but the wall and the window.
Exactly what kind of magic could hide something from touch as well as sight?
This was more than an illusion constructed through thaumaturgy and light.
Wynn hesitated as her free hand hovered near that semitransparent iron handle. Then she grabbed it. The handle felt as solid as if fully there. With a quick twist on the handle, she shoved the door open.