"Sean," he said. "You will move about among the other stalls seeking to buy the freshest food they have to offer. My tastes are simple with no strong preferences, so choose the varieties Declan and yourself prefer. While you have done that, move about in the crowd and speak of me in a loud but confidential voice, as if you were excited and imparting great secrets, about the accomplishments of the great magician and soothsayer who has come among them. You already know well what to do, so please do it once again.
"Declan," he went on, "your hearing is keen and your movements fast. You I would like to stand at a distance, but ready in case one of the visitors to my stall offers me violence. Make it appear that you are adjusting items of your equipment or some such ruse so that it will it seem that your attention is elsewhere. This is because some of the people who will come to me may wish to discuss matters that are confidential, and it would save them embarrassment if you did not appear to be listening."
"I understand," said Declan, turning to take up the position assigned. "I will view each of them briefly on their approach, in case one appears ready to make a sudden attack on you, otherwise I shall listen only for what I judge to be threats against you, then act accordingly."
Without further speech, Ma'el began to arrange the collection of charms, small carvings, and strangely shaped roots on top of his bench.
The first to take an interest in the stall were two youths, clean and fresh of feature, who were a few inches taller than Sean, deeper-voiced, and with the look of brothers born within a year of each other, or they might even have been twins. Their clothing was plain, well-fashioned, clean, and bore no signs of the stains and wear of recent toil so it was likely, Declan thought, that it was rich parents who had toiled to provide the garments for them. They paused at a distance that they must have considered was beyond earshot to talk together when they were not trying to push each other forward or breaking off to giggle nervously like a pair of immature colleens.
"A good day to you, young men," said Ma'el in a voice just loud enough to carry the distance to them. "In what manner may I assist you?"
The one who seemed to be older, by a year or perhaps only a few moments, came closer with his brother a pace behind him.
"You are a wizard?" he said. "A purveyor of charms and potions that… that would cause others to change their feelings toward me?"
"Of course," said Ma'el, dipping his head. His next words were a statement rather than a question. "You desire of me a love potion."
The timid brother edged forward. "It, it must be a true love potion," he said in a nervous voice. "There must be enough for both of us to use. We will recompense you, but it must not be a phial of colored water."
Ma'el ignored the insult. "Let me comprehend your situation correctly," he said. "Have you each a single object of desire or…" he hesitated in what might have been mild disapproval,"… do both of you desire no specific object in particular?"
The brothers looked at each other for a moment, then the second one stammered, "We each… They are sisters, but they won't even…"
"… talk to us…" the other joined in, "at least, not for more than a few moments. They say that we're unmannerly, impetuous gossoons who…"
"Good," Ma'el broke in. "Whenever possible 1 prefer not to cater to persons who want to shake a tree for whatever fruit chances to fall out. A potion that will bring you true love, that I can provide."
He had their complete attention as he went on, "But for the greatest efficacy it must be supported and sustained by your own actions and words, and the manner in which you converse when next you meet them. Remember that you are young men, not impatient and impetuous and unmannerly boys, and you should not act or speak as if you were. My words are for each of you. Be slow and gentle in your approach, listen rather than trying constantly to impress with a braggart's speech, and instead try to relate interesting rather than boastful things about yourself, and invite her to do the same about her family, friends, life, and future hopes. Above all be unselfish and patient but very persistent. The potion will make her see that you are a serious, responsible, and thoughtful young man who knows what he wants in life and who may already have found it and, if such be the case, one who will work with patience and consideration to achieve his goal. Follow these instructions with care and perseverance, young men, for this is how the potion of true love will work for you."
He reached down to a small wicker basket at his feet, opened it and withdrew two small flasks containing a deep purple liquid with traces of a black sediment at the bottom, which he shook vigorously before he placed them on top of his bench. The brothers stared at them, silent and serious. The first brother cleared his throat.
'The liquid is a strange color," he said. "In water will it show? Has it a taste? How and when should it be given to them?"
"Regrettably, the taste is truly vile, and lingering," Ma'el replied, "and it is not to be given to them. Instead, you will each take it as soon as is convenient before your next meeting with these young women. Place a few drops on your tongues and allow them to remain there for as long as possible without swallowing. The lingering taste will serve to remind you of my other words to you, which are an important and continuing part of the very powerful spell that accompanies this potion."
Ma'el gave a small nod to indicate that the consultation was over and watched as the first brother placed a coin on the bench before him. He continued to look at it without expression until the other had added three more coins before he gave another small nod, this time of dismissal.
As they were leaving, Sean returned carrying a large sack in each hand. He was still looking at their departing backs when Declan joined him to help put away the foodstuffs.
'Those two looked as if they were having deep and serious thoughts," he said. "1 wonder what Ma'el told them. And Declan, you look angry. What has happened? What's wrong with you?"
Declan knew that he looked angry, but his anger was not directed at the old man or the boy or even at himself. It was simply that for the first time in many years he was thinking of what his life might have been like if his father had talked to him with the same sympathy and consideration and good sense as Ma'el had shown to those two young men, and he was angry because his only parent had never at any time done so. He shook his head.
"Nothing," he said, pulling his lips into something like a smile, "nothing but an unpleasing childhood memory."
When they had transferred the food into the wagon's exterior storage boxes and draped them in wet cloths to keep the contents fresh, Declan and the boy withdrew to the position and distance stipulated by Ma'el. There they kept watch on the stall while making a pretense of talking together. But a passing listener, if there had been one, would have heard no words pass between them because they had nothing to say to each other not, that was, until the fat, capless, red-haired man with a deeply freckled face appeared.
"I like not his manner," said Sean in a quiet voice. "He moves toward Ma'el, but his eyes twitch about among the other wagons and stalls."
"Nor do I," Declan agreed, reaching back and sliding out his axe. "Your eyes are sharp, boy. That cape he wears is too short to conceal a sword, but there could be knives or cudgels in his belt Slowly and quietly, let us move closer."
"You're not going to use that frightful thing!" Sean protested, looking around him. "Not in the middle of a marketplace. Why is there never a Gardai about when you need one?"
Having already looked all around him and seen that nobody was paying him any attention, the red-haired man now had eyes only for Ma'el. He advanced toward the stall, smiling and loosening his cape. There was a moment's view of the knife and short-handled stone hammer that he carried.