Then he turned toward Jeka.
Her eyes widened, and she began to tremble. Kharl took her hand.
“No!” she screamed, struggling to get away from the staff.
Kharl pressed the staff to the hand he held.
Hsssttt! The hissing sound was almost like water on a red-hot iron blank.
Jeka collapsed like a street-show marionette whose strings had been cut, and Kharl had to struggle to hold her one-handed, while he set aside the black staff. Then he propped her form into a half-sitting position against the stone wall. The hand that had touched the staff was reddened, as if it had been slightly burned. Yet the staff had not been that hot to Kharl’s touch.
Did white and black magic always react that way?
“Ohhh…” Jeka looked up, eyes darting around. “What…”
“How much do you remember?”
“There was a white flash, then…” She shook her head. Tears seeped from the corners of her eyes. “I would have done anything anyone told me.”
“That was what he wanted.”
“But…won’t they come after us?”
“The bodyguard won’t.”
“You killed him.”
“I didn’t mean to.” Kharl thought about his words, then added. “No. He felt so evil that I had to. Except I really wasn’t thinking that then.” His actions still confused him.
“Won’t the wizard come after us for that?” Jeka shivered.
“He might,” Kharl conceded. “But it’s raining, and it’s hard to track people in the rain, even with dogs. He didn’t see me, I don’t think.” He paused. “You have any other hiding places?”
“They’re not very good. This is the only really good one.”
“Then, we’d better stay here. We’ll have to be very careful when we go out. And I’m coming with you.”
“Guess…guess you’d better.” The faint tears still oozed from the corners of Jeka’s eyes.
Kharl didn’t have any idea what he could say to make her feel better.
All that because he’d been hungry.
XXXII
Kharl’s stomach had gone well beyond empty and painful by dawn five mornings later, after four days of weather ranging from mist to rain so heavy that it had fallen in walls of icy water. He was sore and stiff because only a small area of the poorly roofed hiding space had remained usable-and that had been damp. When the sun finally rose on a cold and clear oneday, the cloudless sky and bright morning sunlight did little to cheer him. Nor did it ease his aching muscles and empty belly.
Jeka finally crawled out of her cubby, yawning. “Need to sleep when you can. Sleep more, and you don’t need to eat so much.”
“Could be.”
“Least it’s oneday,” she offered. “Lower market’s good on oneday. ’Specially by afternoon.”
Before too long, she left, and after a few moments, Kharl followed, carrying his small wooden begging bowl. He had to be careful climbing the wall, because he felt a bit light-headed, but the walking, even at his affected hobble, cleared away some of the faintness.
The rain had washed away much of the stench from the rendering yard and from the tannery, and the cold breeze from the west brought a cleaner smell to Brysta. It wouldn’t last that long, Kharl knew, but it helped as he hobbled down Copper Road, trailing Jeka by a good half block, when he could even see her elusive form.
He continued to plead, “A copper, just a copper for a poor man…”
As usual, most of those on the street ignored Kharl the beggar either by walking past quickly or by avoiding him. He did get one copper in the battered wooden bowl.
The sun was a good quarter of the way up the eastern sky when Kharl paused on the rubble-strewn corner on the northeast side of the harbor, short of the slateyard. From there, he looked at the lower market with its tents, carts, and portable stalls. He didn’t see Jeka. He could see, except it was a feeling, more than a seeing, a patchy area of whiteness on the southern side of the open space that held the market.
Abruptly, and from nowhere, Jeka dashed from a cart and crossed the soggy ground between them. She stopped and extended a half loaf of bread. “Mamata gave it to me. She said she’d eaten some, and couldn’t eat any more and couldn’t sell it.”
Kharl took a bite of the heavy rye, and his mouth watered. He forced himself to hand the bread back to Jeka after another bite.
“I had more than that,” she said, refusing the bread.
Kharl didn’t argue. He took several more large mouthfuls, and within moments, he started to feel less light-headed. He handed the remaining bread to Jeka.
This time, she took the quarter loaf remaining and finished half of it, then gave the remainder back. He ate it, even licking the crumbs off his fingers.
“I need to see what else I can scrounge or get cheap,” she said.
“Stay away from the southern end,” he said.
Jeka looked at him.
“Just a feeling,” he said, not wanting to explain.
“I’ll be careful. Always am.”
“Be more careful,” he suggested. “Don’t know where that wizard might show up.”
“Here? Not likely.” Jeka laughed, then made her way back toward the carts and stalls.
Kharl followed. Even after the bread, his mouth watered as the scent of roasting fowl wafted around him. How long had it been since he’d sat at his own table and eaten fowl? And ale? And as much bread as he wanted?
He kept moving. Instead of staking out a space and sitting down, he hobbled around the harborside end of the market, occasionally pleading, extending the bowl. “A copper…just a copper for a poor man…”
Over the eightdays he’d been in hiding, he doubted that he’d collected more than nine or ten coppers, but his efforts made it easier to conceal the source of the coins he’d given to Jeka, not so much for her-she knew better-but from those with whom she dealt. He stopped and slumped, as if tired, but the slump was not all pose, not with the little he had eaten over the end-days.
Then he returned to walking and whining, “…copper…just a copper…”
As he neared the southwestern corner of the market, Kharl could see the patchy whitish fog more clearly, centered around a maroon-painted stall. He blinked, and the fog vanished. Was he seeing things because he was hungry? But the fog had become clearer after he’d eaten.
He limped and hobbled farther south, easing himself closer to the maroon stall, finally squatting near the rotten bollard section where he’d often placed himself.
“Copper…just a copper…” he mumbled, watching the stall where several youths, three girls, two women, and a tall man were gathered.
“Ooos” and “aahhs” came from the group.
“A few coins here, any coin,” came a voice, “and you’ll see what you’ve never seen.”
After a moment, a flare of bluish flame erupted from somewhere in front of the group, then vanished. It wasn’t flame, Kharl could tell, although he didn’t really know how he knew, but it looked like it, and everyone stepped back.
For a moment, Kharl caught a glimpse of the wizard, wearing a red cape. Behind and to the left of the wizard stood another man, almost identical to the bodyguard Kharl had killed-or had he killed the man outside the White Pony? Kharl swallowed. The wizard was the same man who had ensorceled Jeka. But what was he doing in the lower market? Looking for her? Kharl’s fingers tightened around his stick, a poor weapon against a wizard, but the only one he had. He kept watching, more aware of the whiteness that was not fog.
The small crowd once more drew nearer to the wizard.
“You see?” The wizard laughed. “All of you draw near, and you will see something truly special. Closer now…and who might have a coin? For miracles do not come without a price.” He laughed again, heartily.
Kharl shivered at the laughter, feeling something more behind it.
“A copper? Cannot someone add to it?” asked the wizard. “If not, you must step closer, for what marvels you will see will be smaller.”