“You were? I don’t remember any incident.”
“Perhaps it was so everyday to you. But these knights, they said awful things.”
“I really don’t remember. Did they shove us or hurt us…? But I would probably remember.”
“One of them jumped down from his saddle and walked his horse to you, and then, well, I didn’t hear all he said, but he laughed and tried to grab your friend by the hair…actually, did, too, except that you fended him off and tripped him to the ground. I was ready to send my guards down to the yard to break up your fight.” Lyria whisked with her hands, backstepping, “I mean, to help you out and fend them off. But you fought him down. And then?” Her eyes gleamed.
“Then what…?”
“You cast the most spicy spells! The man had to brush himself off, embarrassed, and apologize to you and your friend. And his friends were coughing and calling him back all silenced, too. I had my hands on my mouth, giggling, on my balcony. You were awesome, just fantastic. I loved it. I asked my staff to know your name. So I actually already knew it and remembered you, when you appeared on my staff. And seriously, as a chambermaid? Chambermaid! So unfitting! Shouldn’t you be a wizard? And on the other hand, so fitting, too, as you’re so sweet and calm and amiable, and you look so content, smiling all the time…But it was what I saw in the yard that day. I’ve thought we’ve shared a special understanding. A bond. Even though we didn’t speak all that much at first. I didn’t want to bring up something like that. To make it awkward. Or anything.”
Chapter 7
The old man pulled his bony hands through his wiry, gray wisp of a beard and went back to his counter, where he bowed out of sight, going through his drawers. Over his narrow body hung a heavy wool cape, which he wore tied tightly at the waist and carefully buttoned up all the way to his chin, even in the warmth of his medicine shoppe. I my opinion, it was quite warm and cozy inside. His eyes were gleaming with, I imagined, the fervor of knowing all these powerful, secret healing spells.
“I wonder…” he began, walking out with a vial in his hand, raised to the light of the chandelier hung from the ceiling. He studied it against the light for a moment, then returned to his desk and storage drawers again and fumbled about, frowning and mumbling to himself, until he picked something new, a glass bottle, and came back with it — and turned around to take it back. Finally he returned with a pouch of dried leaves.
“Hard, treating fae venom wounds, isn’t it?” Lyria said, sounding understanding.
The old man gave her a grave look and, twisting his mouth apprehensively, made his beard twitch. “Very. It is not often I see people healing from wounds from fae, at all. It’s not necessarily to be expected.”
“But you have done it?”
“Twice, thrice…But the wounds have to be extremely superficial. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“I understand,” Lyria said, but her serious gaze went to Alesso, who was lying down on a blanket on the floor with his eyes closed and didn’t overtly react to anything said. Hadn’t, for the past two hours we had spent here.
Alesso’s eyes had been open for a while, at first, and he had taken in the shelves and baskets of medicines surrounding us, but laid back to rest, and nothing dramatic had happened anymore, so I assumed he was simply resigning himself to rest and await the verdict, treatment, or possible medicine.
The old man rushed to his stacks of potions and medicines again and kept huffing and sighing out loud. He didn’t seem to manage to find what he needed.
Lyria gave me a silent look and, once again at the most unexpected moment, took hold of my hand with her soft fingertips, briefly.
“Shouldn’t be long,” she said.
“He’s good?” I said, to say something, and cleared my throat.
“I don’t know him well, but I’ve heard enough to know that there’s a wizard in this town. That’s all. But I guess that’s something. A wizard is a wizard.”
“You have magic,” I pointed out, and I didn’t mean to pressure her to talk about it or anything like that, or whatever she might assume, but the words came out like that.
She pulled a breath and sighed out as if this was a question people always harassed her with and she’d grown weary. “Yes, I do, but it’s natural Fae magic. It can be unpredictable and…” She hesitated. “Too strong.”
“Really? Isn’t that good?” I offered. “No?”
“Yes, provided it’s strong where you want it to be. Mine is like an accidental flame, it’s hard for me to tell it where to go.” Then she made a meaningful gesture toward the old man, who was still fussing and looking all lost in the world of his dusty bottles. “But now, hush…”
Alesso groaned from the blanket. He was squinting, looking at us.
“Wait,” Lyria suddenly said in a sharp, loud voice, the word cutting in the silence. All tensed up, she looked all around the room. “Where is the shop boy? The apprentice boy?”
The wizard’s face reacted. Even though I wasn’t sure what was going on, from the look on his face, it was perfectly clear there was something off about this. Something very off. Lyria was right.
“Will you treat him, though?” Lyria asked the old man. Again, his face seemed to answer more than his words. He looked like a decent man, but very scared all of a sudden.
“Come on, let’s go,” Lyria said sharply to me. “Back to the mountain slopes, same way we came. Let’s get out of here.”
I threw Alesso a glance as I started walking, but he had his eyes closed, looking absent, asleep.
The old man was yelling after us, as we slammed the door and dashed out to the yard.
Chapter 8
As we pushed ourselves up over the rocky ledge, I could finally see over the edge to the other side valley we’d left behind earlier, before coming to the wizard’s shoppe. It was not all that far below, merely two hundred yards below. Then my heart fell. A dozen men on horses, dangling chains in their hands and equipped with spears, were advancing on the gravel road leading up to the town we’d just escaped. It looked like we had gotten out in the nick of time.
“That’s King Taramon’s men,” Lyria said. “They’re wearing Taramon’s colors.”
“How do you think they got the word so quickly?”
“Oh, Milla! Don’t jump to conclusions. Could be a number of reasons they’re here,” Lyria said with a frustrated gesture. “This might only be some of his knights, a scout patrol, and they might happen to be here by chance. Or maybe the apprentice boy ran to tell someone, perhaps at the tavern, perhaps elsewhere. Perhaps someone then hurried from the tavern to Galandea on horseback to tell Taramon, and Taramon sent his men. Horses do make the distance in no time at all, half an hour I would imagine. We’re not that far from Galandea, though on foot, it might seem that way.”
“Lyria, I’m sorry if I said something wrong, but why are you so on edge?”
“I’m sorry. It’s just…None of this should be any surprise. We need to be more careful. Let’s stay more cautious.”