They were accosted three more times before nightfall. The ruffians, bounty hunters, highwaymen, or whatever they called themselves, searched for a blond girl of eleven or twelve with a turned up nose. Each time she watched their eyes as they looked into the bed of the wagon but didn’t see her. The eyes went from one corner of it to another, and she broke out in a fear-induced sweat, trembling now and then. But in every search, they declared the wagon empty and the driver without anything of value to steal until one found the copper coin and took it, much to the chagrin of the Knight.
Hannah carefully watched her new ‘uncle’ at the repeated stops. His face flushed, and his fingers curled into fists. The answers Sir James provided them grew shorter and sharper.
The following morning three more groups stopped the wagon as it drew nearer to the palace. The searches grew intense. In the morning, Hannah had stood under Sir James’ outstretched hand as he sprinkled the last of the ‘no-see-me’ powder over her. She climbed back into the wagon, tired, upset, and scared.
She counted on her fingers the number of times they stopped, and the attempts of highwaymen to stop them. If every road held as many seeking to earn the reward for her head, there must be hundreds of people trying to find her. The gold offered must be a treasure.
She said, “I’m getting angry.”
“Tired?”
“No, angry. Not so much at the people trying to find me, but the person behind all this. The Young Mage working for the Earl is not responsible, if not behind it, but he’s not paying others to do his work, someone else is.”
“I knew you were smart, little girl, but not that smart. Men seeking gold for your head is just trying to earn wages for them, high wages, but still just coins. The person paying for your head is the one you and I seek.” Sir James clucked his tongue to make the mule move faster, but it acted as if it didn’t notice the pace remained the same slow slog as the previous day.
She rode in silence, thinking about what he’d said. Then, without warning, she blurted, “We would never have made it without the confusion grapes, and the no-see-me powder from the sorceress.”
“We’d have made it, but not riding in a wagon,” he paused. “It may have taken longer and men would have died.”
“What are you thinking?” she asked, confused at his statement.
He glanced around making sure they were still alone. “I think I’d have realized the danger and taken you to a safe place to hide out for a month or so. If any of them sniffed around, I’d have fought. After about a month the excitement of locating you would die down and slipping into the Palace become a possibility.”
“I should have paid attention to the sorceress and how she made her spells.”
“It wouldn’t have helped. You’re a mage, not a sorceress.”
Hannah drew in a deep breath. “Meaning that no matter how hard I try I can’t make the spells she did?”
“Unless you are more than we know, and you are the first to be both a mage and sorceress, the answer is, no. They are like fire and water. You can’t mix the two magics. The sorceress deals with earthly compounds, extracts of plants combined to create her magic, along with predictions, sometimes both at the same time, as in a love potion.”
“And a mage is different, but I still don’t see how. Both are magic.”
“Think of a mage as a ‘changer.' A mage does not do trickery. He simply makes things change, if that can be called simple. He is a transformer of things. He draws power from one place and moves it to another.”
“Remember, I’m only eleven.”
He nodded. “I stand corrected. Let me try again. Suppose you want to be warmer and you have dry wood. You build a fire, right?”
“With my finger?”
“No, it does not matter how you do it for my example. You build a fire with the wood, and it creates warmth. Understand?”
“So far.”
“Good. Now think about what happens to the wood.”
“It burned, silly.”
“That’s the easy answer. The mage sees it transformed from wood to warmth. Ashes are the leftover, but to him the wood is transformed from one thing to another.”
The wagon rumbled on as Hannah thought about his example. Another band of thieves delayed them for a few questions, but behind rolled another wagon and the delay was short so the two thieves could rush to inspect the other, more prosperous appearing wagon.
Picking up the conversation again, Hannah said, “Anyone can burn a piece of wood.”
“Right you are. Now I’d like to make that mule move a little faster, but I have no whip. Do you see that little piece of straw stuck to his left rear leg?”
“I do.”
“A good mage would transform that straw by lighting it on fire. The mule would feel the burn and snap awake, hopefully walking faster.”
“But a sorceress would cast a spell telling the mule a good meal is waiting just over the crest of the next hill. Same effect, just different ways to do it. I think I’m beginning to see.”
“There are more people approaching the palace, and the road will soon begin filling with people. They’ll notice if I’m talking to you, or think me crazy and talking to myself. Either way, talking will attract unwanted attention. If you take a short nap, you’ll wake with the palace in sight.”
Hannah sat up and placed a hand on his shoulder. She spoke into his ear, “Will it be beautiful?”
He nodded.
“Will the King be glad to see me?”
He whispered, barely moving his lips, “Yes and no. He was a great friend of your father. He will be sad to hear of his death. He’ll be thrilled to meet you.”
“Will I like it there?”
“Some of it. The beginning of your life there will be hard, and there will be things you will not like, but you will find interesting people, and there is much to learn.”
“Some people won’t like me.”
“It won’t be you. It will be your assumption of power. In time they will like you.”
Hannah adjusted herself in the hay and watched the nearby farms roll past. A farmer waved, and she waved back before realizing he couldn’t see her. She said, “One of those who won’t like me may die.”
“Don’t speak of killing. You’re far too young,” Sir James said from the corner of his mouth.
“I was talking about you, not me. You are going to kill the man who sent them after us and killed my father.”
“In that case, you are correct, at least one will die, and soon. If I find out who ordered your father’s death, he will die that very day. Or she. From my experience, women are more dangerous than men.”
“Someday I will be a dangerous woman.”
He said softly, “Someday you may be the most dangerous of women. But right now, I told you to be quiet. Look up ahead and soon you’ll catch a glimpse of the King’s Palace.”
Hannah watched the trees beside the road, some new varieties to her. The approaching wagons hauled farm produce, animals for sale, and other goods. The people dressed much as the Knight in his farmer clothing, but most were cleaner and looked more prosperous. A carriage pulled by a beautiful black horse drew near. A driver dressed in orange sat up in front, and two young women faced each other inside the carriage, chatting and giggling as the carriage passed the peasants.
Sir James half-turned his face away from them. The dark-haired girl glanced his way, then away and started to speak again. Then she stopped, turned and looked closer, but the carriage rolled beyond and soon she was whispering and giggling again.
“She knew you?”
“Yes,” he said.
“I don’t think she recognized you, though.”