No, it could not be a coincidence. Those intent on killing her had closed in, and if she had stayed in the palace another night, it would have been her last. The cold anger had not ceased. If anything, it turned from cold to a revengeful flaming rage.
She now had priorities in her life. First, she would learn all that Sir James had spoken of, reading, writing, history, and court etiquette. But she would also learn the art of being a mage from her father and his writings and library, but that would come later. Before that, she would learn from the sorceress; the woman called Evelyn.
No, there was one other subject she needed to learn. Sir James had promised to teach her to fight. She had gold in her purse, along with a few silver coins. But one gold coin could buy a large building or a small farm with all the animals. She had five or six gold coins, at least. A single silver bought two good horses and was more than most men ever owned in their lifetimes. Her purse overflowed with them and hung heavy.
The day was growing late. She climbed a steep hill and found a small perch where she could watch the entire valley for anybody approaching. She had run out of tears long ago. She pulled the drawstrings on her purse and spilled coins onto her blanket. There were more than she thought.
She placed the smallest two silver coins into the bag she carried her food. If stopped by robbers or highwaymen, she decided to clutch the bag to her chest so hard they would have to rip her fingers loose, while she screamed there was nothing in the bag. If she screamed and wailed long enough, and fought hard enough, they would take the bag and find the silver and think that was all she had.
Or maybe not. She still needed a safe place to carry the larger silver coins and the gold. Instead of at her waist, as was the usual place to carry a purse, she moved it to the front of her baggy pants and let it hang inside there. She made a small hole in the front of the waistband to tie the purse to her pants and stood. It felt odd bouncing and swinging in front, but Hannah smiled at the thought that no highwayman was going to search a boy there.
She would give up a gold coin for a proper teacher, one who would teach her to not only defend herself, but also how to do damage to anyone attempting to harm her. When she returned to the King’s Palace, she needed to protect herself with confidence.
She slept on a little shelf on the hillside wrapped in a blanket without a fire. In the damp of the morning before the sun came up, she was walking parallel to the road again. She kept her eyes ahead but also listened. A flutter of birds would send her running, but she heard the songs they sang, and crickets chirped. The leaves rustled.
Later, in the distance, she heard the clang, clang, clang of a blacksmith hammering out a rhythm on his anvil. She remembered the knife Sir James gave her, and that she left in his apartment because it was not decent for a lady to wear such a knife with a dress.
The sounds of the blacksmith grew. She paused at the edge of a tiny village, no more than six buildings, two of them being barns for animals. At the rear of one barn had been built a second roof, that extended beyond the first. It was open on three sides. She had expected a huge, muscular man but found a short, squat man with thin arms. But he hammered the iron in a steady beat that displayed his strength more than flashy upper arms.
His body was streaked with soot, as were his clothes. She couldn’t tell if his hair was naturally black or just looked like it. His bare upper body glistened in the heat of the forge. The road went through the center of the hamlet, on the other side of the barn with the blacksmith. If Hannah approached him, she’d be protected from sight from others traveling on the road.
Before she could make up her mind, his head lifted, and he looked directly at her. Hannah stood still, but intuition told her he had seen her. Then, as if he’d made his mind up, he made a small gesture with his hand that told her to come closer.
She moved into the open but remained ready to spin and rush back into the forest. The short, strong man probably couldn’t begin to keep up with her, and that gave her the confidence to speak. “The road is dangerous. Do you have a small knife that will fit my hand?”
He turned and opened a cabinet. From inside, he lifted a tray and tilted it to show her it held knives. “You can’t see them from over there, but I have a few that may satisfy you.”
She took a few steps closer, careful to keep the large work table between them. “Let me see them.”
He held one up for display, but kept it in his hand instead of offering it to her. “Do you have a coin or something to trade? Or are you just wishing to look at a good knife?”
Hannah had already pulled the two silver coins from her bag and had them concealed in her palm. She fingered the smallest and held it up.
His eyes grew wary. “Are you planning on buying all the knives I have?”
“This is my only coin,” she lied as she slipped the other back into her bag.
He rubbed his beard and shrugged. “If you will trust me to hold your silver, I can cut it into slivers with my chisel if we make a deal.”
“And you will trust me to look at your knives while you do it.”
He selected three weapons, all of smaller size, and laid them on the table, two beside each other and one apart. “If I cut your coin into four equal pieces, you can own any two of these for one piece of silver.”
The two knives he had placed together were small, undecorated, yet looked utilitarian and of good quality. The blades curved slightly, especially near the tip, and the handles were wrapped with shrunk leather. The third knife clearly was different by more than its location. It was flat, the blade straight and sharp on both edges, and pointed at the tip. The bare handle appeared no thicker than the blade with no leather or decoration, a single continuous piece of blackened metal, a thing of beauty in its simplicity. “You placed two of them together. Why?”
“They are much the same knife, a favorite design that sells well. Your choice, as either will serve you for regular fare. But you mentioned the road being dangerous, and it is. Wear the last blade in a scabbard on your back, where you can reach it with either hand. It has one use only. Defense.”
“I like that. Do you have a scabbard?”
“It’s included in the price, but I will warn you. If your father or another come my way demanding the piece of silver back, he will find me determined to keep it. I do not perform business with children as a rule, but I think you may need a knife—and perhaps basic instruction in how to use it.”
Hannah considered his words and set aside his sharp, angry tone. The man treated her as a customer, not a child, and for that, she needed to respect his gruff manner. “All for the same price?”
“A fourth of your silver is too much to charge, but cutting it smaller isn’t practical. I will allow you to choose which of the four pieces to pay me.” He waited for her to nod her agreement, then continued, “Normally I’d melt the silver and only take from you the true value of the knives, but with the roads crawling with men searching for a girl about your age, and the rumor she is Royalty. I risk the ire of people searching for her if they find I helped her in any way.”
Hannah heard him stress the word, girl. “How did you know?”
“The stains on your skin around your hairline tell me you dyed your hair, and the cut is poor. I suggest you gather soot from the base of my forge and powder it around your hairline to hide the dye.”
“You are not interested in the reward?” Hannah asked, ready to sprint away if she didn’t like his answer. Moving closer to the blacksmith was not possible until he answered the question.