Instinct told her to leap from the water and run. But the actions of the men gave her pause. If they looked at the pool, they would surely see her. They didn’t. Their eyes went all around the forest, looking first one way and then another.
The first time she had been here Evelyn had mentioned nobody had ever found the tree because of spells she, and those before her set. She was reminded of the no-see-me spell when she rode in the wagon in plain sight, and nobody looked at her. She had not turned invisible; the sorceress had convinced everyone not to look at her. The two men she watched acted much the same. If she ran, they might see her, or hear her.
They moved carefully and slowly until they were only twenty paces from her. She held her breath and tensed, ready to spring away, but they angled off and followed the stream. She watched until they disappeared into the depths of the forest and relaxed in ways she hadn’t for days. They hadn’t seen the pink dots floating in the air, and had never once looked directly at the tree.
Back inside the workspace, she unrolled the scroll and dipped her quill to make her first J. The crow flew back and landed, already calling out the name and the sound of the letter before its feet gripped the dowel. She worked on penmanship and learning the letters and sounds for most of the afternoon and then again in the early evening, but her hand was so tired and cramped so fast that she could only make a few strokes at a time after a while. Between learning, she went to her tree and threw her knife at Treeman.
The following morning, she found she already knew K and N, so she made her first lopsided O. Another crow flew inside the tree and landed beside the first. It peered at her and said in Evelyn’s voice, “A mage has arrived in our village.”
Nothing else. But that message said it all. The bird repeated the message three times, then flew away. A mage. If that were normal Evelyn wouldn’t have sent a message, so it must be unusual—and dangerous. It might be a few more days before the sorceress could return to the tree, but Hannah had left her enough food for days and days. Still, Hannah decided to eat less until Evelyn returned.
What would a mage be doing in a small, remote village if not searching for her? If one searched here, there were sure to be others searching villages farther away, and probably still more in town and the Palace. Wait! How many mages existed? In her lifetime she had seen two, the Young Mage at the Earl’s Castle and her father.
If mages were that rare, the appearance of one at the small village took on more importance. Could he believe her to be close? Has she made a mistake and led him here?
Hannah put those thoughts aside because they could not be answered. Instead, she attacked her studies with renewed resolve, but found she had forgotten F and confused C with K. Instead of getting easier; the task of learning became more complicated as she added new letters. She had to pause in her work so the crow could search for food. Then she wondered why she didn’t place a bowl of it near the bird, along with water for it to drink.
She didn’t like the crow. It made squawks that had nothing to do with letters, scaring her at times and confusing her at others. It made messes on the table below the perch until she moved the table, thinking that was a good idea. The messes then fell to the floor and were harder to clean, so she shoved the table back.
Most of all, she didn’t like the stupid bird correcting her every time she named a letter wrong or made the wrong sound. The bird could be the offspring of the nasty woman in the morning kitchen who cooked the hard bread for the slaves. It was the first time she had thought of the morning kitchen in a couple of days. The memories were already fading. Hannah didn’t know if that was good or not. She didn’t like her early life, of course, but did she wish to forget it?
By the time she started printing the Z on the fourth day, her mind churned when she thought of all the letters. Each time she went back to the beginning she knew the first five or six, then problems arose, and the crow started shouting at her. But she was on the last letter and knew that going over them time after time would forever fix them in her mind. The hardest part was over.
But the crows message about the mage in the village kept haunting her thoughts. If Evelyn thought it so important that she took the time and risk to send a message, it must be so, and rare. Then Hannah remembered the Young Mage at the Earl’s Castle watching her. There had been something about his eyes, his expression, and the intentness that had made her ill at ease that day, and she avoided places she might encounter him until she left.
Had he been threatening? Or, had he known or sensed something in her? Or somehow marked her so he could follow? Was that even possible? The coincidence in her father arriving at the castle and the Young Mage’s attention couldn’t have been an accident. He knew something about her. She would bet the mage in the village was him.
He was a mage, after all. He possessed magical powers, if a grade or two lower than her father, but magic all the same. Had he used it to follow her? If he had, would Evelyn’s spells to hide her workshop from people also hide it from him? Were the two hunters who nearly found her bathing in the pool sent by the mage?
The questions filled her mind so full that making a simple Z became more than she could concentrate on. She stood, stretched and went to kill the Treeman another hundred times by throwing her knife. Instead of simply throwing it, she now added difficulty. With the knife in the scabbard, she walked past the tree as if strolling in a park, pulled and threw. Next, she waited, hands limply at her sides, for a leaf to touch the ground before pulling and throwing. She spun and threw. She varied the situation and made the throws time after time.
She seldom missed anymore. Always from the same distance, the same grip on the knife, the same throwing motion. Repeatedly. One throw accounted for one raised finger on her left hand. Five perfect throws, then five more. She waited for the next bird in the forest to chirp and threw, almost before the sound disappeared.
The bark on the tree showed the slashes where the knife had landed, overlapping and eventually so many the bark fell off the tree leaving a pale yellow circle the size of a man’s chest. Above and below were her near misses. She drew a round face on the tree with white powder, then drew two ink dots for eyes. They were the dark eyes of the Young Mage.
Her statistics for throwing improved, as did her speed and velocity. Three times that morning she went outside and threw the knife until her arm hurt, then went inside and worked on the letters again. Drawing each evenly across the page, she called out the name and sounds of each. The crow mercifully remained quiet.
It’s always best to have a plan. If more people came around hunting her, she decided to go to the farm where they had ‘bought’ the horses and take her coins with her. She started packing the leather bag under her dress in case she needed to flee. Since Sir James died, she felt she inherited the debt owed to the family that had helped them by giving them horses. Perhaps they could tell her where to hide next. But first, came the debt she owed.
If she did not have to flee, and things calmed down, she would talk to Evelyn and explain why she had to travel there, and maybe they could go together. Again the thought of the Young Mage entered her mind unbiddenly. If it was another mage in the village, she could rest easier. But if it was the one who watched her, she had reason to be scared. The problem was in knowing and suspecting.
She ‘felt’ another mind touch hers. Not directly, but searching and the gentle, quick ‘touch’ moved on. It hadn’t recognized her—or perhaps it had. She waited for another mental touch, and if it lingered she would leave.