Hannah sighed, the tears flowing freely. “Painted after they fought and lived apart. He still loved her.”
Sage gave her a hug as she said, “He probably took a hair from her brush or something. What a nice thing to find out about him. Someday when you feel up to it, I’d love to hear the story.”
Hannah realized how little of her Sage knew. She knew the Young Mage wanted to kill her, but not why. She knew Hannah was a budding sorceress, but so new to the craft she couldn’t even read. She probably didn’t know who her father was, and for sure she didn’t know Hannah was in line for the crown.”
Secrets between people keep friendships soft and temporary.
When she woke in the morning, Hannah remembered where she was and quickly checked the position of her bag, and the contents that she had carefully placed so she would know if Sage searched for coins. The bag and contents were exactly as she left them.
They ate what Hannah called ‘hard crackers,' which were just thin bread, fried hard on each side, then lightly salted. They were a staple of servants, and familiar food, if tasteless. Water to wash them down, came from cold streams they waded past.
Sage wore her green pants and shirt that blended in with the forest, and a brown backpack and heavy boots. Hannah still wore her pale green dress, while carrying her leather bag and everything else rolled into her blanket, including her other two dresses, one of which she’d never worn, and her slippers. Hannah went barefoot, as she did most of the year.
Hannah pointed at one of the larger pines. “How old do you think that tree is?”
“The sorceress who mentored me said some of them are over five hundred years old.”
“Is she sure?” Hannah demanded.
Sage shrugged, “She has no reason to lie, but why are you asking?”
“Well, I’m not sure how to put it into words, but I’ll try. If that tree has stood there for five hundred years, there must have been so many people pass by that I can’t even count that high. If just one had chopped it down, it would not be there. Does that make sense?”
They walked up a fairly steep hill before Sage paused to catch her breath and said, “I think I see what you mean. All those people had the chance to chop it down and use it for firewood, or to build the wall of a cabin. Not one chose to do it.” She drew in a few deep breaths before continuing. “But there is another side to your observation.”
“Which is?” Hannah asked, her voice sharper than intended.
Sage pointed to the bald top of the hill they stood upon. “See that tree over there?”
“No,” Hannah said.
“That’s because someone did chop it down sometime in the last five hundred years.”
Hannah paused. “That’s interesting. I talk about what I see, and you talk about what you do not.”
“People are different. You and I look at the same thing and see something the other does not. I suspect there is a lesson in there somewhere, but I’m maybe eight years older than you. I can teach you to read and write, and a few basic spells, but from what I’ve observed so far, you will soon be my teacher in every way.”
“That’s silly,” Hannah laughed.
Sage didn’t laugh.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Later in the day, as they climbed to the top of another hill, a valley spread out beyond, a wide river snaked down the center. Hannah recognized it immediately. She saw the ford where Sir James and she had crossed, and directly below were the patterned rectangles of their fields and pastures. The fields were ready for the hay to be cut and stored for winter. No animals grazed the pastures.
Her eyes ignored all of that for the place where a house, barn, and outbuildings had once existed. Fire-blackened and charred remains sickened her.
“What is that?” Sage asked, her voice soft and fearful. “And who did it?”
“And you might as well ask, why,” Hannah added, her voice cracking with emotion. “The answers are that what you see is the remains of a farm where I went to seek help. I received it. The assassins, the mage, and Royal who pays him burned the farm and killed all the animals because they suspected the owners helped me.”
“The evil gods would avoid this place. I don’t feel safe even looking at it.”
“When we came through here, the farm was prosperous, the people kind. I owe them and will pay for the kindness and two horses we rode.”
Sage turned to look at her. “Well, I was not trying to insult you, Hannah. I was just saying it looks dangerous. What if there is someone waiting for you down there? I mean, someone waiting to kill you because they left him there in case you returned?”
The idea sounded farfetched but not impossible. Hannah said, “Okay, we’re not in a hurry. As far as we know, the Young Mage is far behind and does not even know our direction. We can afford to sit and watch for a while. If we see someone or maybe smoke, we decide what to do then.”
Sage squatted on her heels and said softly, “Unless the Young Mage has dogs.”
Hannah turned. “Dogs?”
“If I were him, I’d pay for hunting hounds to follow our scent.”
“Can’t you cast a spell or something?”
Sage lowered her eyes. “No, not really, but you think spells solve all problems. I know a few spells and enchantments, but most are the sort I sell at the market to lonely old ladies. Remember, I’m not much older than you, and I was never supposed to teach you more than reading. But I don’t want to sit here while dogs close in on us.”
Hannah listened to the sounds of the forest as her fear increased. She said, “The family that lived down there crossed the river at the ford and followed the road in their wagon to where their family lives. The river is shallow there. We can circle and stay behind cover and get across the river without being seen. Then we can find where they went.”
They moved back into the trees and circled the farm, always staying well back from being sighted, and Hannah listened for the baying of hounds but didn’t mention it. A few odd expressions from Sage gave Hannah the impression she also listened.
Finally, they knelt behind a stand of willows growing at the edge of the river. They had still not seen any sign of anyone at the farm, friend or foe. They dropped into the water without any bank, and cattails grew in the wide bend where they stood, but not near the shore.
Sage pointed them out. “They grow in deeper water, more than knee deep. That means it is shallower near the shore.”
“You’re sure? I can’t swim,” Hannah said.
“Hardly any current here, either. They don’t grow where there’s current. We can get down there and walk along the edge until we are in the open where the ford is, and then we can run.”
Hannah decided that if Sage were wrong about the water, she would be there to save her. But the muddy water only came to her ankles. She splashed upstream, using the willows for cover and still listened for the barking of dogs on their trail. If she heard them, she decided to run. Sage would have to try to keep up with her. She smiled at the thought.
She watched through the openings of the willows as they moved, keeping an eye on the homestead, but never seeing anything alive but one small goat. The river widened where the road entered the river; the bottom felt firm, and when she walked up the other bank relief filled her. They looked at each other in triumph and used the road to hurry along.
At the first farm, a stout young man used a pitchfork to throw hay onto a wagon. Hannah waved but didn’t stop. She needed to know where Springtown, the place where Cooper’s sister lived, but anyone following them would also talk to the farmer and he’d be sure to tell them where she was going.