“First, the knife. Did you select it from among others?” Maude asked without touching it.
“It was hidden in a drawer in my father’s workshop, but there was no reason I took it except I liked it. There was another knife, one made of black iron William said. Cuts made with it won’t heal. I wanted none of that.”
“I see nothing special about the knife, other than that it is made well. However, there is a spell or enchantment, a small one I’ve never seen and have no idea of what it does—and no way to find out, I’m afraid.”
“So, sometimes a knife is just a knife?” Prin smirked.
Maude ignored her. “The bead is not glass. I think it may be something or someone the mage compressed and rolled into that sphere.”
“I don’t understand,” Prin said.
Maude held it to the light and peered inside before setting it down. “This bead was something before it became this. Perhaps an enemy, or a beast that attacked him. Whatever it was, he spent a tremendous amount of energy to turn it into this. I’ll bet he slept for days to recover.”
Prin and Sara exchanged glances, but Maude picked up the book carefully, sliding a few pages back to where they belonged. “This,” she said, “was written long before your father was born. Not that any magic tells me that, but the age of the parchment, the fading of the ink, and the few words that I see are old, barely the same language we speak. Why he considered this book valuable, I cannot tell you, but the fact he kept it with his most precious things is significant.”
Prin said, “If it’s old and can’t be read, why is it important?”
“I cannot say, but I might venture a guess.”
“Please do,” Prin said.
“These items were the few things hidden in his most secure location, so they may be connected. For instance, the owner of the book may be in the glass bead.”
“The bead might have been a person?” Prin found herself on her feet as the impact of the suggestion made itself known to her. She looked away, not wishing to see or touch the bead. The idea terrified her.
Maude shrugged. “It still might be a person. And you may resurrect him if you are not careful. If your father was a good man, and I believe he was, he wouldn’t place any but the worst enemy inside a bead.”
Prin said, “I have so much to learn.”
Maude examined the tooth. “Ah, now this I can definitely tell you belonged to a dragon, but not a large one, at least as far as dragons go.”
“They are not real,” Prin said.
“Not now.”
Prin said, “But they were? Somewhere?”
“Well, I have not been everywhere, and have never seen one for myself, but your tooth came from a dragon, so the question to ask again is: why did he place it with the other things he values?”
None of them came up with a reasonable idea.
“What about the red parchment?” Prin asked, anxious to find all she could while she had the opportunity.
Maude carefully removed the red ribbon, unrolled it, and then carefully re-rolled it again. She replaced the ribbon back on it and said, “You will never unroll, look at that, or show it to another.”
Sara said, “We looked at it.”
“But did not say the words, or one of you would now be dead. The red bird is a mage warning, but it is a spell used for slaying masses, maybe thousands of people.”
“Then we should destroy it,” Prin said.
“No, we should not. We don’t know what forces that might unleash. It needs to be hidden for all time. I’d suggest hiring ten men to dig a hole for twenty years and place it in a sealed bottle at the bottom and fill in the hole.”
“Really?” Prin asked, trying to imagine how deep that hole might be.
“I consider the scroll to be that dangerous. Now, taken all together, you own a bead of a compressed being, a book that may have belonged to that being, a dragon’s tooth, and the parchment calling for death to all who hear the words upon it spoken. I suggest that tells us something important.” Maude hesitated, “But I do not know what. Of course, I may be completely wrong that they are associated.”
Sara said, “Your ideas follow a logical pattern.”
Maude turned her attention to the painting. She smiled. “Your father and mother. It is enchanted, by several layers of spells, but you already knew that.”
“Yes,” Prin said.
“Do you know the precise enchantments? Because I see at least three, and perhaps five, some from a sorceress, and others the work of a mage.”
Prin said, “All I know is that their expressions change.”
“Ah, I have a painting over there on that wall where the woman’s eyes seem to follow you around a room. A clever trick of the artist.” Maude jutted her chin at a painting.
“No, not like that,” Prin said. “Look carefully. They are not smiling as much as before you decided it was a trick.”
Maude held it up and shifted it to a better light. “I confess, they do not appear as happy, but not everything is magic, child.”
“I have seen them scared for me, and angry.” Prin crossed her arms across her chest, ready to fight Maude over the painting.
“Really?” Maude seemed fascinated. “Do you mind if we hang it on a wall in here where it can watch over us? And we, them?”
“I’d like that.”
Maude said, “The spells and incantations are one thing, but this picture is also linked to you. Inside the paint are hairs from your parents, of course, but there is more I’m unfamiliar with. I can account for possibly one of the spells, but I have no idea of the others. What I do know, is the same light reflects from the painting as from your face.”
Sara moved closer to Maude. Her eyes shifted back and forth between the painting and Prin, and Maude guided her. Finally, Sara said, “She’s right. I can see it now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Carefully, Prin collected her treasures from the table. She now had a possible explanation for them, if not the truth, it sounded like it may be. That was more than yesterday. Maude allowed Brice back inside. He didn’t act as if he knew he’s been excluded and forbidden to enter the house while they had talked.
Brice said, “I think I’ve got it. Look at my head.”
The three of them crowded around him, and none could see the telltale shimmer that identified an unprotected mage. Maude announced a victory breakfast would be served in his honor. As she mentioned it, Prin smelled enticing aromas of frying sausages and bread.
During their meal, Maude outlined their plans, including having him sail with the Merry Princess. Prin watched for any sign of reluctance, prepared to adjust or abandon the ideas, but he seemed to almost rejoice at the adventure in them.
Brice listened, then said, “The ship doesn’t sail for more than a month. Do you think you can teach me to control myself better? Maybe I can learn a few spells?”
Maude chuckled and said, “Mages do not cast spells. They transform.”
“That still confuses me,” he said. “Can I learn to transform something?”
“Forget what you think you know,” Maude told him. “Just learn this, and we’ll work on the rest later. A mage transforms things. By that, I mean he might condense or expand an item to make it smaller or larger. He takes fire and stills it until he needs it, which is a transformation from active to passive. He concentrates air and releases it at his enemies to knock them down with its power.”
Brice said, “I think I’m beginning to see. A mage can take a small wave at sea and make it large enough to sink a ship.”