The buildings were as dark and crowded as they had been last autumn, looking like obscure entrances to other worlds. Despite her first unsavory impression of this place, Jahrra couldn’t help but love the uneven, cobbled streets and crooked cottages. The buildings reminded her of those back at home in Oescienne, with rickety staircases hugging the rough walls as they climbed up two stories or more. The planter boxes were no longer barren but displayed an array of young flowers and bulbs, herbs and even a few mushrooms. The rich smell of stew and baking bread filled the air and the soft melody of someone humming a mournful song poured out of one of the shops.
Jahrra still had several houses to go to before she reached the fortune teller’s residence. In order to pass the time, she peered down the alleyways as she passed, hoping to spot something shocking like a witch brewing a potion in her cauldron or an otherworldly creature crouching and sharpening its teeth on a bone.
When she glanced down one particular alley and caught sight of an ancient woman standing in a scarlet cloak, she nearly screamed with surprise.
“Hush!” the crackled voice of Denaeh’s older self hissed.
She waved at Jahrra, enticing her to enter the narrow lane. Jahrra conceded without a second thought, leaving a confused Phrym standing on the street to stare after her. She tried to ignore the joy in her heart, for she had feared they would leave before she could see her old friend again.
Once inside the semi-darkness of the narrow space, Denaeh threw back her hood, her young face smiling brightly.
“What are you doing inside the city?” Jahrra asked in a harsh whisper. “Aren’t you afraid Jaax might see you?”
As if suspecting this to happen, Jahrra shot a glance over her shoulder but the street outside remained empty, only the lazy smoke of the warped chimneys providing any kind of movement.
Denaeh’s grin widened, her topaz eyes sparkling with mischief. “He’s far too busy at the moment to worry about wayward Mystics.”
She flapped her hand through the air in a gesture that proved her nonexistent concern.
“You must know what has been going on then,” Jahrra said, becoming stoic once more.
“Aye,” she said, crossing her arms loosely and giving Jahrra a serious look. “That female dragon has been tarnishing your name and using dirty magic to do so.”
Jahrra’s eyes lit with irritation. “So it really was her. I knew it!”
Denaeh nodded. “Yes, her and that other Tanaan.”
“Rohdann,” Jahrra murmured. “Did you see it or hear about it from the people of Lidien?”
The Mystic tilted her head. “I saw some of it, a revelation that came only yesterday, and then this morning Milihn provided me with the proof I needed.”
“Milihn?” Jahrra asked. “What proof?”
Denaeh reached into her robes and pulled out an old leather bag, cracked in some spots and drawn tight with a narrow string. The Mystic’s eyes were blazing now, her curly red hair framing her bright face like a blazing halo.
“What is that?” Jahrra asked, stepping forward to get a closer look.
“A recipe, or more precisely, a potion. It’s a dry mix of ingredients that, when placed on the tongue, wrap the words that are spoken in a spell of malice and intention.”
Jahrra gaped. So Jaax had been right. The rumors had been tainted with dishonest magic.
Denaeh pulled the bag open and Jahrra got a whiff of the nasty stuff. She felt her bile rise and she turned away, covering her mouth and nose. When she turned back, her eyes were watering and wide with shock.
“That smells terrible!” she muffled through her fingers.
“Aye,” Denaeh responded, wrinkling her nose and reclosing the bag as far away from her face as possible. “And it tastes just as bad.”
Jahrra didn’t ask how Denaeh knew that but instead queried, “If that belongs to Shiroxx and Rohdann, how did you get it?”
Denaeh returned the bag to her hidden pocket and turned back to Jahrra, her hands on her hips. “Milihn, of course. He slipped into the red dragon’s house and listened to her conversation with Rohdann. The two of them exchanged some words and then administered the powder in this bag. Then they left to spread their nefarious lies. Milihn swooped down and snatched up the bag, bringing it back to me in the woods.”
Jahrra simply stared at Denaeh. She didn’t wonder how Milihn had told her all of this but she wouldn’t be surprised if the Mystic could speak mind to mind with her bird.
Instead, she said, “This information would have been very useful a few days ago.”
Denaeh shrugged. “You haven’t come to see me since I made my presence known and if you had this information, how would you share it with Jaax without alerting him to my presence?”
Jahrra slouched. Denaeh had a point. Besides, she and Jaax knew how the rumors had become so malicious, so it really didn’t matter in the end. But there was something Jahrra needed to know, or at least she wanted to know.
“We’re leaving Lidien, you know,” she said.
Denaeh nodded. “I know.”
“Because the Creecemind king wants to see that I actually exist,” she paused, taking in Denaeh’s reaction.
Masked and calm as usual.
Jahrra took a breath and continued, “and because the Tyrant’s men have penetrated Felldreim’s borders with the intent to harm me.”
It was there and gone in a flash, a look that crossed the Mystic’s eyes. Jahrra only wished she could process what she was seeing faster.
She ignored her slight irritation and said, “Is this true?”
Denaeh took a while to answer her but eventually she did. “I have sensed a large negative presence of late, like the slow onslaught of a disease. Yet I haven’t had any solid visions yet; too much magic, both good and ill, seems to be stirring of late and it makes it harder for me to see. Nevertheless,” she took a breath, “I believe Raejaaxorix is making the right decision in moving you from Lidien.”
Jahrra nodded sharply, once.
“Not only would you be trapped here if they managed to breach the magic of the city but your presence would make the entire population of Lidien a great target.”
Jahrra nodded again, this time frowning as she did so. She knew the Mystic’s words were true and she had had the same thoughts ever since Jaax had informed her of their need to flee.
Denaeh continued when Jahrra didn’t protest. “Lidien is the last refuge for those who have real reason to fear the Tyrant king. You are making the right choice in drawing their attention elsewhere.”
The rattle of a cart snapped the two women away from their conversation. A voice called, followed by an answer, and Jahrra whipped around to see Phrym glancing over his shoulder, ears pricked forward.
“I must go,” Denaeh hissed, melting into her elderly self. “I’ll find you again if I can.”
“Goodbye,” Jahrra said, giving her small, frail frame a hug. “I hope you do.”
Denaeh cackled, the cackle of an old hag. “Oh, I will my dear, I will.”
Jahrra returned to her semequin just as the cart pulled up. A large Nesnan man, looking to be on the later end of life, glared down at her from under a battered felt hat.
“What you doin’ in that dirty alley?” he grumbled.
Jahrra cast him a haughty look. “Thought I saw something drop out of my saddle bag.”
The man gave her a disbelieving look and stretched to look over Phrym’s back.
Jahrra resisted the urge to turn and see if Denaeh had fled.