The Witch's City

by M. Gregg Roe

  Medea nodded, feeling even more surprised. Hanna did have darker skin than Marryn or herself—a lovely shade in her opinion. “Good. I’m going to go start lunch now.”

  “All right. I need to finish showing Hanna how to maintain her new hairstyle.”

  Mardan, Gabriel, and Carlinda all showed up for lunch. They were all impressed by Hanna’s changed appearance and showered Marryn with compliments. Everyone except Marryn departed after lunch, and Medea spoke with her daughter.

  “That was well done,” she said after giving her daughter a hug. “And generous. I could tell that Hanna appreciated it.”

  “I hope so. She’s still … odd, though.”

  “I know. She’s never going to be like she was, but you found a way to help her. I’m proud of you.”

  Marryn’s smile was lovely. “Thank you. Your threat this morning got me thinking about my clothing, and then I noticed that Hanna and I are now the same height. I’ll bet she ends up as tall as Gabriel.”

  “She just might,” agreed Medea.

  Marryn’s expression turned serious as she said, “Mother, I’m going to go through all of my dresses this afternoon. I’ve outgrown some of them. You can donate those.”

  “We will donate them together. I’ve got some old clothes too. We all do. We’ll donate them to Draymund’s charity.”

  Marryn nodded. “All right. Isn’t there a thrift store there?”

  “Yes, and sometimes they have some very nice things. I think some of the rich people here throw out clothes at the first signs of wear.”

  “Or if they’ve gone out of style,” added Marryn with a disapproving look. “That’s how I got my nicest dress. A girl was just throwing it out and she had only worn it twice! I don’t care how rich you are; that’s just wasteful!”

  “Yes, it is. I’ll go start looking through my own clothes.”

  “All right.” Marryn headed for her room.

  Medea was amazed. What she had feared would be a disaster had instead been therapeutic for both Hanna and Marryn. She was already thinking about how to get the two of them together more often.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  “So who is this girl you want me to follow?” asked Owen in his surprisingly deep voice.

  “That’s what I want you to tell me,” Hankin explained as they stood about thirty yards from the building that they were watching. The house wasn’t large or in particularly good condition despite belonging to an important person in the Witch’s City.

  Supervising trainees like Owen was part of Hankin’s punishment. Celebern had been extremely unhappy about his unapproved excursion to Zardis. More so, because the only thing that he had been able to verify was that Buris had indeed fled there. Hankin hadn’t been able to locate the man before being forced to return.

  “That’s a good disguise. You look really different.”

  “That’s the idea, Owen. You will be learning about disguises later in your training.” And acting, which was just as important.

  Hankin currently had shoulder-length blond hair, a thick mustache, and a faint knife scar on his left cheek. His shoes made him almost two inches taller, and his clothing—old, drab, and worn—made him look like someone who was down on his luck. A small paunch and slight limp completed his disguise. And if someone other than Owen were to speak with him, his voice would be low and raspy, sounding nothing like his normal one.

  Owen was dressed just as poorly as Hankin was, but that was normal for him. He was from a poor family, and as of about a year ago, a broken one. His father, a low-level worker at a rice paper factory, had never been of much use, but he had at least brought home some income. He disappeared one day, and even Hankin hadn’t been able to determine what had happened to him. Desperate to support his mother and young sister, Owen turned to theft. Leveraging his intelligence and climbing ability, he had evaded capture by either the Guard or Novox for a remarkably long time.

  Hankin doubted that Owen would ever be good at surveillance, but all trainees received a variety of training to help identify their talents. Owen had also displayed impressive skill at picking locks. Hankin suspected that would ultimately be his chosen specialty.

  Owen wasn’t much to look at. His short brown hair always looked wind-blown despite his efforts to tame it. Pale blue eyes contrasted with swarthy skin—pockmarked from a disease that he had barely survived as a child. Owen had put on some weight now that he was receiving regular meals, but he was still skinny. He had a habit of running his tongue over his teeth when he was thinking. Habits like that were too recognizable, and Owen would have to eventually learn to control it.

  “Door’s opening,” said Owen suddenly, squinting as he looked toward the house. “Two people. Both female. Hey! I recognize the older one. She works at the Temple of Arwon.”

  Hankin was pleased by Owen’s recognition, but not terribly surprised. What was surprising was how the other person was dressed. He had never seen her wear a skirt before, and her hair was different from the last time he had seen her.

  The two people they were watching were walking in their direction. Hankin moved out of sight as Owen did the opposite, walking out into plain sight of the two and heading toward them. After the two passed, Owen soon appeared, trailing a good distance behind them. Hankin waited a moment before emerging and following him. They headed west, soon entering an area full of impressive homes sited on large walled-off lots. After passing through the area, they turned left onto the Endless Way and followed it for some distance before turning right onto a small street. Hankin had a suspicion of where the two were heading.

  Owen had been keeping well back and strolling along casually. Properly following someone required a team of people, but Owen had no choice but to directly follow them. Still, Hankin thought that he was doing a decent job, staying well back and being especially cautious when they changed direction. The two reached a line of shops and went into one. As Hankin had anticipated, it was Witch’s City Clothing. Owen had stopped short and was loitering outside a cheese shop on the other side of the street.

  “Report,” ordered Hankin as he walked up to him.

  Owen frowned and ran his tongue over his teeth before speaking. “She’s younger than I thought. I think walking by them was a mistake. The woman barely glanced at me, but the girl eyed me good. She’s alert and suspicious.”

  “Anything else?” he inquired.

  “Her clothes are decent quality and she’s got what looks like an expensive knife on her belt. Her shirt sleeves look odd. Maybe throwing knives?” He frowned and shook his head before asking, “Who is she? Another trainee?”

  “Something like that. Her mother is teaching her, but she doesn’t live around here.”

  “The woman’s not her mother?”

  “No. She’s her step-mother. But—”

  Hankin was startled as Owen whirled around and drew his knife, ending up face-to-face with Hanna, who had her own knife in hand and looked ready to use it. The door of the cheese shop opened and Carlinda emerged, frowning and with her right hand on her dagger hilt. “Why are you two following us?” she demanded.

  Owen looked back over his shoulder with a questioning look and Hankin shook his head. Owen sheathed his knife, but Hanna didn’t respond at all.

  “Good morning, Carlinda,” said Hankin in his normal voice causing her eyes to widen in surprise. “This is Owen, one of our trainees who apparently needs more training. Owen, the girl you were following is Hanna. Captain Hagen is her father.”

  Hanna slowly stood up straight and sheathed her knife, but she still looked wary. “That’s quite the disguise,” remarked Carlinda. “I didn’t recognize you at all. I know your eyes aren’t brown. How do you do that?”

  Hankin smirked. “That’s a trade secret. I’m sorry to interrupt your shopping trip.”

  “It’s fine. We’re not in a hurry and it added some excitement. But don’t do it again.”

  “We won’t.” Owen and Hanna were still staring at each other. “Come
along, Owen,” Hankin ordered, and the two of them walked off. “What was our mistake?” he asked him.

  “My first was being seen. The girl—Hanna—must have spotted me following them. The second mistake was not having someone to watch the back of the shop. The two went out the back way and then the woman went in the back of the cheese shop while the girl snuck up behind me.”

  “Very good. If it makes you feel better, Hanna’s mother is a former member of the Zardis Thieves’ Guild.”

  Owen laughed. “That’s kind of a relief. Now I don’t feel so bad. What now?”

  “More trailing people and then lunch.”

  “Sounds good. Let’s get to it.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Despite the threatening weather, Audrey was in a good mood as she strolled around the grounds in the mid-afternoon. It finally felt to her as if things were turning around. She enjoyed teaching the beginner class and had come to both like and respect Randolf, the young man that was her co-instructor. But she had been disappointed to learn that he was already in a serious relationship, because she had been thinking of asking him out.

  Audrey spotted the female black-and-white kitten peering at her from a patch of tall grass. There were three kittens now roaming the grounds. They and their mother would eventually have to be rounded up and given new homes. Otherwise the kittens would breed with each other and maybe even their parents.

  She and Saxloc were getting along well again, and so were Draymund and Almera from what she could tell. It was partly Branwyn’s doing, but in Audrey’s opinion, Rosalind was also a factor. Almera’s breakdown earlier that year had ended up bringing all four of them closer together. Now, it was their mutual concern for Rosalind as she faced her illness and childless future. Audrey still wasn’t sure if she wanted to have children, but she nonetheless felt for Rosalind, whom she thought very brave.

  The arrival of a letter from Violet that morning had been an incredible relief. It consisted primarily of Violet complaining about still being confined to bed, but her sense of humor was evident. A note from Violet’s mother assured Audrey that the pregnancy was still going fine. It was an incredible relief, and Audrey spent the entire morning smiling as she worked on her sewing.

  That evening, they were hosting a going-away dinner for Branwyn. And for Hanna, who Audrey still hadn’t met. Almera had invited a number of people, including Ermizad and Celebern. Cinda had already told her that she would be attending as Celebern’s dinner companion. Once again she found herself wondering if her friend would be providing other services for Celebern later that night. It was disquieting, but that was part of who Cinda was now.

  Audrey spotted someone unfamiliar as she approached her cottage. A tall girl wearing a skirt was staring at the plaque to the left of the front door that displayed Audrey’s full name. The girl pivoted and crouched with amazing speed, causing Audrey to automatically assume a combat stance. With her right hand now reaching inside her left sleeve, presumably for a throwing knife, the girl’s eyes widened in fear.

  Audrey relaxed and resumed a normal standing posture. Smiling, she asked, “Are you Hanna?”

  The girl visibly relaxed before pointing to herself and saying, “Hanna av Tilda.” Then she pointed to the plaque and gave Audrey a questioning look.

  “Yes, that’s me. Audrey av Marilee.”

  “Marilee,” Hanna repeated, seemingly to herself. “I couldn’t read that part,” she confessed.

  “I couldn’t read at all when I came here,” Audrey told her as she walked up. “And I was seventeen. You’re ahead of me.”

  Hanna smiled in response. Now that she was close, Audrey could see the tell-tale bulges in both of Hanna’s sleeves. Hanna was also wearing a knife on the right side of her leather belt. Up close, it was evident that Hanna had used some makeup on her face, although not particularly well.

  “Would you like to see my cottage?” offered Audrey, and Hanna nodded in response. “I could also help you with your makeup.” Hanna nodded again. “Would you like to see my throwing knives?” Hanna’s face lit up, causing Audrey to smile. She had found the key.

  “Yes,” said Hanna, looking eager. “Who is your teacher? Where did you buy them?”

  “Grasapa is my teacher and she gave them to me. I think they came from Sharp Edges, but it’s gone now.”

  Now Hanna had a sad look. “I heard about that. I used to go there when I visited.” She pointed to her face. “Marryn tried to teach me, but it’s hard.”

  “Marryn?”

  “Yes. She was nice to me.” Hanna frowned. “For a change. She gave me this skirt.”

  “Marryn has never liked me. I’m not that good at makeup myself, but I’ll see what I can do. I think you just used too much, which is easy to fix.” And they could always seek out Almera’s help.

  “Okay.”

  The two of them had a good time, even spending time throwing knives at a target Audrey had put up behind her cottage. She admired Hanna’s knives, which had come from Zardis and were almost black in color. She also admired Hanna’s speed and skill, learning several things from her in the process. Knives really were the key, and Audrey felt that Hanna was really opening up to her, speaking about her life in Rohoville and her friends there.

  Audrey had been planning to wear a dress, but she instead opted for a nice shirt with a skirt. She and Hanna helped each other with their hair, and then the two of them walked together to the mansion.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Natalia hadn’t realized just how many issues with her body that she had been tolerating. It wasn’t just her skin, her entire body had been returned to perfect health. The perpetual ache that had been in her right ankle since she broke it as a child was now gone. For the first time in years, she had a left shoulder with the full range of movement it was supposed to have. She had sustained all kinds of injuries over the years, and quite a few of them hadn’t healed properly. It was such a large change that she was having to retrain herself in some ways.

  Hankin’s invitation to accompany him was convenient, because it gave her an opportunity to thank Branwyn again before the woman returned home. But Natalia was nervous because she had never been to Draymund and Almera’s mansion before.

  She brought the two of them to a stop several yards short of the front of the mansion, causing Hankin to give her a puzzled look. He was wearing well-tailored clothing—all black, of course. She was wearing her favorite dress, bright red and form-fitting.

  “Is it true?” she asked him. “The story they tell about the thieves that tried to break in here?” Hankin tried to hide it, but she could tell her question annoyed him.

  “The ones that were supposedly turned inside out?” he asked.

  “Yes. Did it really happen?” It had given her nightmares when she had first heard about it.

  Hankin hesitated. “I used to think it was just a legend, something to scare novice thieves. I asked Draymund about it one time and he just smirked at me. And the mansion does have strong magical defenses.”

  “So it might be true?”

  “Maybe.” Hankin shrugged. “Or maybe it’s just a story the two of them spread to scare people. Let’s go.”

  “Okay.” But she was still worried.

  Natalia was amazed by the mansion’s interior but also overwhelmed. People she barely knew kept asking her questions about her recent death and return. Rosalind, in particular, seemed fascinated. Even shy Hanna, who spent most of her time near either her father or Carlinda, asked her about it.

  After dinner, Natalia asked Draymund to show her his trophy room. He happily agreed and she was very impressed. As they were preparing to head back downstairs, she couldn’t resist asking him about the legend.

  “Inside out?” he scoffed. “That’s ridiculous. They’re smashed into cubes and then turned to stone. That way we can use them to build walls and things.”

  Natalia was pretty sure that he had been joking, but she still had nightmares that night.

  ♦ ♦ ♦
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  “I cannot believe the change in Hanna,” said Branwyn as she sat opposite her in the guest suite’s sitting area. “And Marryn was responsible? Who would believe it?”

  Almera smiled at her friend. “I find it hard to believe as well, although Medea apparently threatened her beforehand to behave herself.”

  Branwyn sighed and gestured with the small cup she had been drinking rice wine from. “I just hope it lasts. I’ve seen improvements before that haven’t lasted.” She frowned at her cup. “A good hostess wouldn’t let her guest’s cup go dry.”

  Almera got up and refilled both of their cups using the jug that was sitting on the low table between them. “My guest needs to remember that she is scheduled to take an early ship tomorrow. That’s your third cup, not counting what you had at dinner.”

  “They are small cups,” Branwyn countered, holding hers up to illustrate her point. “If I’m unconscious in the morning, just have Draymund carry me there. Or have Celebern hold the ship. I think I deserve one night of getting thoroughly drunk.”

  “You do,” agreed Almera. “I am very glad you came to help.” Branwyn had succeeded far beyond her expectations.

  “It was interesting. I’ve never encountered Rosalind’s problem before.”

  “I think Rosalind is going to be fine, although getting her to move out isn’t going to be easy.”

  Branwyn drained her cup and then gestured with it. “Of course not! This place is posh. And comfortable. Why don’t you build her a cottage like Audrey’s?”

  “Only as a last resort. We’ve found her a woman’s boarding house where most of the tenants play Sparrow.”

  “Ooh! Very clever.” Branwyn leaned forward and refilled her cup, nearly dropping the jug in the process. “Before I forget,” she said, pointing at Almera with her free hand. “Stop interfering in Saxloc’s personal life. Especially his love life. You won’t listen, but now I can claim I tried to stop you after Saxloc disowns you and runs away from home.”