The Mage's Daughter 2: Book Two: Enlightenment

by LeRoy Clary

  Sara laughed, “That tree you probably killed by throwing your knife so many times at it?”

  “And I still need practice. But you need to learn. And I warn you, I’ll be as hard on teaching you as you’ve been on me.”

  “I don’t want to throw at a fruit tree. I’m looking forward to the apples later this summer and the cherries and plums next year.”

  “I talked to El this morning. He’s going to use a soft wood to make us a new treeman, a target we can use inside.” Prin went back to work on her reading and writing.

  Two days later, the loft was decked, and the walls were going up. El presented them with the new Treeman, a target vaguely shaped like a man. Sara wore her new scabbard and knife. But, more importantly, Prin sounded out her first word, bat. After reading ships days earlier, there had not been time or opportunity to continue.

  She sat by herself on the bench under the tree, knees pulled under her chin, looking at the letters and sounding each, and then slurring them together. Bbb-aa-tt. Bat. She hadn’t checked with Sara but knew it was right. She replaced the B with an R. Rat. Rat, bat, rat, bat. Rat, she now knew another word.

  A peg slipped into a hole in her mind with those two words. She yanked herself back from daydreaming and tried fitting other letters in front of the AT, and soon she was printing sat, cat, mat, and pat. Six words. The concept of reading filled her will joy, and when Sara approached, she didn’t want to stop long enough to look up and reveal that she could read six words.

  Three days later, the loft was finished, all but whitewash, and El collected the final payment from a girl who was almost too busy reading to spare him the time to pay. Fortunately, Sara was so pleased with his work she also ordered cabinets, shelves, and worktables. The area under the loft was transformed into workbenches that circled the three sides of the building, while two more ran parallel in the center. Under them were crude shelves and cabinets, and more were on the walls.

  The new Treeman was stood inside the storage area, and Prin took the breaks her eyes demanded and used it for practice. El had placed an old shirt over the chest for the target. Prin made Sara practice the same as her, and already the front of Treeman was showing signs of the number of times their throws were accurate. The wood was soft, spruce or fir, the body the size as that of a man, the bark removed, and a crude head, belt, and red heart painted in the appropriate locations.

  They were set with a place to live, rooms, security, and each day, they made the building a little more like Home. Sara complained about throwing continually. Her arm was sore. She had other tasks to do. Throwing knives was not for women. She was not learning.

  Prin retrieved the knives from Treeman again, but instead of handing Sara hers, she said, “Listen, I was a helpless little girl when they killed my father, and again when the killed Sir James and William. Helpless. I swore that would never happen again. I do not have the skills to fight, not yet, but I dare anybody wishing to do me harm to stand five and a half steps from me.

  She let her knife fly. Sara silently reached for hers. Treeman died another hundred times before they rested.

  Things were going well when a knock on their door found a member of the Order of the Iron Ring standing politely outside. It was the one they’d met on their first day in Indore. He held the leather satchel that had been stolen. “This is yours?”

  Prin accepted the leather bag and found it empty, which was expected, but there had been nothing of real value inside. “Yes, thank you. Can I offer you water? Or Bread?”

  He shook his head. “No, I must get back to work. My order is suddenly very busy. We are sworn to hunt for a girl, an eleven-year-old with yellow hair. Have you seen one that fits that description?” he raised his eyebrows in question.

  They’re here. “No, I haven’t,” she said, heart pounding.

  “You, as I recall are thirteen, and your hair is not yellow, even if you allowed it to grow out, I’m sure. Besides, you were here before the runaway girl departed from another land. Still, the rewards offered are substantial and it would not due to be mistaken for her.”

  Her hand went to her head and felt the soft hair that had regrown to a blonde stubble. His face remained impassive, and she knew he’d remain silent about her, but he brought her bag, and with it, a warning. “What has this girl done? Only eleven and bounty hunters are after her?”

  “I wouldn’t know, but it does sound like the girl has done nothing but exist. She has not had time in this life to do much to anyone, when you think about it. But it is not ours to question our benefactors.”

  Sara had come silently up behind them and listened. She said, “There was a girl I heard about. Yellow hair, traveling alone, I think, as I remember the story. She was acting odd. Like she was in a big hurry.”

  He tilted his head as if listening carefully.

  “It was the same day we met you, I think. I heard about her in the bazaar. Because of her young age and because she was getting on a ship alone, a woman noticed and wondered where a little girl like that would be going.” Sara stopped talking and waited.

  He said, “I wouldn’t expect you to remember the name of the ship, or other details. You would have no reason to, or I would question your information as being too much for the truth.”

  “No,” Sara said. “I wouldn’t know any of those details. I’m surprised I remember that much. Really, it’s no more than a rumor told by a dark-haired woman of about twenty-five on the street in the bazaar. You may have seen her in the bazaar a few times, but I’d know nothing about.”

  “I will report what that woman saw. It’s my duty to pass on all rumors of this girl.” He nodded once and turned away. He turned back, “It seems that everyone in Indore is searching for that girl. She must be careful, or she will be found. The rewards are great.”

  Sara pushed the door closed and fell back against it as if she would collapse on weak knees.

  Prin said, “My head needs to be shaved again. The blonde hair shows.”

  Sara said, “Mine too. Then we need to go shopping.” She paused, drew the knife from her scabbard and in a single motion let it fly at Treeman. It struck handle first and clattered to the stone floor.

  “Shopping for what?” Prin asked.

  “Remember that big ugly dog you wanted?”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  With their heads again shaved and pink, their pointed hats on, they left for the bazaar where it seemed anything, and everything, was for sale for a price. Sara looked worried and tense, which were both true if her fears paralleled Prin’s.

  While they searched for information about trained guard dogs, they avoided suggestions of where to buy cuddly puppies. Twice, Sara stopped at stalls and purchased plants, spices, and once a bag of ground powder that was a familiar cooking spice. “Our food will taste so much better with this.”

  “Well, you’ll also like what I see up ahead, too. Dogs,” Prin said.

  At the edge of the bazaar sat a wagon with two dogs sprawled in the shade under it. Both wore heavy chains around their necks and eyed the girls as they drew closer. They rose and bared yellow teeth. Fierce growls warned the girls to stay away.

  “I’d listen to them and wouldn’t get any closer,” a man called lazily from behind the wagon where he’d been napping in a chair tilted back against a wall. “Go on about your business.”

  Sara backed off, but Prin took another step closer and knelt, just out of reach of the nearest. “Are they trained?”

  “Not for little girls. Those two will rip your head from your body and tear your arms and legs from it.”

  “But are they trained?” Prin demanded, her voice stern.

  “Trained to attack, which is what I may have them do if you two don’t move on. Real buyers will take one look at you trying to play with them and think they’re pets. Then I’ll lose a sale because of you.”

  Prin turned to look at him. He was dirty, his clothing little more than rags, and most women would have done as he said, but she remained, a
ngered by his attitude. “Do you treat all your customers like this?”

  “You ain’t a customer and those dogs ain’t puppies for you to play with.”

  She stood. “My father sent us to locate a dog to guard his warehouse, not a pet.”

  He settled the chair down on four legs and stood, slowly and with a small measure of respect. He said, “Either of those will attack you if you get closer. I warn you to stay away. Send your father to buy his own dog.”

  Both dogs were still on their feet. Their lips were pulled back, teeth bared, and low warning growls came from deep within their massive chests. They were staked to the ground by heavy chains stretched to the limit. Saliva dripped from the mouth of the larger dog.

  Prin said, “Just because they’re mean does not tell me they’re trained. Order them to allow me to walk to them.”

  “What?”

  “Tell them to stand down,” Prin said sweetly. “If they’re properly trained.”

  “They’re damn watchdogs, not pussy-cats. Now, get away from them—and me.” He turned and went back to his chair.

  Prin turned to Sara, who appeared terrified of the dogs, the angry man, or both. She said, “These are not the ones we want. I only have the one gold sliver to spend.”

  The man leaped to his feet at her mention of gold, but Prin turned away and strode away, ignoring his calls to return. Before she went a dozen steps, a gray-haired woman standing at a stall across the aisle motioned for her to approach. She sold straw hats of all sorts. She held one up and said loudly, for the benefit of the dog seller, “I may copy the kind of hats you two are wearing so I can sell them here. They’re lovely. May I see one?”

  Sara quickly agreed, probably since it took her a few steps further away from the vicious dogs. She handed her hat to the old woman, who examined it and commented on the beautiful construction, quality materials, and style. Then, in a softer voice intended for their ears only, “There is a man at the end of this row who has dogs you might wish to examine.”

  She handed the hat back to Sara with a flourish and a concealed smile.

  Prin winked at her in thanks and started in the direction she’d indicated, Sara at her side. She turned and called, “I’ll be back later to look at your hats.”

  They walked in the direction of the dog seller. A raven landed on the roof of a green and white striped tent. Both Sara and Prin noticed the odd way it looked at them, hopping and dancing to get closer. It moved to the edge of the tent and said, “Hannah beware.”

  Sara put her hands to her mouth in surprise. “That was Evelyn’s voice.”

  “I thought so too.”

  “Hannah beware,” the bird said again softly, then flew off.

  Sara turned to Prin. “The good news is that you didn’t imagine that.”

  “I wonder if it was the same bird?”

  “It was Evelyn’s voice, and it did call you Hannah. I think she somehow sent it.”

  Prin said, “How could she do that?”

  Sara shrugged. “I don’t know. But we both think it was her voice, and only she would know that other name. Instead of wondering how we should be wondering why. To send a warning across over a mountain range is beyond me, but I’m just a beginning sorceress, and there’s a lot I don’t know.”

  “I wish she had said more.”

  “Well, I think telling you to beware, along with the idea of sending the message, tells you all you need to know. They are coming for you. They know you’re here. Beware.”

  They walked down the aisles in silence, still heading for the place where the dogs were sold, but Prin kept her eyes to the sky, and to any birds that might call her name. She noticed another bookseller along the way. Within the hundreds of books, one emitted small blue dots, like the floating pink dots at Evelyn’s workshop in the forest, but these were tiny, blue, and remained floating near one book. She nudged Sara and shifted her eyes to the book.

  Sara nearly stumbled at the sight, then recovered. Speaking loud enough for those near her, she said, “I need a book with recipes. I’m tired of eating the same things every day.”

  The woman selling the books spoke up, “I have a few you may like.”

  They pretended to be interested in the three other cookbooks, finding one contained complicated recipes, one that was in bad condition, and one had pages missing. Prin recognized the letters of the titles and tried sounding out the words, while Sara talked to the seller. Sara found a small, but detailed book of local plants, including detailed drawings of each, along with descriptions and possible medical uses. She placed it on the counter and then reached for the book with the little blue dots floating near it.

  As Sara’s hand barely touched it, the bookseller reacted as if slapped across her face. She spun and grabbed Sara’s wrist, “Not that one, honey.”

  “I was just going to look at it.”

  “There are many other books to buy, but that one is reserved for a regular customer.”

  Sara straightened and said, “We have to go see those dogs, so we better hurry. We can come back here another time.”

  After leaving, Prin said, “That was odd.”

  “She reacted like that with her back turned to me. How did she know which book I touched?”

  “It was like at Evelyn’s workshop. I saw the bubbles floating near the book, but they never left it.”

  “We’ll go to her stall again after we think about what happened.”

  “Do you think she is a sorceress?” Prin asked softly.

  “Possibly, but I don’t think so. I think a sorceress is using the bookseller to pass on the contents to another sorceress and she cast a spell on her.”

  “Did you manage to read the words on the edge of the book?”

  Sara said, “Protective Spells. It said nothing more. But the letters shifted and swirled in curlicues of ink so it couldn’t be read unless I took the time to decipher each letter in order. I believe most people would glance at it and move on because it was too much trouble to read.”

  “That’s a clever way to hide writing.”

  They had been walking as they talked and came to the end of the row. Three dogs were in front of a wagon, none tied, two sleeping and one idly watching people as they walked past. An older puppy was behind the wagon on a leash. A small man in baggy clothing walked it in a small open space, talking gently to the dog as they moved.

  Sara said, “Let’s buy a meat pie and lemon water.” She indicated a stall with two tiny tables, each with two small chairs.

  The vendor was situated where they could watch the man with the dogs without being obvious. Prin understood Sara’s objective. The previous dog seller trained them to be mean, probably by beating them, which is not the same as training. They sat at a small table where they could watch.

  The man moved stiffly, and appeared hindered by bad knees but didn’t seem to be more than his early thirties. He held the leash in a limp hand, never allowing the dog to determine the direction they walked. He used careful persuasion on the pup, talking softly as it learned, praising it for doing what was asked. Although the dog was not yet fully grown, it obeyed his commands eagerly.

  They devoured the meat pies, and Prin wished she had kept some of hers, to feed a dog. They finished the lemon water and approached the trainer. He greeted them with a cheerful welcome and held the puppy back with a short leash, telling it to sit.

  Sara took the lead. “Our father asked us to find a dog for him. He’s an importer and exporter of rare spices, some quite valuable and we need a dog to guard our warehouse, and maybe us.”

  “You can find watchdogs to chain up near your door for much less than my dogs.”

  “I once saw a dog that attacked only on command. Otherwise, it was as gentle as the three sleeping at the edge of your stall.”

  “Was it here in Indore?”

  “No, far across the sea,” Sara said quickly, cutting that subject short.

  “Well, I thought you might have run across one of mine,” he
said.

  “That’s how you train your dogs?”

  He provided a long, convoluted description, the spiel of a man who loved his work. Within the tangle of words, Prin understood that each breed of dog has a purpose. A few breeds are large enough to pose a threat, yet gentle enough to raise among children—if they are well trained. The three dogs sunning themselves were examples.

  Prin said, “I can walk up to any of them and pet them?”

  “You’ll be perfectly safe—unless I give the command to attack.”

  Sara said, “Will they halt their attack if you order them?”

  “To sell many more dogs, the answer I give should give to a potential customer is, yes.” He shrugged in a way that said he wasn’t sure. “The truth is, maybe. When good dogs sense one they love is being hurt or is in danger, no words will hold them back.”

  “Will they bite us?” Sara asked. “I mean, if they get upset that we didn’t feed them on time or something?”

  He laughed. Her answer told him and Prin that she had never owned a dog, and hadn’t been around many. The man said, “Part of the expense of my animals is the breeding and selection. I accept only the best, so once a dog bonds with an owner there is no danger. None. Also, before you ask, I do not allow my dogs to be sold until the owner is also trained, a task of at least three days, well, three partial days.”

  Prin approached the wary dogs still sunning themselves, her hand extended. All sniffed, but one stood and approached. It was the largest, the most intelligent in appearance, and when it wagged its tail and licked her palm the choice was made. “His name?”

  “That is for the owner to decide.”

  Prin sat beside the dog and placed an arm over its shoulder. The dog sat and gazed at her with adoring eyes.

  Sara said, “If you order it to do so, will that dog attack Prin?”

  “I’m not sure my training is that good. Just look at them. I think they have already forged a bond. If I didn’t have a hungry wife to feed, I’d just give the dog to the girl.”

  “What would your wife say if she heard you talking like that about her?” Sara demanded, trying not to smile.