The Mage's Daughter 2: Book Two: Enlightenment

by LeRoy Clary

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Sara said, “Are they?”

  “I don’t know.” Prin walked warily forward and bent to touch one. Instead of a merry burst, it sagged and melted. She tried the door and found it locked.

  Sara said, “We’ll ask the cobbler.”

  They entered the door next to that one, and the smells of leather, oil, and sweat greeted them. A tiny man bent over a boot and drove another hobnail home with a pointed hammer. His lips held more nails, but he said in a perfectly clear voice, “Be with you in a minute.”

  Their eyes roamed around the shop, looking at the shelves of shoes, boots, and slippers. Prin said to Sara, “Look here,” as she reached for a shoe. Settled on the shelf was another pink dot, the bottom side flattened.

  The hammering stopped.

  Sara turned and said, “We were told you make shoes for sailors.”

  “I do. They’ll keep a man from slipping and getting washed overboard. Are you interested in a pair?”

  “A pair for each of us, if you please,” Sara said. And then she continued as if the next words were common and expected, “Will they be enchanted to prevent slipping?”

  His hand went to his chin, and his eyes narrowed. He appeared to be angry, then morose. “You knew her?”

  “No. We’re new to the city.”

  “But, you can tell?”

  Sara nodded.

  “My late wife.” His eyes teared up, and he looked away. Then he struggled to control himself, and said, “How did you know?”

  “I can see faint wisps of her work, but they are without energy.”

  “She hoped one of you would come. I have instructions she gave me.” He covered his face with his hands and wept.

  They stood aside and waited. When he had composed himself, he stood and said with a forced smile, “Will you still be needing the sailor’s shoes?”

  Prin had positioned herself behind Sara because the man decided she was a sorceress since she had done all the talking. There was no reason to disclose her abilities and perhaps lead to rumors in the future concerning a twelve-year-old girl.

  Sara said, “What did you mean she hoped one of us would come?”

  “You already knew Angelica was a sorceress when you entered. She wanted her work, her collections of minerals and substances to go to another with her abilities. She also collected old books, but her important works were to find and translate ancient scrolls and place that knowledge into her journals.”

  “But, why did she want me to come here?”

  “Why, to continue her life’s work. I have placed everything in wood crates for you, her books, scrolls, minerals, everything. But I am not blessed with her abilities, and I need you to come with me and make sure I didn’t forget something important. The little girl can stay here.”

  “She goes with me.”

  “Okay, have it your way, but come. Please. It’s what my wife wanted.” He went to a connecting door to the shop beside his.

  Inside the shoe store had been the warm smells and aromas of leather, polish, and sweat. Through the door were the varied harsh smells of exotic metals, ground plants and herbs, incense, and aged parchment. The shelves were mostly bare, the little remaining on them of no value or use. Dozens of items, some unidentifiable, were laid out on a workbench. Others held several sets of pestle and mortice, pots, pans, urns, and jars.

  However, in the center of the room were six crates built of sturdy yellow wood, the tops in place but not yet fastened. Each container was as long as Prin’s leg, as wide as her arm, and as deep as from her elbow to the tip of her fingers, not large and easily managed.

  Sara pulled the top on the first back reverently, displaying sealed pots, jars, canisters, and containers of every sort, all carefully wrapped and lovingly packed. Each bore a label. Prin edged closer and peered at them, seeing the contents of one glow eerily green, and another blue like the grapes that killed Sir James, and even a yellowish fog hung around one. All breakables were wrapped in white linen to keep them safe or from tipping and spilling their contents.

  Another crate held books, and scrolls packed neatly, with folded linen to protect them from being injured as they shifted positions at sea. The third box held tools, knives, hammers, scrapers, scissors, and needles, as well as small boxes, a chest filled with small instruments, different scales, and more.

  They reverently examined the contents of each crate silently, until the last was displayed. In one corner, a small stack of thin books was safely packed in padded linen. A faint red glow emitted from them.

  Sara said, without reaching to touch them, “What are those?”

  “The translations I spoke of. Angelica’s lifetime of research. She wanted someone to carry on her work, not let it go to waste.”

  Sara lifted the book on top and carefully opened it to the first page. She read out loud, “The following is translated from a series of scrolls found in sealed clay jars in a cave high in the Maslar Mountains of Anglia. The language of them is similar to Eltham, but not the same in many respects, however, the symbols for the spells they contain are the same as we use and therefore translatable. I have done my best to preserve the original work of one of my own sisterhood, who walked those distant mountains a thousand years before my first steps in Donella.”

  Sara gently closed the book. “I see. This is amazing.”

  He waved an arm. “It is packed and ready for you to take with you. I will pay for the shipment to your home, but you must take her work with you. I am ill and cannot wait for another sorceress. If you cannot carry on her work, you must swear to pass it on where it will be treated as a treasure.”

  “Isn’t there another sorceress in this city?” Sara asked. “There are so many people.”

  “Sorcery is forbidden here. If there is one, we do not know of her.”

  “But, this is so much! So, important. I am not worthy to be entrusted with it.”

  “If I die, all you see will be a waste to the owner of this building. He will dispose of it so he can rent out the space.” His voice turned hard, “I am very ill and will not last the winter. Would you have this discarded as rubbish after my death?”

  “No, it’s far too important, but I’m so young. I’m just beginning to learn the craft. I only know a few simple spells and charms,” Sara protested.

  “Once, we were young also, and Angelica only knew a single spell, but she used it to bring us together.”

  Prin stepped forward and gave Sara’s shoulder a shove. “Forgive her. My sister is a stubborn cow.”

  They both turned to her, but Prin stood firm, arms folded over her chest. “We will accept, care for, and study all that is here. I too am a sorceress. I will personally see to it, protect it with my life, and offer you my solemn promise to do your wife proud.”

  He placed his boney hand on Prin’s shoulder. “A child’s promise, but she must accept, not you.”

  Sara stood quiet, then relented and said, “I will do it for the fee of two pairs of sailor’s shoes and the honor of buying you dinner tonight so I can find out more about your wife.”

  He began to cry softly but nodded his silent agreement.

  Sara said, “You should know we are in hiding from people in our land, so we are working on a small cargo ship named the Merry Princess. Since we keep getting lost in your city, could I give you a silver coin to hire people to deliver the crates to our ship in the morning?”

  “I have friends who will transport the crates. They will be there at your ship shortly after dawn. Now, I know of a woman who runs a small café with food like none you’ve ever tasted. May I show you the way?”

  Their dinner was served in a small, dark room in a café without windows or other patrons. Prin learned that when others said that food would be like none she ever tasted, it didn’t always mean it was going to be good. The spices mixed in the odd, fatty meat were pungent, the bread wore a crust harder than the hard bread in the breakfast kitchen, and the rest of the meal fared no better.
Prin didn’t know if the next bite would be spat out, singe her tongue, or poison her.

  Prin feigned illness before Sara could use the same excuse. Sara used the excuse that she has just eaten before entering the shoe store. The shoemaker didn’t appear to catch on. However, the watered wine was exceptional, and they talked about the shoemaker’s wife for so long they finished two full bottles.

  Leaving, they wound down and around buildings without corners, trying to follow his explicit directions, and always going lower on the hillside where they expected to find the water. Three times they had to retrace their steps and take alternate routes because of dead ends and blind alleys.

  Sara said, “He was very nice.”

  “Doing all that for his dead wife. He must have really loved her.”

  Sara didn’t respond for a few paces, and when she did, her voice was choked, “The responsibility of the treasure she left is too much. Her work should go to a sorceress of the first magnitude, one who supports a queen.”

  Prin placed her hand on Sara’s arm and stopped walking. She said, “That would be you.”

  “Me?”

  Prin continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “As a royal princess, you are my sorceress. That sounds strange in the circumstances we’re in today, but in ten years I may sit on the throne and do you believe I’ll have another as my sorceress?”

  Tears streamed down Sara’s cheeks. “I never think ten years ahead.”

  “I always do,” Prin said. “You are my mentor and the only person in the word I trust.”

  Sara said, “I don’t know how all this can be happening to me. I’m just a woman from a small village who sells a potent or love charm now and then.”

  Prin said, “Change of subject. I think I just saw Jam again.”

  “His father is going to hear about this.”

  “What will you say to the captain about the crates?”

  Sara paused. “We will pay for their passage, of course. But, we will say that they are being sent to Indore to our father, the spice merchant. We know nothing of what is in them, but the books. We will need them to study on our trip.”

  “We forgot the shoes,” Prin said, adjusting the things she carried as she glanced around for Jam again.

  “They will be with the crates in the morning, I’ll bet.”

  “We don’t even know his name,” Prin said.

  “We don’t have to. But we will honor him and his wife by continuing her work. Do you understand what an honor it is to do that? And what a treasure of sorcery she left for us.”

  “For you. I will be too busy being queen.”

  Sara said, “I don’t know everything about kings and queens, but help me out by explaining something I’ve been thinking about because there may be a way out for you.”

  “I don’t understand a lot of it, either.”

  “Sooner or later the king will die. His son will become king. But, any of the son’s children will step ahead of all others, so your best hope is that he has a dozen children. Then, all the rest does not matter. I can make a love charm and perhaps find him a good wife.”

  “I was told by a reliable source that the king’s son has a very handsome boyfriend.”

  Sara said, “Oh. And the two after him are uncles, one ill and the other too old.”

  “Then there is me.”

  “What if you never went back?”

  Prin shook her head and pursed her lips. “That will never happen for a good reason. It would mean the one after me would be crowned king or queen, probably the one who is trying to have me killed. If you think there is a manhunt for me now, can you imagine that person trying to prevent me from returning and taking the crown after he or she has been coronated?”

  “I see.”

  “Besides, it means that person won. It says they killed my father, Sir James, and William, all who were going to have me as their daughter, and they got away with it. That won’t happen.”

  Sara paused and said, “That look in your eye. Please, never direct it at me.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “I know.”

  Another few turns brought them to the head of the pier where the Merry Princess sat tied up. Another ship, one three times as large, was now on the other side of the pier, and longshoremen were hard at work unloading its cargo. As they walked down the wooden pier, Sara suggested they watch the process.

  “Why?” Prin asked.

  “Two reasons. One is that we might learn how a larger ship does things and we can maybe use something we learn to better our ship. The other reason is that your friend Jam is hiding behind the corner of that house with the bright green curtains in the window. If we stay here, he cannot come out without revealing himself. He will be uncomfortable hiding there on a hot afternoon.”

  Prin found a crate of convenient height and sat with a smile. “Maybe we could get dinner delivered here by one of the crew?”

  “Only if dinner comes from our ship and not from Donella.” They laughed at the remembered awful food and watched the crane unload the cargo while making comments on how it was done, but in the end, they found no methods to improve on those the Merry Princess already used, and more than one that the larger ship might consider trying.

  They were tired of sitting and watching, when Sara said, “Here comes the bos’n.”

  Prin turned to find him striding, almost stalking in their direction, his fists balled, a scowl on his face. She hissed, without moving her lips, “Uh-oh.”

  “Do the two of you know anything about Jam slipping off the ship?”

  Sara said, “Yes, sir, we do.”

  “Then, you’re going to explain it to the captain.”

  Sara said, “We didn’t help him and didn’t know he did it until we spotted him spying on us in the city. In fact, we know where he is right now. He’s hiding behind the corner of that building with the green curtains. He can’t get back to the ship without revealing himself. That’s why we’re sitting here.”

  The bos’n said, “How long has he been there?”

  Prin held up her water bottle. “Long enough for me to sip this almost to the bottom. He has to be hot and thirsty.”

  “Why don’t you two ladies go back to the ship and get something to eat and relax. Tell the captain what’s happening, so he does not worry about Jam. I think I’ll sit here and watch the crew of that ship do their jobs and maybe I’ll catch a restricted crewman trying to sneak back onto my ship.”

  They gathered their packages and scooted away, leaving the bos’n positioned where he could see the longshoremen at work, and the entrance to the pier. Prin said, “I wouldn’t want to be Jam. But you know, he’ll somehow blame this on me.”

  “It’s his fault,” Sara said.

  “He heard us talking the other night. He knows there is a reward for me.”

  “Another subject I may bring up to the captain at the right time. He took us on because of El, and I don’t think El would be pleased if that brat gets you captured.” Sara increased her pace as if she couldn’t wait to speak to the captain.

  Once they stored their belongings, Sara went to the wheelhouse while Prin carried one of her new books about horses to a place near the bow where a hatch cover was sitting aside for loading and unloading. It provided a shady location to rest and read—and to keep watch on the bos’n in the distance.

  The book was a good one for several reasons. Most pages held a drawing on the page on the left, and the words on the page on the right described what was happening in the drawing. It helped her understand the sentences, and even guess correctly at a few words. Unfortunately, there were only thirty pages, and she was more than half done when the bos’n stood.

  Her eyes went to the edge of the buildings. Jam walked slowly, and unsteadily, to where the bos’n waited. His chin hung to his chest, and his arms were limp at his sides. The bos’n spoke to him, then places an arm around Jam’s shoulders to guide him to the ship.

  They walked up the gangplank, then
to the ladder and up to the wheelhouse where the captain no doubt waited. As they entered, Sara scooted out and slipped down to join Prin.

  Sara asked, “How’s your book?”

  “Good.”

  They talked and watched the strange city as the sky darkened. The buildings became peppered with yellow lights in the tiny windows. Prin said, “It gets cold at night, here.”

  “The closeness of the buildings and the thick walls and small windows show how people change to fit where they live.”

  Prin watched the other ship in port. She said, “I’m glad we got on a small ship instead of one like that.”

  Sara didn’t answer.

  Prin said, “What are you thinking about?”

  “How lucky we are.”

  “Lucky? We’re running for my life,” Prin said.

  “And we own a warehouse and workroom in Indore, and in the morning, we’ll own the books a sorceress gave us with work from a thousand years ago. Do you realize what that means?”

  “I guess I don’t.”

  “It means a lifetime of work from a sorceress who lived across a sea and collected information from others who have passed on. Some of the spells are one or two hundred years old, some a thousand. The spells may have never been seen or heard of in Indore, or at home.”

  “We could share them with Evelyn.”

  “And more. With the right spells, we might find ways to allow you and I go home in safety.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The following morning, the crew was awake and working hard as the sun rose over the mountain peaks. More cargo had arrived on the pier during the night, all ready to be stored in the ship’s holds or on deck. Prin had been called to the wheelhouse to meet with the captain, before eating.

  Both Prin and Sara wore a set of their new ‘sailor suits’ and enjoyed the bending and stiffness of the course material. Of course, they suffered many rude comments from the other crewmen, all said in friendly ways with much laughter. Prin felt almost part of the crew for the first time.

  When she reached the top of the ladder to the wheelhouse, the captain stood looking out over the deck, watching every aspect of the loading with a critical eye. From there, he could see nearly all the ship, even down into the cargo holds. She heard the bos’n shout at someone, and the captain nodded in agreement. His attention flicked in her direction, then back to his work.