by Jo Spurrier
‘Oh,’ he said. ‘No, I’m afraid not. I didn’t have enough money left for that. And the folks I bought him from said he’d stay fat on grass but I suppose that was another lie, wasn’t it?’
I didn’t answer that. ‘You said you make medicinal charms, is that right?’
He nodded in silence.
‘You should make one for him, if you can.’
He looked at me in surprise. ‘What for?’
‘He’s spavined. Look here.’ I brought him close to the skinny gelding’s hindquarters and ran a hand over the horse’s hocks. ‘See these bony lumps? Touch them, they’re quite warm.’
‘Spavined?’ he said. ‘Someone else told me that, but I don’t know what it means.’
‘Like when old folks’ knuckles swell up and ache,’ I said.
‘Oh! You mean arthritis?’
I shrugged. ‘I guess so. He’s going to have a hard time hauling your cart once you get up into the mountains, but if you’ve got some charm that will help him . . .’
‘Maybe. Maybe I could sell them more easily if folk can see that they work. But I don’t think I’ll be going to the mountains. That’s where . . . that’s where the warlocks went, isn’t it?’
‘Who?’ I said, and then I understood and felt stupid. ‘The cloaked riders?’
Brian nodded and shivered. ‘They’re evil. I could feel it, as soon as they drew close. We were warned about folk like that, back at the University. Good gods, I wasn’t sure I believed it . . .’
‘What did he want?’
He looked away, sucking in his cheeks. ‘I, I don’t know. I don’t remember. But I don’t want to risk running into him again. I’m going to find a different road, go somewhere else. I’ve heard the mountains are all witches’ territory, anyway, it’s no place for a civilised man.’
Witches? I almost said it aloud, and I was glad I hadn’t — it would have come out as a sneer and the poor fellow had had enough of that already, to my mind.
‘Miss Elodie,’ he said, taking off his velvet cap. ‘I can’t thank you enough for your help. If this happened back in the city I’d have been robbed blind. I wouldn’t even have the clothes on my back.’
I frowned. ‘Is that really what it’s like in the cities?’ I’d been told as much, but I’d never believed it, on the principle that I couldn’t trust any of the rot that came out of Lem’s stupid mouth. ‘Most folk out here aren’t so bad. Like Yosh said yesterday, today you, tomorrow me.’
‘Today you, tomorrow me.’ He said the words back as though they were strange and unfamiliar. ‘I see. How interesting. But you must allow me to find some way to repay your kindness, miss. Perhaps I . . .’ He flushed. ‘I know you don’t believe in it, but, well, perhaps I can change your mind. I could tell your fortune, if you wish?’
I frowned. I’d seen fortune-tellers at the market, back when I was still allowed to go. Even then I’d wondered about the folk who wasted good money on them. ‘I haven’t any coin,’ I told him. ‘None at all.’
‘Of course, my dear, I wouldn’t dream of charging you.’
‘Well then, I suppose — wait.’ I had a thought, of the letter tucked away in my carry-basket. ‘I just need to go fetch something. I’ll be right back.’
When I returned, Brian had brought out a little wooden trunk, and carefully set it down in the dust beside his cart, giving us an illusion of privacy even though Yosh and Sal sat beside the fire only a short way away.
I settled down across from him and handed him the letter.
‘What’s this?’
‘My letter of employment.’
He looked puzzled. ‘Oh, you want to know if your new master or mistress will be kindly? Perhaps if you will find love?’
I shook my head. ‘No, no. I want to know where this letter came from.’
He pursed his lips. ‘My dear, I’m afraid I don’t understand.’
‘My stepfather said that I’d never leave our farm. I was supposed to stay there and look after him and Ma forever. He’d never have sent off to find a position for me. So who did?’
‘Perhaps your mother?’
That made me sit up straighter as a little thrill rippled through me. Perhaps it was Ma. Perhaps she did want more for me than a lifetime of drudgery.
But the feeling ebbed away as quickly as it had come. Ma never went against Lem. She’d never sneak around behind his back like that.
I didn’t want to go airing my dirty laundry in front of Brian, though, so I just shrugged. ‘Maybe. Would you see it, if that’s the case?’
‘Most likely. Let’s take a look, shall we?’
From the box he took out a piece of painted cloth and laid it ceremoniously on the ground. It was decorated with a many-pointed star, and all around the edge were strange symbols and words.
Brian reached into his shirt and pulled out a pendant on a long chain that hung around his neck. He lifted it over his head and held it by the very end of the chain while the pendant swung to and fro below. It was carved from a purple stone, not flat like most pendants but a glittering, faceted spike.
‘Now, in a matter like this it is best to proceed with questions that may be answered definitively with an affirmative or a negative . . . uh, I mean, a simple yes or no,’ Brian said.
‘Don’t you have to, I don’t know, light some candles or some incense?’ I said, resting my chin on my fist. ‘Summon some spirits?’
‘Well, I could, but good candles are expensive. And I’m still feeling rather weak . . .’
I straightened. ‘Oh, I was just teasing. I don’t need all that frippery.’ To be truthful, though, I was a little disappointed. This was nothing like what I’d glimpsed inside the fortune-teller’s tent years ago, all hung with rich velvet and silk, and lit by coloured lanterns. On the other hand, it wasn’t costing me a penny, so I supposed it was silly to fuss.
‘Ah. Well, let us begin.’ He leaned forward, focusing on the pendant, which swayed gently over the painted star. ‘Was the young lady’s employment arranged by her stepfather?’
The pointed stone was swinging gently at the end of the chain, but now the arc grew larger, faster, and the line of it changed until it was swinging firmly across the precise middle of the cloth.
‘Well that seems quite clear,’ Brian said.
‘It does?’
‘It says no, you see?’ He gestured to a word painted beside those points on the star.
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘I’m afraid I can’t read.’
He glanced up in surprise. ‘Oh! I thought everyone learned to read, nowadays.’
‘Not me!’ I said brightly, hoping that would be enough to dissuade him from prying further. ‘Was it my mother, then?’
We both peered intently at the stone. There was no change. The answer was no.
‘Was it someone known to Elodie?’ Brian said.
The swinging line didn’t change.
‘Perhaps we should ask a known affirmative to be certain the calibration is correct,’ Brian said.
His convoluted way of talking was starting to annoy me, but I guessed at what he meant. ‘Am I sixteen years old?’ I asked.
The arc of the stone grew gradually smaller, and instead of swinging back and forth it started to circle briefly, and then it settled into a new arc, crosswise to the first. ‘It says yes,’ Brian said. I refrained from rolling my eyes. Just because I can’t read, doesn’t mean I’m stupid.
‘Will her new mistress be kind?’ he said, before I could think of another question.
The swinging of the stone slowed, and it started to circle once more. I held my breath, waiting for it to return to no, but it didn’t. It just kept swinging in a haphazard circle, sometimes large, sometimes small. ‘What does that mean?’
‘I’m afraid the answer is unclear,’ Brian said with a frown. ‘Perhaps that wasn’t the best question to ask. Will she find happiness, and perhaps love?’ He gave me a sly look, wriggling his sparse eyebrows, and I couldn’t help but giggle.
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nbsp; The stone swung back to yes, making my chest feel tight and breathless. ‘So,’ I said. ‘My mistress will be mean, but I’ll find myself a beau?’
‘No, no, not mean. If she were mean it would have answered no. Instead, it gave us no answer. To be fair, it was a bad question to ask, pendulums don’t do well with subjective questions. For example, I could ask if the weather will be good tomorrow, and it might say yes even if it will rain, because the farmers around us will be glad of it.’
‘I see. Can I try asking some questions?’
‘By all means,’ he said.
I leaned close to the stone. I wasn’t sure why. ‘Will I ever have to go home to Lem again?’
I held my breath.
The stone circled, and then settled onto no.
My heart was beating harder now. ‘Will I be free?’
The stone slowed, circled, and settled to yes once again.
I could feel Brian’s eyes on me, but I didn’t meet his gaze. Strangely, it felt like he wasn’t really there, he wasn’t a part of this experience except to hold the chain and act as a guide here and there.
There was one more question burning in my mind. Perhaps it wasn’t the sort the pendulum could answer, but I had to ask it. I might never get another chance. ‘Who sent the letter?’
The stone slowed. Circled. And then it fell still. Utterly still, hanging straight down to point at the centre of the star.
I lifted my head to meet the wizard’s gaze, and then there was a pop, and with a muttered curse Brian winced and pulled his hand away, shaking it as though it smarted.
The pendulum had fallen. It lay on the cloth with the chain pooled around it. I bit my lip as Brian gingerly picked it up, examining the stone and then the chain for damage.
‘What happened?’
‘I, I’m not sure. That was . . . that was very strange. Very strange indeed.’ With a grimace, he tucked the stone away. ‘I think we ought to stop there. In my experience nothing good comes of prying too deeply into things we are not meant to know.’
I wanted to argue with him. Oh, how I wanted to argue, but he was looking poorly once again and I reminded myself sharply that he’d had a difficult day. I still had no idea what the black rider had done to him, and here in our lonely camp under a black sky I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
‘Well,’ I said, folding up the letter and gathering my skirts, ready to stand. ‘Many thanks for the reading. You were right, I didn’t believe in it at all, but now . . .’ Even as I said the words, I was wondering if I’d merely heard what I wanted to hear. Surely not, though, or he’d have told me I was going to serve a wealthy mistress who would die peacefully and leave me all her fortune. ‘What was it Yosh said yesterday? The Astounding Brian? Well, consider me astounded.’
He gave me a shy smile. ‘You are too kind, miss. And I truly am grateful for the companionship I have been shown these last two days. I wish you the best of fortune, miss, but I’m afraid in the morning we must part ways. I will not risk crossing paths with that, that creature again. Now I really must find my bed. Goodnight, Miss Elodie.’
‘Goodnight,’ I said.
Early next morning, while we were all still abed, I woke to the sound of the wizard driving away, his rickety cart rattling and squeaking behind the skinny horse. I truly was sad to see him go. I kept thinking about him and his pendulum, turning the questions and answers the stone had given me over and over in my mind as we started the slow climb into the mountains.
It was a little after midday on the fourth day that Yosh called to his beasts to stop and let the heavy wagon ease to a halt. ‘Well, lass,’ he said, pointing to a road-marker, a large stone engraved with a set of letters. ‘That points the way to the village.’
Black Oak Cottage lay on the other side of the village of Lilsfield, according to the letter. Yosh had read it to me again that morning, and then quizzed me on it, like I was some idiot child, to make sure I knew the way.
‘I’m sorry we can’t see you there proper,’ Yosh said, ‘but we’ll lose a full day taking you there and headin’ back.’
‘I don’t mind the walk,’ I said, heaving my pack-basket down and jumping after it. After so long on the wagon I’d be glad to stretch my legs. ‘Thanks for seeing me this far, Yosh.’
‘All the best to ye, girl.’ With a click of his tongue, he got the oxen moving again. Atop the piled wagon, Sal gaily waved. I waved back at her but she was already turning away, watching the road ahead.
With a sigh, I heaved my basket onto my back, settling the leather straps on my shoulders, and eyed the road-marker. Lilsfield, was it? I knew a few of the letters, but not all. Underneath them were another few symbols — one of them was a number; six, I thought. Which meant the ones after it must read miles. Wonderful. I’d best get walking, then.
Back home at the farm the land was flat and dusty with more grass than trees, but this landscape was more like where we’d lived back when my Da was still alive — from what I could remember from so long ago, at least. The road was bordered by thick forest with only the occasional open field; the bare earth was dark and moist, not pale and sandy like the roads at home, and the ground beside the track was thick with ferns, lush and green.
I didn’t pass anyone on the road, but I did stumble over a very strange set of tracks. They looked like the prints the hens left in the dust back at home, except they were sunk a full six inches into the damp earth, and were easily as long as my arm. I frowned at them for a few moments before going on my way with a roll of my eyes. Young lads playing a game, no doubt. Still, there was worse mischief they could get up to than cobbling together giant chicken feet to play tricks on travellers.
It was well past mid-afternoon when I finally reached Lilsfield, foot-sore and weary, and it too struck me as alien and strange. Back home the houses were built of costly stone or cheap rammed earth, with roofs of thatch. But here the buildings were all made of rough-hewn logs stacked together, roofed with wooden shingles and with heavy shutters on all the windows. Most of them were tightly closed. Lilsfield was nestled into a little valley, and though there were some fields and gardens behind the buildings clustered around the main road, beyond them stood a wall of trees.
I made straight for the well, and had to pick up my skirts to keep them out of the mud around the well-head. My little water bottle had run out long ago. I balanced it on the wall to fill it with the dipper and then wet my spare handkerchief to wash my face and my hands.
The water tasted different to that of home, too. I drank slowly while looking around. The road had been deserted, but there was a little more life in the village. I heard a hammer ringing out from a building sign-posted with an anvil, while a lad riding one pony and leading another ambled up the road towards it. He stared at me, unblinking, as though I were some peculiar beast with two heads. I crossed my eyes at him, but he seemed not to notice.
Nearby was a laden wagon halted beneath a sign painted with a boar’s head with an apple in its mouth, and across the road from it another sturdy wooden building, sporting a sign with a picture of scissors and a spool of thread — a general store. Somewhere nearby I heard the muffled sound of a baby grizzling with tiredness and a woman singing the little one to sleep, and I felt a pang of sadness for my little brothers and sisters back at home. By the time I saw them again they’d be well past naps and singing, and who knew how many more babies Ma might have. Lucette would have to help her look after them now. I only hoped she could find the patience for it.
I rested a little longer beside the well before picking up my basket once again. The village had one main road, with a smaller fork leading northward — at least I thought it was north; it was hard to tell with the winding of the road and the sky now hidden by clouds. I knew I was supposed to take the westward path, but the letter had neglected to mention how far the cottage lay beyond Lilsfield. I turned my face towards the path, only to hesitate. The folk who lived here must know how far I had to go. It couldn’t hurt to ask, surely?
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I crossed the road to the general store. It had one big window displaying a couple of bolts of cloth, a spinning wheel and some glass lanterns. The door struck a bell as I opened it and inside it was very dark, smelling of lamp-oil and beeswax.
The chime of the bell brought a woman, quite tall, wearing a matched skirt and jacket with her hair pinned up so that not a wisp came free. She was so neat and trim that I felt very much the country girl with my dirty boots, my skirt hiked up into my belt and my hair coming loose from its braid. I stood as still as possible to keep from shedding mud on her floor as the woman looked down at me over spectacles perched on the tip of her nose. ‘Who are you?’ she demanded.
Her lack of manners made me stutter. ‘G-good afternoon, ma’am, my name is Elodie Forster. I’ve been hired to Black Oak Cottage . . .’ I’d made a good start but the ache of my shoulders and my tired legs scrambled my thoughts before I could get to the end. ‘Could, could you tell me how much further I’ve got to go? Please?’
‘Black Oak,’ she said, scowling. ‘You’ve been hired to Black Oak Cottage.’ Her voice was flat and her gaze made me wither.
‘I . . . yes, miss, I mean, ma’am.’
‘Where have you come from, lass?’ she demanded, still scowling.
‘From Burswood Farm, ma’am, though that’s a fair way from here, down past Riverton—’
‘What about today, where have you come from today?’
She asked with such an odd intensity that I stammered to reply. ‘F-from the sign to Lilsfield, back on the big road.’ I jerked my thumb over my shoulder in the rough direction. ‘That’s where the teamster let me down.’
The woman huffed and rang a bell on the counter beside her with a rapid, incessant chime, though she didn’t take her eyes off me.
‘Coming, coming,’ a man’s voice grumbled from the back of the store. The fellow who appeared looked exactly as I’d pictured a mountain man, with a thick grey beard halfway down his chest and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His arms bore an impressive thatch of hair well gone to grey, as did his head. He made me think of a bear from my siblings’ books, with his broad shoulders and the bulk of his belly hanging over his belt. He gave the woman an exasperated look. ‘What’s the matter?’