Beezle slowly opened the bundle and exclaimed, “Mercy, would you look at that!”
Mercy is exactly what would not have happened if Bertram had been caught with what we were looking at. Wrapped in the bundle were several very well-made coin pouches with distinctive crests on them and a very finely crafted knife with an ebony handle topped by a fine fox head with emerald eyes. What was worse was I knew who had made that knife blade, and who had made the handle.
“I know this knife,” said Beezle. “It belongs to Lord Crestly, who was visiting Tverdal fair representing the Crown and who was complaining loudly and often to anyone who would listen about his missing knife. We all thought he was being rather obnoxious about it, as though he had lost an ancient family heirloom.”
“Only if you think being four years old is ancient,” said Bertram dryly.
“Lord Crestly?” Beezle inquired with a slight teasing tone to his voice.
“The knife,” stated Bertram. “The fox head is my work.”
“Not the knife and handle?” Beezle asked.
“Nay. I would wish I could produce a blade that fine, but ’twas the work of Thorval Pedersen. I don’t know if he made the handle, for he never said.”
“You mean the man the Regent’s men have been scouring the countryside for?” Beezle asked.
“Aye, ’tis the very same. A fine metal smith and a fine man. We worked together upon occasion, and I often would buy several of his blades when our paths would cross.”
A number of thoughts occurred to me almost simultaneously. One, I knew that blade for I had been the one to put the handle on it, and then it struck me that if the blade had been made just four years prior that meant Bertram may have seen me with my mother and Da. Had he recognized me and not said anything, or had I changed enough that he did not recognize me? Second, I was having second thoughts about whether the intruders were trying to put the bundle in the homewagon, or rather, trying to take it out. If it had been placed in the homewagon prior to our leaving Tverdal, then if Master Clarisse had not stopped our homewagons from being searched, would Bertram have been arrested for being a thief? Hard on the heels of that thought came the thought that perhaps we had best look through our homewagons and carts before we left the next day. Just as those ideas had passed quickly through my mind, another came when Beezle emptied the first of the pouches on the table. Tumbling out were ten to twelve silver coins and three gold coins. It struck me odd that there were no copper coins in that bag or in the bags that followed.
“Excuse me,” I said to get their attention. “I know this may seem a bit of sideways thinking, but I wonder if the intruders were taking the bundle away from the homewagon rather than putting the bundle into the homewagon.” They all looked at me as if I had been sneaking into the wine cellar while they had been speaking and was now drink muddled. “I realize it may sound a bit crazy, but what if the bundle had been placed in your homewagon prior to our leaving Tverdal, and the whole roadblock set up was just that, a set up. Their express purpose for the roadblock was to trap us. Between the knife and the fortune the coin in those bags represents, someone went to a great deal of expense. Once the roadblock did not work, the intruders were sent to retrieve the bundle before we discovered it. Had Bertram been caught, the knife and the bags of coin would have been returned to their owners for they are all clearly identifiable.”
As I looked about the room, I could almost see when each one had thought through what I had said and was beginning to accept the idea as a real possibility.
Master Clarisse nodded her head and said, “Perhaps we should all take the time to check our wagons and carts more thoroughly before we head off in the morning. No, on second thought, now might be a good time.”
“I don’t know how they found us this night, and I wouldn’t put it past them to try something else now that we have disrupted their plan, whatever that might have been,” suggested Bertram. “I agree with Master Clarisse that we should get back to the wagons and check them out.”
Bertram, I noticed, once he began to talk, was much more of a take charge type of individual than I had suspected. What he said made sense, however, and so leaving the bundle with Beezle, we each returned to our respective wagons and began the search. I found nothing in my homewagon, except for a few unexpected spiders, which I gently removed to the outside. My cart was a different story, and I almost missed it. Farmer Miles brought over fresh dry hay for us to put the contents of my cart on, and nothing seemed amiss. I pulled out all the tools, and my stock of wood, plus my selling stock, and I found nothing unusual. I almost did not look in the satchels of herbs that Nana had packed, but thought better of that idea. I did not discover anything until the last satchel, of course.
At first, I did not notice anything different in the poor light from the lanterns. The color of the bags inside the satchel all looked the same, but then I noticed that one of the bags was tied differently. Nana had a very particular way of tying her bags, and one of the bags was tied quite sloppily. I did not want to open it in the dim light, so I put everything back into the cart and then headed up to the farmhouse. I called on Mistress Deaver and asked if she had a still house. She said, of course, but told me she was not the one in charge of it.
“Mahoganee’s daughter Siri is in charge of our still house,” Mistress Deaver stated. “She is an amazing woman and does an outstanding job, all things considered. She’s blind, but that doesn’t seem to make one wit of difference. Says she can tell what she is working with just by smell alone. One of my daughters is training under her, and between the two of them, we have one of the best stocked stillrooms in Glendalen, not to mention our elderberry wine is renowned in these parts. Do you need to speak to her?”
I nodded yes.
“Randolph,” she said, motioning to one of her sons, “go run, and if Siri is still up, ask her to meet us at the still house, if you would please.”
To explain why I wanted to talk to their herbalist, I told her what had happened. “I found an herb bag that at first glance looked like one of N . . ., mm . . ., mine,” I stumbled almost saying Nana but hopefully recovering well enough. “That is, it looks like one of mine, but it’s not tied the way I tie them. At first I thought it might have been one I had out at the fair and someone had opened it and then put it back, but I didn’t take that satchel out of the cart while at the Tverdal fair. I want someone who is more knowledgeable than I am to check inside the bag to make sure it’s not harmful and, if I can’t judge what it is, who could perhaps help me identify it.”
While we waited for Randolph to return, Carz handled the fuss made over him by Dalia until her mother made her reluctantly head off to bed. Then Mistress Deaver motioned me to follow her, and Beezle fell in behind, accompanied by Carz and Master Clarisse.
As we reached the still house I could just make out two folks crossing the farmyard heading towards us. Mistress Deaver’s daughter was easy to identify for she had the look of her mother and the fiery red hair of her father. The other one was equally striking with long black hair and a very clear, darkly tanned complexion. She walked with confidence across the yard with long strides, and if Mistress Deaver had not told me she is blind, I would not have guessed that. The pair came to a stop just in front of our small gathering, and Mistress Deaver introduced us.
“You know Beezle, of course,” said Mistress Deaver, “and this is the rover Nissa Anissasdatter and Master Clarisse.”
“There is one you have not introduced me to,” Siri said, in a voice so melodic it was almost like singing, as she inclined her head in Carz’ direction.
“This is Carz, Mistress, a hunting cat,” I said. To my amazement, Carz stepped forward, and I would swear he made a bow to her. No one else seemed to notice.
“Well met, hunter,” Siri replied and inclined her head in Carz’ direction. “Well met indeed. Now that introductions are over, what do you need? Did you find something more?”
It did not surprise me that Siri was aware of what had transpired, for news travels fast on a farm just like in a small village. I explained to her that I had found a bag that was not one of mine and wanted someone with more knowledge than I have to decide how to proceed. I had not wanted to just open the bag, sniff or handle what was in the bag, in case it was dangerous. She agreed caution was needed. Siri then quickly had Rose, Mistress Deaver’s daughter, bring a small table out and asked her to fetch several bright lanterns.
“Not for me of course,” she said with a laugh in her voice, “but for the rest of you. Rose, bring a glass jar with a wide mouth, the kind that has a lid that locks down. If there is something harmful in that bag, we will not want to have it blowing about, and we will want to contain it. Ah, thank you. Now Nissa, let’s see what you have.”
I watched as she pulled on gloves and then reached out for the bag.
“Rose, don’t forget your gloves,” she said. “Good, now all of you step back, and I am going to tip the contents into this jar. Rose, be ready with the lid and fasten it on fast if I tell you to.”
Siri tipped the bag into the jar, and to my surprise, neither powder nor leaves poured out, but rather what looked to be a dozen small packets wrapped in a very dark paper. I could see a symbol stamped on one side of the paper, but the symbol was meaningless to me.
“Ah, no need for that lid Rose, thank you,” Siri said as she pulled her gloves off. “Tell me, Nissa, how many small packets fell into the jar? About a dozen, I’d say.”
“Yes,” I answered, not being able to keep the surprise out of my voice.
“Ah, I’m sorry, I just couldn’t resist. The dozen guess was not based on anything other than I recognized the smell instantly, and knew that this particular powder usually comes in small packets in groups of twelve. There should be a symbol stamped on the packet. Someone once described it as looking like a spider with wings.”
Beezle laughed and said that that was a pretty accurate description, and then asked what was in the packets.
“It is from a rather rare mountain goat. The few of them left are in carefully guarded herds. Cheese from their milk is an unbelievable treasure on the palate and more coveted by some than rare jewels.”
“That’s what is in these packets then, cheese?” I exclaimed.
“No, no, I am sorry. What is in the packet is powder made from grinding up the horn from these particular goats,” Siri apologized.
“Why would having this powder be a problem?” I inquired. “Don’t the goats shed their horns each winter and then grow them again in the summer?”
“Yes, they do, but this powder is not taken from the horns that have been dropped in the pasture. Poachers cut the horns off the live goats and leave them unable to defend themselves from predators, or in some cases, leave them dead. The Crown declared it illegal to possess any of this powder, under threat of great penalty if found with it. I trained in the capitol for awhile under one of the royal herbalists and so had the opportunity to know its smell.”
“But why would anyone want it?” asked Beezle, which was a question that I wanted answered too.
“Some folks think by adding this powder to their drink they can have great visions. There is some type of ritual that goes along with the drinking of the powder which takes twelve days, and much fasting, thus the twelve packets. Frankly, I think someone having visions has little to do with the powder and more to do with the fasting. I will see that this is disposed of properly, if you will allow me.”
I certainly was not going to have any objections to that. I thanked Siri, but as I turned to go, she gently put a hand on my arm and said, “It is late and Rose has duties early tomorrow morning. Would you be so kind as to assist me?”
I told her I would be happy to and waved to the others as they said goodnight, once again hoping this would be the last time. Siri asked me to come into the still house and took out a large bucket, which she had me fill three quarters full of water, and then she added the several herbs and a few really foul-smelling drops from a small vial.
“Just pour the packets into the water. Don’t bother to open them for the paper will dissolve. Let me give it a stir. Ah, that should neutralize it. You know your way around the still house, do you not, rover lass?” Siri stated.
“I, um, I am somewhat familiar, yes,” I answered hesitantly.
“Are you tired?” Siri then asked, and I was having a hard time following her questions.
“No, not really.”
“Would you and your hunting cat walk with me then and join me for a late night cup of tea?”
I told her that would be fine although I was not sure that Carz was a big fan of tea, and she laughed as she asked me to blow out the lights. She followed me out the door and locked it. Then she took my arm and directed me to walk towards the barns. We walked in silence, and I was surprised at how comfortable I felt with this woman. She seemed to exude calm, and after the happenings in the last few days, it was a welcome feeling. After walking past the wagons, she directed me to walk towards a small cottage. We soon reached it, and she led us inside.
“You will find a lamp hanging on the wall just inside the door to the right. There are tapers in a box on the table just below. There are embers in the fire you can light the taper off of. Most of my guests feel more comfortable with a light on. To me, it makes no difference,” Siri explained.
I did as she asked, and soon we were settled in chairs close to the fire, sipping a very hot chamomile tea, with Carz settled on the hearth rug.
“I would talk with you for awhile. I sense that while you travel with the other rovers, you are of them, but you are not their kin. Is that correct?”
“Yes,” I answered.
“I also sense the master glassmaker and her apprentice are new in your life, and you are not quite sure of her. Yet I think you can trust her, but then I think trust is not something you give easily at this point in your life, and I am making you uncomfortable.”
I had not known I was squirming in my seat, and perhaps I was not, but she was right, I was very uncomfortable.
“Please hear me out. The Jalcones are just what they say they are. Traveling merchants and good folks. The rovers you travel with are just that also. Master Clarisse is certainly a master in her trade, but I feel she is more and can help in whatever is to come. She and Evan are in your life for reasons of their own, but also because fate has sent them to you. Another you can count on is Beezle. I am sure at this point in the conversation, you are wondering why I am giving you this advice,” stated Siri.
I had wondered and found myself between wanting to hear more of what she would say and dashing into the night. Her next words only increased my anxiety.
“In you, I sense you are who you say you are, and yet are not. You travel with this group heading to the fairs, yet that is not your sole purpose. You possess something that will place you in danger’s path, something that can heal this land. You carry burdens beyond your years. You are Neebing blessed. Please do not fear me for I want to help. The trade off for my loss of sight has been the increase in what might be termed a sixth sense. I am not the only one in the world who has this gift, nor is it the exclusive gift of those who have lost their vision. When I took your arm for our walk, do you remember my hand jerking slightly, and you asked if I was alright?”
I thought back to that moment and remembered her hand touching my arm and then jerking back. I had thought at the time she had stumbled or tripped on something.
“Yes,” I answered.
“When I touched your arm, I felt a surge of power and heat like nothing I have ever felt before. I do not think it is something everyone would feel touching you, but someone with heightened senses might. I suspect that you are carrying something on you that is an object of power and it is not properly shielded. I would like to help, for it could place you in danger and might alert others of what you carry if they come in contact with you,” Siri said.
I was torn. Siri sounded so sincere and helpful. I really wanted to trust her, and I knew she must be talking about the rings that hung around my neck. I was going to have to trust someone at some point, and so I took a chance.
“If someone had some type of object of power, whatever that means, what would you do to create a shield?” I questioned.
“The easiest way would be to place it in cloth woven from the thread of the golden pine spider. Something about the thread masks the object and keeps it from being recognized by those who might be able to read it. I do not need to know what you possess, for that knowledge might be dangerous, but I do have the cloth you need. Will you trust me to make what you need?” Siri asked.
I remembered Carz’ actions when he had first met Siri, that small almost imperceptible bow he had given her. I remembered my first reaction to being in her presence and decided to take a chance.
“I have an object that is about the size of a double gold piece on a cord around my neck. What do I need?”
“I have what I think will work. Now where did I put that?” Siri said to herself, as she got up and moved to the built-in cupboards to the left of the fire. It took her a few minutes of riffling through several small baskets before she said “Ah, here it is. This should do quite nicely. Take a look.”
I took the small object from her hand and looked at it in the lamp light. The diminutive pouch was dark and of a very fine weave. A cord ran through the top of it, acting as a draw string, and was long enough that I could tie the ends and use it to hang the bag around my neck.
“You say the object you have hangs from a cord?” Siri asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“Place the object in the pouch, and then if you would allow me, hand me the pouch.”
I did as Siri asked, and with a few clever twists of her hands, she wove the pouch cord with the cord that held the rings so that they were now one cord.
“There, that should work and the strength of the cord made from the golden pine spider silk should add strength to your cord and make the combination very hard to break. I cannot feel anything emanating from the pouch now, which is good,” she said as she handed me back the pouch, and I put it over my head. “Guard it well, and look to your friends. You need not be as alone as you have been. Now you must be tired. You are welcome to stay here this night.”
As reluctant as I was to leave Siri’s company and the prospect of a warm bed, I thanked her for her words and her help and headed back to my homewagon with Carz. She had given me much food for thought, the least of which was that she apparently knew about Neebings and what did that mean, I was Neebing blessed?