Title Page
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER Five
CHAPTER six
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER Nine
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
THE SECRET OF MAGIK AND DRAGONS
T. L. Frye
Published by DreamPunk Press
(Norfolk, Virginia)
in association with the Word Wall Cooperative.
(Norfolk, Virginia Beach, Pungo)
Edited by Cynthia Shepp
www.cynthiashepp.com
Cover Design by Rene Folsom
www.phycel.com
The Secret of Magik and Dragons
Copyright © 2013 T. L. Frye
All rights reserved.
Norfolk, VA
www.dreampunkpress.com
For information about permission to reproduce sections of this book, contact the author through the website above.
AUTHOR DEDICATION
Many thanks to everyone who helped me put this book together.
In the beginning, my daughter and her middle school friends who read it and asked for more, and my brother who read it and said it was hard to put down. In the middle, the Word Wall Cooperative, who supported me in the revisions, and let me know it was okay to say someone’s suggestion was bunk. And for the finale, my editor, Cynthia, who did so much more than edit and Rene, who brought it all to life on the front cover.
This is the best group of folks - ever!
CHAPTER ONE
“The lad’s got talent, eh?” The elderly villager remarked to his equally elderly neighbor.
“Ah-yup.” The neighbor agreed, nodding so that his whole body rocked.
The “lad” hid her smile at the overheard comment. Though used to being mistaken for a boy, Alex still felt a thrill every time the disguise proved itself true. Two seasons past, she and Gwennie had resorted to begging in the streets; no one had wanted to see a “girl” perform magic.
But this young audience was enthralled.
A snow-white rabbit hopped between the rows of seated children. It was soon chased by a black kitten that appeared in an empty crate. The children squealed in delight and inched closer and closer to the magic – and the magician - in front of them.
With a flourish, Alex pulled the bright yellow handkerchief away from her left hand, revealing a beautiful bouquet of … dry twigs.
Alex blinked at the “bouquet” in her hand and swallowed. A shiver of ice ran down her spine and her fingers tingled.
Green buds of new leaves sprouted from the twigs, spreading out, growing.
Alex licked dry lips and stared at the leaves; she could not look at the audience. The children made no noise, the elderly grandparents whispered, their hushed words incoherent.
The green leaves turned gold, red, brown; they wilted and fell to the ground.
The shiver receded; warmth flowed through Alex’s veins once more and she took a deep breath, filling her lungs with air.
She peeked at the crowd.
It cheered, the clapping loud and chaotic.
Bowing deeply, so that her short dark curls fell forward to cover dark gray eyes wet with tears, she ended the show to the satisfying clink of coins in the basket.
Alex tried to smile at Gwennie, but could not make her stiff lips curve upward.
Gwennie winked back and then giggled like a young girl when an elderly man whispered something to her.
“Thank ye. Thank ye so much.” Gwennie curtseyed and held out the basket to reaching hands. “Ooh, thank ye. Yer most generous, ye are.”
Alex turned her back to the crowd and packed her props away, tucking them into the large chest strapped to the underside of the small wagon that served as home and stage.
A rainbow of only slightly faded colors beckoned the audience to the magic shows. Swirls of orange, red and blue decorated the sides of the wagon, and flapped overhead in the stripes of the canopy and banners.
Gwennie had set up their camp just outside the village, the smattering of cottages and pens ringing the wall and inner keep of Baron Humphrey’s stronghold. The keep, its single stone tower rising high above the wooden wall, was a forbidding sight. But the village, with its squat stone and thatch cottages and winding streets, was welcoming. The gates of the wall were flung open, and folks from near and far entered and exited unencumbered.
Alex blinked away tears.
Her last trick was supposed to be a bouquet of flowers that turned into a shower of petals over the children, not an unexplained bunch of dry twigs growing leaves that turned color and died.
Alex sighed and locked the prop trunk.
Mistakes – whatever – however – they happened – happened a lot lately.
She walked to the gray mule that pulled their wagon.
“’Tis a beautiful day, Murray. I’ll pick you some sweet clover and bring fresh carrots from the market. We’ll feast tonight, that I promise.” Alex patted Murray’s head. He gently nuzzled her cheek in response, blowing soft, warm air down her neck.
Alex buried her face in the mule’s warm neck and let the tears fall. She could not cry, not in public anyway, not with Gwennie still taking in coins and talking up the show.
She could not afford the good folks finding out that last trick was not planned. That it was not a trick at all, but something else, something over which Alex had no control.
Alex wiped her eyes and nose into Murray’s neck, and then on her sleeve. She put a smile on her face and forced a laughed. She skipped toward Gwennie, who was still collecting coins, smiling and nodding at those still tossing money into the basket.
“We done good today. Ooh-ay! But we done good. Twenty-five pieces at last count, and they’s still comin’ in.” Gwennie grinned. Her remaining teeth were yellowed, a couple of wide gaps showed where some had been knocked out. Alex couldn’t remember ever seeing Gwennie with all of them. Wrinkles creased her furrowed cheeks at the corners of her mouth. “’Course, it’ll be less once we pay the taxes due on it, but we’d be payin’ taxes no matter’n what we brung in.”
Alex no longer asked Gwennie how old she was; the answer was always the same. Gwennie claimed to have long ago lost track of her age, but she could remember when Old King Solomon ruled. This was before his son, King Matthieu, had been given the throne, and it had been his grandson, King Edric, who had disappeared ten years hence. The missing king had left his younger brother, Rolando, to rule, taxing the people nearly out of cottage and farm.
Alex gave her a one-armed hug, her arm easily fitting over Gwennie’s stooped shoulders without bending or stretching. Alex planted a kiss on the old woman’s graying temple, gently patting the tightly woven bun on the back of her head.
“I think I did well today,” Alex said.
“Ah-yup, ye did. Ye did everything ye planned, no surprises like yesterday.” Gwennie wagged a finger at Alex.
Alex flushed. It seemed that even Gwennie did not realize that the twigs and leaves had not been planned.
Alex changed the subject. “I’m off to the market. I think we’ll celebrate our good fortune tonight.”
Gwennie giggled again. “Just ye remember: I love them sugared dates sold by that dark-skinned man in the end stall.”
“I’ll remember.” Alex left with a quick wave to Gwennie and a slight bow to her lingering patrons. She grabbed a deep basket from just inside the wagon door and ran off toward the village.
The guards at the gate smiled and tipped their heads at Alex. Though they wore swords, the swords stayed in their scabbards, hung from wide leather belts. The two men talked and laughed and joked.
Alex smiled in return, bowed, and entered the village proper. A few goats and chickens wandered the wide main street and dodged the carts and wagons that rumbled past. Men and women stayed to the sides to avoid the ruts and dung that marked the middle of the track.
The festival vendors were set up in the courtyard – the wide area outside the main doors to the keep. A jousting ring sat outside the wall and matches were held each day of the festival. Alex enjoyed watching the competitions. She couldn’t wait to watch the final matches the following day.
The market was a throng of haggling vendors that plied their wares. Pigs squealed and children laughed. The sounds blended with the clang of the blacksmith, the slap of the men curing leather, and the crack of the whip in the animal pens.
Alex loved the market. Spices from faraway lands mingled with the smell of fresh, hearth-baked bread. Exotic fruits decorated the stalls, their brilliant colors as stimulating and imaginative as their fragrances. Many-colored fabrics, some so thin you could see through them, others dense to keep out the weather, were displayed everywhere. Silver, gold and copper glinted in the sun, nestled between rubies, emeralds and sapphires that seemed to glow from within in the sunlight.
Yes, at the market, silver jewelry, leather goods and the softest of silks were sold next to chickens and geese, pickled eggs and savory meat pies.
Alex weaved through the crowd.
“Hello, handsome.” A young girl, her face painted and her pale skin displayed in the deep vee of her dress, batted her heavily lashed eyes at Alex and ogled the heavy bag of coins that hung from her belt.
Alex cleared her throat and spoke low. “Hello.” She bowed and kept moving.
“I can give you a discount.”
Alex turned back.
The girl batted her lashes again and swayed her hips back and forth.
“Sorry, not interested.” Head down, Alex pushed her way through the crowd, one hand holding secure to her gold.
Alex knew that it was only Gwennie and a talent for magical entertainment that had kept her from a similar fate. Alex looked around at the young maidens hanging on the arms of young men; the young men purchasing trinkets and sweet meats for the young women, who laughed softly and batted their eyelashes playfully. A small part of Alex, deeply hidden so that even Gwennie did not know about it, wanted to wear a skirt and bat her eyes at a young man.
“Ahem!”
The icy voice came from a woman in a tall hat and thickly ruffled vest. She carried a tiny dragon on her arm, a lead in her other hand attached to the gem-studded collar on its neck.
“Pardon me, ma’am.” Alex bowed deeply and swept her hat from her head to touch the ground at the lady’s feet. “I must pay better attention to where I wander.”
“Vagrants.” The woman swept past Alex, and the little dragon sneered. It panted, perched on the lady’s arm, showing crooked, pointed teeth. “I must speak to Baron Humphrey about getting rid of them. They taint the very air with their odor.”
Alex glared after the woman and her rat-sized basket dragon, and crushed her now-dusty cap back on her head. It was time to concentrate on buying the wares she sought. She could not wait to get away from the market.
She bought the promised clover and carrots for Murray, and then the sugared dates for Gwennie. The foreign proprietor waggled his brows at the treat for Alex’s “sweetheart.” Alex had to bow her farewell several times before making her escape.
She also bought boiled quail eggs, and lamb and potato pies; a loaf of fresh dark brown bread, dotted with rich cheese and herbs; and a small pot of fresh, sweet butter. The scents mingled and mixed, making her mouth water. She wanted to get back to the wagon and eat.
Alex heard shouting just ahead. The large crowd’s jeering and cheering announced that someone was protesting. She wound her way through the throng of people, ducking a few flying fists. She stopped near the front, close enough to hear without suffering permanent damage to her person.
A middle-aged man, dressed well enough that Alex decided he was either a successful merchant or a member of the Baron’s staff, stood on a small, raised platform. “We must take a stance against these additional taxes!”
The crowd cheered.
“Baron Humphrey needs our support when he confronts King Rolando!” The crowd cheered again.
“We must fight the tyranny of this present regime and bring equality back to our kingdom!”
The crowd roared its approval, arms waving and fists pounding the air.
“We must find out what happened to King Edric and Queen Alina.” There was yet more roaring from the crowd; some even stomped their feet.
“We must prove that King Rolando is a usurper to the throne!”
The crowd began to push forward, and Alex decided that it was time to leave. Holding her basket close, Alex made her way back through the crowd, once again ducking fists and dodging bodies.
Looking back, the crowd completely surrounded the speaker and animated conversations were taking place on the fringe – Alex could see the moving mouths and the nodding heads, hear the occasional shout and slap on the back.
So, Alex thought, Baron Humphrey was set against King Rolando. Alex thought briefly that perhaps she and Gwennie should stay here, but dismissed it as quickly as the thought popped into her head.
Her lips pursed, Alex hurried through the market, looking for the vendors she needed. She no longer wanted to linger in the crowds.
This festival had a good number of merchants and visitors, probably due to Baron Humphrey’s generous relaxing of King Rolando’s tax burden. Alex smirked; she and Gwennie would be keeping a bit more of their take today than if they had collected it elsewhere.
CHAPTER TWO
The sun was beginning to lower in the sky; it was time to head back. Alex balanced her packages inside her basket, sneaking a corner of bread. Her stomach rumbled at the bit of food; it wanted more.
She paused at a small stall set up outside the wall that displayed kegs of ale and colored bottles of wine. She almost dropped her basket when she was jostled from behind. Rounding to admonish whatever clumsy fool had not been watching where he was going, she found instead a bright green face with turquoise blue eyes staring at her, a green carrot frond dangling from the long, tooth-lined snout. Yellow tufts of feathers stuck out from behind large, folded back ears, and thin yellow feathers drooped from small wings sticking out from behind its shoulders.
“Oh, it’s just a dragon. Go away.” She waved her arm in the direction behind the diminutive green creature. Its head barely reached her shoulder, hanging low from gaunt, boney withers. Alex could count its ribs, and a faint crisscross of scars marred the thin scales of its haunches.
Instead of returning from where it had come, it nudged her arm and rubbed its head against the palm of her hand.
Alex stared at her small, unwanted companion. She gave it a quick pet behind its feathers.
“I don’t like dragons. Go away.” Alex raised her voice slightly and turned to walk away.
But a tall, portly man blocked her path. He wore a faded red tunic with dirty brown pants held up by a worn leather belt. The smell coming from him suggested to Alex that it had been some time since he had bathed.
Alex tried not to breathe and moved to the left to pass.
He blocked her again. “That will be seventy-five gold pieces for the dragon.” He nodded at the creature behind her.
Alex looked up and almost passed out; the man’s breath was worse than his clothes. It smelled of garlic, onions and old meat. The few teeth remaining in his head were rotted black.
“What? I don’t want a dragon.”
“Then you shouldn’t have fed that one.” The man pointed to the small green dragon that tried to hide behind a cask of ale, still munching on the pilfered carrot.
“I didn’t feed him. He stole that carrot.”
The man said nothing, just nodded to a small sign posted near a pen housing several more grandly colored dragons.
HUNGRY DRAGONS.
YOU FEED, YOU BUY.
75GP.
“But…” Alex started to explain. The man interrupted.
“Seventy-five gold pieces or I call the magistrate.” He held out his hand, his eyes glancing over her trim figure, still dressed in the flashy red and blue costume of her magic act. “If you don’t have the money, we can make other arrangements for payment.” He bent down close to Alex, his foul breath once again invading her nostrils. She could see grease and flakes in his hair.
Alex didn’t want the magistrate to come; the law did not like gypsies, no matter the situation. She narrowed her eyes and decided to bluff.
“Go ahead, call the magistrate. Let’s see what he’ll say to you for letting this little guy wander around outside his pen. Maybe he’ll revoke your permit to sell dragons. Make you auction them off cheap.” Alex let her gaze fall on a pretty black and silver dragon, obviously worth a lot more than seventy-five gold pieces. “I bet he’d even have to go cheap if you were forced to sell out.”
The man swallowed hard, the gulping sound audible. He squinted. “I’ll take sixty gold pieces.”
Alex looked up and sneered. “I could call the magistrate myself, you know.”
“I’ll take fifty. That’s a steal for a nice, healthy specimen like that.” He pointed once more to the dragon, now sitting in the open; head ducked and tail tucked.
Alex looked back at the cowering dragon – healthy? It looked like a stiff breeze would blow it over and sweep it away.
Alex bit her lip. She did not want a dragon, certainly did not need one, and had no idea how to care for one. But this little fellow looked like he needed a good home.
It could be no worse off living with her and Gwennie.
Alex closed her eyes, sighed, and wished the magistrate would show up and stop the dragon seller. A shiver ran up her spine. She opened her eyes, glanced behind the foul man, and gasped in surprise.
“Look, there’s the magistrate now!” Alex waved her arm high and jumped up. She shivered again; cold fingers walked up her spine and trailed along her arms to her fingers.
The man glanced over his shoulder. A tall, dark-caped form moved towards them through the crowd. The man turned back to Alex.
“Twenty-five gold pieces. I can’t go any lower.” He spoke quickly now, his voice raspy and his words slurred. He blocked her view of the approaching figure.
Alex pursed her lips and tapped the fingers of her right hand against her cheek. “Okay.” She opened her purse and pulled out the necessary coins. She pushed the cold away from her spine and held out the coins.
The man grabbed them, ran back to his pen of dragons, and looked around for the lawman, but no trace of the black-caped figure could be seen.
Alex nodded. She looked behind her at the little dragon. “Looks like I am now the proud owner of a small, green dragon.” She handed him another carrot and took a closer look. “With a … purple tail.” For indeed, the faintest tip of his thin green tail was purple, with tiny yellow feathers covered in dust. “Just what am I to do with you?”
“Nice negotiating, boy.”
Alex jumped.
The voice was low and rumbled deep from a man’s chest. “Though, he’s been trying to get rid of that dragon for a good long time now. He’s bamboozled several folks into buying one of his dragons by letting them roam around and snatch food.”
The wine merchant leaned against his counter, surveying Alex and the dragon. “Seems no one is keen to have the magistrate come to call.”
Alex shook her head and took a steadying breath.
The wine-seller glanced once toward the crowd. “Funny, the magistrate doesn’t normally come round this way during the afternoon.”
Alex shrugged. The cold had receded and she started to feel warm again. “I’m pretty sure I saw him. Anyway, he must have changed his mind as he’s disappeared now.”
The merchant squinted a moment and stared hard at Alex. She held her ground and returned the stare, her chin pointed up. Then the old man shrugged and waved a hand in the air. “What can I do for you today?” He rubbed his nearly bald head with a wine-stained hand.
“I need a bottle of wine – cherry blossom if you have any, please.”
The man raised his eyebrows at her manners, but said nothing. He walked to the rear of his stall and returned with a stout brown bottle, the cork sealed with red wax. He handed the bottle to Alex, bottom first, cradling it like a precious treasure.
Alex turned it over, looked through the bottom for sediment. She tapped the seal; it sounded nice and tight. “Looks good to me, how much?”
The man picked up a cloth from a nearby bucket, rung it out, and began washing the counter in long, slow strokes. “Well now, let’s see... that’s a mighty fine vintage. Usually ask ten silver pieces for a bottle.” The man dipped the rag back in the bucket and rung it out once more before continuing. He talked slow, more to himself rather than to Alex. “You’re that magician, what? Heard you’re pretty good.”
Alex leaned one hip against the stall and set the basket handle over her right forearm. “Yes.” Alex, too, spoke slow. She understood how the market worked. It was time to haggle.
The man scrubbed at a spot. When he stopped, he looked directly at Alex, stared her right in the eyes. “I don’t much like that dragon-seller fellow. I’ll give it to you for five pieces of silver.” He slapped the table with his free hand, the sound a loud smack that made Alex jump away from her resting place.
“Sold.” Alex withdrew five coins and slapped them on the counter next to the man’s empty hand. She knew a deal when she saw it. Cherry blossom wine was Gwennie’s favorite, and never had she been able to purchase a good bottle for less than seven pieces of silver.
The hand covered the coins and pulled them toward the inside edge of the counter, before it picked them up, one by one. The wine-seller tested one with his teeth and then saluted her with the coin to his forehead.
“Have a nice evening, young man.”
Alex gave a slight bow. “Thank you, sir. I shall certainly try to do so.”
She picked up the bottle of wine and waved for the dragon to follow her. It did, still munching its pilfered carrot.
CHAPTER THREE
Alex approached the small, gaily painted wagon. She dragged her feet, scuffing her shiny boots in the dust of the track.
The small green and yellow dragon followed her.
She saw the red striped curtains move. That meant Gwennie was inside – watching. That meant Gwennie already knew about the dragon.
Alex sighed. How was she supposed to explain the dragon to Gwennie? She had spent far more than she should have today. They needed that money to assure a comfortable winter. She had spent lavishly on their supper tonight as a celebration, then even more on a dragon they did not need and could not afford. Alex felt like they had nothing much to celebrate after all.
Rival barons were feuding and fighting, each trying to take charge, making travel difficult through the territories, so they had been unable to attend two of the festivals in the North. King Rolando’s soldiers made travel even more difficult, often crashing a festival and putting an end to any commerce for that fiefdom. They had made very little money this season so far. Instead of attending the usually prosperous northern festivals, located closer to the ruling castle and thus usually better attended, they had set up near a small fair farther south. King Rolando’s soldiers had put an end to the fair and confronted the participants. The resulting mob had accidentally damaged the wagon, ultimately costing them money instead of earning them any.
Alex liked performing her magic show, even though sometimes she felt a pull for something…more. She could not put a name to the pull, and never mentioned it to Gwennie. It felt like something deep inside her was trying to well up and spill out of her pores. Sometimes she felt like something was calling to her. Other times, it was more like a memory was trying to surface, to remind her of something she ought to be doing.
When Alex was younger, she had tried to explain it to Gwennie but it had only upset the older woman, making her keep Alex even closer to her and watch her more carefully. She didn’t want Gwennie worrying that she might take off and leave her alone, so Alex no longer mentioned the feelings when they surfaced.
After all, Gwennie had taken such good care of Alex, loved Alex like a daughter or perhaps a granddaughter, and Alex loved her back just as much. Alex refused to do anything that would hurt her or upset her.
And now, Gwennie waited, thinking that the winter was well taken care of with no idea just what new problem Alex was bringing home.
Alex wanted to curl into a little ball and burrow into the ground.
Gwennie poked her shriveled face out the back door, her gray hair loose and trailing down her back. Alex could see the question in her hazel eyes and the wrinkled frown that framed them.
Murray brayed his greeting and stomped the dusty ground. He had worn a large circle in the green field, his tether in the very center. It was surrounded by knee-high grass, thick, lush and sweet smelling.
Alex set the food aside, fed him some of the carrots and clover, and then fed the rest to the dragon. Murray nuzzled his thanks, his velvet nose warm in Alex’s palm. The short snort of thanks from the dragon was a surprise. She gave him a quick pat on the top of his head, in front of his feathers. The dragon closed his eyes and made what might have been a purring noise.
Alex turned back to Murray and stroked his neck and shoulders with long, solid strokes. She then stooped to pick up the still-warm basket of food.
Her worries multiplied. They now had another mouth to feed. How much did a dragon eat anyway? And what, besides carrots and clover, did he eat? Did he eat meat, or was this particular species vegetarian? Was there anything else that a dragon needed?
Alex sighed. Maybe Gwennie would know.
Alex walked to the wagon. Gwennie stood silent on the step, drying her hands in the large white apron draped around her waist. Gwennie looked past Alex, at the dragon, one brow raised.
Alex shrugged and held out the bottle of wine.
Gwennie accepted the bottle, but remained silent. She looked over the bottle and shook it a little to test the cork. When it stayed, she smiled, licking her lips.
“Let’s eat.” Gwennie nodded toward the table. She wiped the bottle on her apron and led the way, stroking the bottle gently from cork to bottom.
Gwennie had set up the small table under the canopy. A large, blue and white checked cloth covered the table with a multicolored candle in an empty wine jug set in the center. Melted candle wax dripped down the outside of the jug, the rainbow of colors Gwennie had used to make the candle on display. She had gathered scraps of old, used candles until she had enough wax to make about half a dozen in the pretty colors.
Twin stools, each with a small, curved back, sat on each side, ornately embroidered pillows providing comfort for weary bones. The pillows had been made from old burlap sacks and bits of abandoned yarn Gwennie had gathered in their travels. The odd materials had been transformed into the beautiful cushions during the cold boredom of a winter spent next to the fire.
Gwennie continued her silence, and poured the wine into two heavy, mismatched glass goblets. She struck a match and lit the candle. The flame flickered in the slight, warm breeze.
Gwennie sat down, her multiple skirts puffing slightly. She lifted her goblet with a wizened, arthritic hand, and took a tentative sip.
“Mmmm. Good wine, Alex. What else ye got in that there basket?”
Alex took the hint: Gwennie wanted to eat first and ask questions after. She placed the lamb pies on the plates first, then the quail eggs. She broke the bread; the cheese- and herb-laced steam made her mouth water. Next, she set the pot of butter beside the pot of blackberry jam Gwennie had made last winter.
Last, she gave Gwennie the packet of sugared dates. They were wrapped in pale blue paper and tied with a soft ribbon.
“The proprietor thought I was buying these for my sweetheart.”
Gwennie cackled and slapped the table with one hand. “Imagine his face if he caught a look-see at me, eh?”
Alex laughed, too, and wiped tears from the corners of her eyes with the edge of the table cover. Gwennie just used the back of her hand and then wiped her hand on her apron.
They ate the pies, sopping up the extra juice with the bread. They played each other’s egg and laughed when Gwennie cracked the shell of Alex’s first. “What do I get fer winning?”
Alex considered. “I’ll feed Murray for a whole week?”
Gwennie batted at Alex, who dodged the gentle swat. “It’s already your chore to feed Murray, ye minx. Ye can wash the dishes fer a week instead.”
Alex agreed and held her hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, I’ll do the dishes.”
“So, what news from the market?” Gwennie looked at Alex over the rim of her goblet.
“Someone was protesting the King’s taxes. There was a whole crowd of folks cheering and clapping.”
“That can be dangerous.”
Alex shrugged. “The taxes aren’t fair. Why shouldn’t folks be able to say so?”
“Oh, I’m not sayin’ they shouldna be able, just that tis a danger to do so.”
“Oh.” Alex stared at the tall stone keep. “I was thinking maybe we should stay here for a while.”
“Nae. Nae. We canna stay here.” Gwennie set her goblet hard on the table and leaned forward.
“Why not?” Alex leaned forward herself, staring at Gwennie.
Gwennie glanced away and pulled at her hair. “Past indiscretions.”
“You always say that.” Alex crossed her arms and sat back, pouting and glaring.
“’cause that’s the reason.”
Alex didn’t wonder – much – about these indiscretions in Gwennie’s past, except to wonder if maybe she was one of them. But, Gwennie said she had found Alex, and Alex believed her. The old woman was all she had. Doubting her was foolhardy.