Lawrence Watt-Evans - The Sorcerer's Widow

It was indeed good for another three bits. Twenty minutes later Bern stood in front of the inn, waving with one hand while the other clutched his pay, as Dorna and Irien drove their respective wagons out of the stableyard onto the road and turned them to the southeast, toward Ethshar of the Sands.

Kel was riding with Dorna on the lead wagon, and when they had gone perhaps half a mile she handed him the reins and said, “Here. Keep us on the road.”

Kel took the lines and watched as Dorna fished out the boot-heel talisman. “There’s a concentration of gaja ahead of us, in that direction,” she said, pointing ahead and slightly to the right. “It’s moving, so it’s probably him.”

Kel looked in the indicated direction. “There’s a fence,” he said. That side of the road was indeed lined with a rail fence for as far as he could see.

“I know. We’ll stick to the road for now.”

Driving the oxen did not take a great deal of concentration, so Kel had time to think as they rode on.

He thought Dorna was almost certainly going to catch up to Ezak eventually, and reclaim her stolen talismans. She had said she wouldn’t kill Ezak, so after she had her bag back she would probably let them go-or maybe she would have Ezak flogged first, and then let them go. Kel winced at the idea of Ezak being flogged; having been through it himself, he knew how staggeringly painful and humiliating it was. He might have to spend a sixnight or so nursing Ezak back to health; he certainly couldn’t afford to pay for healing magic, and he doubted anyone else was going to provide it.

But Dorna might be satisfied with just getting her things back. That would be nice. Then he and Ezak would go back to their old life, as it had been before Ezak’s uncle told them about the dead sorcerer with a houseful of magic-stealing coins in taverns, running errands for a bit or two, and so on.

Kel looked around at the green fields stretching off in all directions, a flock of birds soaring in the blue sky ahead, a farmer with a tool of some kind poking at the ground off to the left, and for an instant he wondered if he really had to go back to living in alleys or attics, spending his nights grabbing for dropped coins in crowded taverns stinking of sweat and spilled beer.

But how could he possibly do anything else?

They were nearing the great stone towers of Grandgate, the main entrance to Ethshar of the Sands, and Dorna was frowning as she tapped at her talisman. “It’s somewhere over that way,” she said, pointing to the left. “I can’t tell whether it’s in the city or not.”

“Smallgate is in that direction,” Kel said.

She glanced at him. “Smallgate,” she said thoughtfully. “Is there an actual gate in Smallgate? A way into the city?”

“Of course,” said Kel, startled. “Why else would they call it that?”

“Maybe because there used to be one, a couple of hundred years ago,” Dorna answered. “Names don’t always change when they should.”

Kel could not argue with that. “There’s a gate,” he said. “It isn’t always open, though.”

“I didn’t know Ethshar of the Sands had more than one gate,” Dorna said. “Everyone uses Grandgate. Or arrives by sea.”

“The highway only goes to Grandgate,” Kel said.

Dorna considered this, looked at the towers ahead, and then at the talisman in her hand. “So how many gates are there?” she asked.

“Four.”

“Grandgate, Smallgate-what are the others, Mediumgate and Tinygate?”

“Beachgate and Northgate,” Kel said. He pointed to the west. “They’re over that way.”

Dorna looked in that direction, then shook her head. “We need to go south,” she said. “I guess we’re bound for Smallgate.” She chirruped to the oxen and tugged on the reins, urging them off the highway onto one of the ill-defined lanes that led through the maze of huts and market stalls that lined the approaches to Grandgate.

Kel looked around worriedly. In particular, he looked back at the wagon, and at Irien’s wagon behind Dorna’s. He saw the locals watching as the wagons passed by, and saw that some of them were inching nearer. He turned and glanced ahead, and saw groups of children muttering among themselves.

“Stop,” he said. “Stop right now.”

“What?” Dorna had already been dividing her attention between the reins and her tracking talisman, and this new distraction seemed to be confusing her.

“Stop!” Kel shouted. “Stop here, and get your weapon out!” He drew his own belt-knife, wishing he had a club or a sword, or anything with more reach.

Dorna yanked on the reins, then turned and demanded, “What’s wrong?”

“Get out your weapon now ,” Kel ordered, as he got to his feet. He saw Irien stop her own wagon, her oxen’s noses only a foot or so from the back of Dorna’s wagon, and he saw half a dozen men and women closing in behind.

“Get away!” Kel shouted. He pointed at Dorna. “She’s a sorcerer, and if you touch either of these wagons, or anything in them, she’ll blow your head off!”

Finally grasping the situation, Dorna stood as well, brandishing the black weapon that had destroyed the Northern sentry talisman. She did not speak.

“Blast anyone who gets too close,” Kel said, as he sat down and grabbed the reins. He called over his shoulder, “Irien! Stay close!” Then he shook the reins and urged the oxen forward. Dorna swayed as the wagon started moving, but stayed upright and vigilant.

“It’s almost two miles to Smallgate,” Kel said. “We could double back to the highway.”

“Is it like this the entire way?” Dorna asked, not looking down at him.

“I don’t know,” Kel said. “I never came outside the walls. When Ezak and I left we went out through Grandgate, and anyway, we didn’t have anything worth stealing.”

“Turn back,” she said.

Kel nodded, and tugged at the reins, turning the oxen to the right, into the gap between a ragged blue tent and a rough wooden stall displaying old tools for sale. People who had been watching the whole thing reluctantly made way.

“ Hai !” Dorna called, pointing her weapon at something behind them. Kel did not look, but urged the oxen forward, trying to coax more speed from the lumbering beasts.

A moment later they were back on the highway, and bound for Grandgate. The people who had been crowding close to the wagons had vanished, and after a final wary glance Dorna sat down-though Kel noticed she kept the weapon ready in her hand. Sweat gleamed on her brow, and while the weather was warm, Kel doubted it was entirely due to the heat.

“What was that about?” she asked.

“The city guard doesn’t go there,” Kel said. “They keep the highway clear, and everything inside the walls is under their protection, but that’s all.”

“So-what would have happened? Who are those people?”

Kel turned up an empty palm. “They’re just people. Some of them don’t have anywhere else to stay, so they live here. Some live in the city, or other places, but they come here to sell things. Sometimes it’s things the guards wouldn’t let them sell in the city markets. But they all steal things, if you give them a chance. They’ll come up to the back of a wagon and grab whatever they can, then run with it. Usually it isn’t anything valuable, so no one bothers to go after them.”

Dorna considered this for a moment, then said, “Threatening to kill them seems excessive.”

“They wouldn’t listen to less,” Kel said. “And if one of them got something from your wagon, and the others found out you have an entire wagon full of magic, they would have mobbed us and stolen everything.”