“Fie, you know I would not leave you here,” Grayling said. “Sit and rest those weary bones awhile, and I will join you, for if my feet could talk, they would whine and complain and beg for a rest.” She dropped down beside the old woman.
Pansy’s belly rumbled a loud rumble. “My belly is empty all the way to the ground,” she said, “and these legs can go no more. There be an inn up this road. I saw it when we passed in the wagon of the warlord. Can we not spend some of Sylvanus’s coins on bread and mayhap a bed?”
Grayling shook her head. “Nay, we may yet need them.”
Pansy crossed her arms. “You sound like my mother. I have no need of another mother. I need supper.”
Dark clouds moved over them and rain began, whispering through the trees and pocking the ground. Water dripping from her hair, her nose, her fingertips, Grayling turned to Auld Nancy. “Auld Nancy, we are discomfited enough. Will you not stop the rain?”
Auld Nancy shook her head as she lifted her bedraggled broom. “We no longer have the power, my broom and I.”
Showers turned to downpour. Auld Nancy sneezed, and Grayling said, “Oh, drips and drizzles, it’s the inn for us.”
The three were soggy and chilled when they reached the inn on the outskirts of the town. Inside, it smelled like wet clothes, stale ale, and—Grayling sniffed—mutton stew, fragrant with garlic and pepper.
Auld Nancy dropped onto a bench at a table near the fire, while Grayling bargained with the innkeeper, a large young man with missing teeth in his broad smile. Returning to the others, Grayling said, “I have secured us bread, beer, and stew. There are no beds to be had, but we are welcome to sleep here by the fire.”
Auld Nancy brightened a little. But where was Pansy? In the dim light of the inn, Grayling saw the girl speaking with two men near the door. “Pansy,” Grayling called, “you complained of hunger, and I can hear your belly rumbling from here. Come and have supper.”
Grayling found that her weariness made even a wooden bench comfortable enough for sleeping. Rain pelted the roof and the wind wailed as she closed her eyes, and it was near dawn when she woke. The innkeeper was feeding great logs to the fire, and he winked at Grayling. “I shall warm some ale for ye, for ’tis a nasty morning indeed out there.”
Grayling nodded her thanks and left the inn to relieve herself. Her hair tangled and her cloak whipped about her as she trudged from the inn and back, cursing the wind. But this wind did not blight her spirits or extinguish her will. Certes, then, it was mere wind. Wasn’t it?
Pansy and Auld Nancy were stirring when she returned. “The rain has stopped,” she told them, “although the wind is fierce. We shall not have easy walking today.”
“No matter,” said Pansy, looking pleased with herself. “I sent word last night to the man with the metal nose, Lord Mandrake he is called, that the witches he sought before are here.”
Grayling lurched forward and grabbed Pansy’s arm. “What? Pansy, what have you done?”
Pansy shook off Grayling’s hold. “I want to do magic, and if Sylvanus will not teach me, I will go to Lord Mandrake.”
Grayling shook her head. “Pansy, he will cage you as he did before.”
“I will gladly trade my freedom for power. With practice, my magic will grow stronger, and folks will cease their poor Pansys and foolish Pansys and be in awe of me!”
“He cannot be trusted.”
“Nor can I. We will make a fine pair.”
“But you have ensnarled us! Think on it. I have no magic, and Auld Nancy has exhausted hers. What will happen when your Lord Mandrake finds that out?”
Pansy shrugged. “You will think of something. Sylvanus says you have courage and keen wits.” Her voice was sharp edged, and her eyes hard.
Grayling had endured Pansy long enough. Let her go where she willed, as long as it was far from Grayling. “We must be away without delay, Auld Nancy.” Grayling helped her to her feet. “Before the warlord comes.”
In a voice ragged and weary, Auld Nancy said, “Pansy, you have learned nothing from this misadventure, but are even more foolish and wicked. Do what you will.” She took Grayling’s arm, and they moved toward the door.
“Go, then,” said Pansy. “I will be a powerful magician, rich beyond your dreams, and you will come to wish you had stayed. And been kinder to me!”
Grayling and Auld Nancy pushed the door open and stumbled out. The day was cold and sunless, and the air smelled of snow. The wind wolf-howled, and the tall firs swayed like grasses. Broken branches littered the road so that Grayling and Auld Nancy had to leap and skitter to stay afoot. Fir cones and fiddlesticks, ’tis past time to be home, Grayling thought as she pushed Auld Nancy faster and faster until darkness fell once more.
XVI