Mistress Telltrue

"Be at peace, friends!" exclaimed Mistress Pineshade. "Marsudel herself is only barely starting to understand what sort of gift the universe has manifested in her. Give her time; give it time."

"I can't make it come," the child told them all. "I just knew that Mister Wheelaxle would die if he went straight to the store. I don't know how many more things will come in my head. I want to go home."

Bearing in mind that Marsudel's mother was the Lady Mayor, and could complain directly to the Eastern Warden if her family suffered insult, the neighbors retreated for the present. But they did not cease from talking vigorously among themselves, and they had not dispersed out of earshot before one man could be heard saying something like, "Human knowledge belongs to the world!"

Yonazere, who had not said much during all these goings-on, took her first opportunity to approach Marsudel timidly. Reaching for her friend's hand, the younger girl asked in a faint voice, "Now that everyone says you're magic, are you going to quit playing with me?"

Marsudel replied by throwing her arms around Yonazere and kissing her. "No, I won't quit playing with you! And my dolls won't quit either, because all of us love you!"

Yonazere brightened up after this, but hovered near Marsudel as much as she could for the rest of the day, as if to make sure that Marsudel and her dolls would not change their minds.

Mister Wheelaxle decided on a way that he could simultaneously forgive Mister Brickledge, and promote public safety: before departing, he bought all of the matchlock muskets the Brickledge Mercantile had in stock, with their ammunition. Mister Wheelaxle figured on reselling most of this ordnance, but on being more careful with it while it was in his possession.

By sunset, the chatter about Marsudel was dying down.... until she herself caused it to resume. Suddenly charging outdoors and running over to the Rushing Creek Road, she saw a farmer passing by, mounted on a donkey. "Mister!" she cried out. "Your wife is going to have a baby boy for you next year. That's a for-sure thing!"



END OF CHAPTER FOUR
 
Chapter Five: Busy Days For Marsudel


At her soonest opportunity, Mistress Pineshade made the suggested change in seasoning for stew. People did like it better.

On the morning after Marsudel saved Mister Wheelaxle's life, Madame Coldspring found a crowd of curiosity seekers, most of them familiar local residents, clustering around the front gate, awaiting any further startling news about a child who had always been well liked, but had never been considered at all supernatural. "There's nothing to gain from standing here," Ladza told them. "Neither I nor my daughter can tell if yesterday's events will be matched today, or tomorrow for that matter. If anything magical does happen, we'll make it known, for my Marsudel has nothing sinister to hide."

Two hours later, Grandpapa Jedloff Shorecastle arrived at the Haven on horseback, having heard the report of his granddaughter's new gift. He had scarcely begun to hear the explanation from Ladza and the girls (Bebsha's contribution being to tell how the advent of Marsudel's gift had led to the healing of quarrels), when Marsudel tensed up where she sat on his knee.

"Grandpapa, I have another Knowing!" That was what she had decided to call her unpredictable revelations. "Please, Grandpapa, will you take me up to the Green Flag Highway now?"

Jedloff glanced at his daughter, who shrugged. Ladza still did not know what to make of this mystery, but all of its effects had been beneficial so far. "Very well, treasure," Jedloff answered Marsudel. "It's a fine day for riding, and as we ride north, you can tell me more about what happened yesterday." Out to the stable they went, bringing the stuffed dog Bodeen with them.

To allow his own horse a rest, Jedloff borrowed a horse which his late son-in-law had often ridden in life. Perching Marsudel and Bodeen before him, he set out northwest along the Rushing Creek Road, toward where it intersected the Green Flag Highway, the more inland of Greatjourney's two lengthwise highways. This was the thoroughfare used by Klorvundish nobles when they travelled through the Duchy. The separate highways prevented any disputes over precedence between large parties moving in opposite directions. As they went, Marsudel told her grandfather everything she could think of to tell him about her Knowings. He listened attentively and silently.

Eventually: "Grandpapa, don't you say sometimes you think people forgot something?"

"It is a feeling long on my heart, little darling."

"The voice from the book-box talked like he knew you. He said you were close to the truth. Maybe now I can help you find out what everybody forgot."

"May the stars grant it, Marsudel. Or..... maybe something better than the stars. But look, we're almost to the Green Flag Highway. What are we supposed to do now?"

"All I know is, a man's coming this way soon; it came into my head what he looks like. He doesn't know his grandmama's going to die and live inside his heart. I hope we didn't miss him."

"I'd wager we're in time," said her grandfather. "Didn't the voice tell you that you would learn things that would do people some good? You knowing about this stranger's grandmother does him no good unless you get a chance to tell him. Does your Knowing say which way the man's coming from?"

"I didn't think about that," Marsudel admitted.

 
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Jedloff, Marsudel and Bodeen looked one way and then the other. As was true of the Gold Stallion Highway near the coastline, the Green Flag Highway's course along the island was mostly west to east, but here it took a jog almost due north and south, following the shape of the island. To the south-by-southwest, a distant approaching figure came into view, marching along with a rough-cut walking stick.

"There, Grandpapa! That's the man, I know it is!"

Jedloff walked his borrowed horse toward the traveler. When they came near enough, Jedloff realized that this was a man whom he had seen several times when doing business in the central region of the island. The traveler also showed recognition.

"Good day, sir, and peace of the universe to you. Are you not the former Colonel Jedloff Shorecastle, now a gentleman farmer?"

Smiling, Jedloff dismounted with Marsudel and shook the man's hand. "A farmer at least, if not a gentleman. Didn't we last meet at a cattle show beside Mud Floor Creek, two years ago?"

Marsudel tugged at the poniard sheath hanging from her grandfather's belt. "Grandpapa, the message!"

The traveler, sharing the general custom of current society, regarded adult conversation as overriding the chatter of children. "Yes, sir, I was rebuilding one of the cattle pens. I'm Daskren Bluescarf. I found cattle tiresome, so I'm bound for Dawnport to see if something more exciting turns up."

"You'll need to postpone that, Mister Bluescarf. Someone I know who has the second sight asked me to find you on the road."

"Oh, Hapsie Thrushbill? She still in business?"

"No, not Miss Thrushbill; she's alive, but rarely goes out anymore. It was someone younger. But what matters, as my granddaughter says, is the seer's message. I wish it were a cheerful one, but knowing is better than not knowing. First, tell me: are you able to ride a horse?"

"As far as a trot, at least, sir."

"Then I must lend you mine, in trade for your staff to help me walk back the way I came. What you need to know is that your grandmother is going to pass away very soon."

Daskren stared. "You're not playing a joke, are you? She seemed to be getting over her latest illness when I left her with my sister."

"I would not presume to lend out a horse belonging to my daughter if this were but a joke. What I have told you is what the seer told me. If you mount up and start back east without further argument, I'm confident that you will make it home in time to say your farewells."

Daskren argued no more. "Thank you, Mister Shorecastle, Somehow I believe you. Dawnport can wait." As soon as Jedloff had collected the waterskin and crossbow with quiver that hung on the horse, Daskren mounted. "Easy roads to you, noble sir! I'll return this animal as soon as I can!" --and he started back the way he had come, at a trot.

Arranging his granddaughter and his equipment so he could most efficiently carry them all, the sturdy old man started back down Rushing Creek Road. His active pace and good endurance made it likely that they would be home before nightfall. With Bodeen safely riding in a deep trouser pocket, and with Marsudel able to hang on for herself, Jedloff could proceed with Mister Bluescarf's walking stick in one hand and the loaded crossbow in the other. Just in case.

"Marsudel, do you understand why I told him the way I did?"

"Because he wouldn't believe it if a little girl told him?"

"Exactly, treasure. Little girl or little boy, odds were against him believing such a message out of nowhere on the say-so of a child. Whatever is at work in you, you'll have to expect some people not to listen to you because you're small. But if you keep on speaking the truth, sooner or later more and more people will start accepting your word. I just hope you don't make too many enemies."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 
Daskren Bluescarf did make it home in time to see and speak with his grandmother again. Erskud's horse was returned afterwards by means of a Yansifarian magician riding it eastward. The magician, visiting the Duchy to exchange ideas with Islander magicians, happened to have a potion of endurance that would enable him to walk the island's length easily in ONE direction; having a horse to ride on the outward leg would let him save his potion for the homeward leg.

When returning the horse at Coldspring Haven, the magician also delivered a fine quilt which had belonged to Mister Bluescarf's grandmother: a token of the family's appreciation to Marsudel. "For someday when she is herself the mistress of a household," said the traveling magician, speaking for Daskren and his sister.

As for Marsudel, it did not take long at all for a pattern to emerge with her Knowings, and it was as the voice had told her. Each day, she would get one revelation of an accomplished fact, which no one could prevent or negate; this did not, however, necessarily mean that no action was possible in response to the revealed fact. And, each day, Marsudel would learn something which positively called for a decision by someone. In all cases, the revelation would be such that someone would be better off, never worse off, by knowing it.

"If you buy that horse, it will throw you off one day and break your bones really bad."

"Miss Hammerspark just doesn't like you, and she'll never want to marry you no matter what you do. You need to forget about her."

"If the ship you want to travel on waits two more days to leave, it won't run into pirates."

"Your housekeeper didn't steal that necklace. It fell out of your trunk when your coach had that big crash on Flaxmarket Road, and it's still lying in a bush."

On through the month of Rainblossom, things always turned out so that Marsudel could get the attention of whatever person stood to benefit by a Knowing. None of the revelations following the one for Daskren Bluescarf were as vitally urgent as his case; but whenever proof of correctness was possible, Marsudel's Knowings were invariably proven to be true. This caused the little girl to take pains not to claim total certainty for any statement of hers which wasn't supernaturally inspired.
 
Schooling, however, continued as before. Yonazere, not liking to be left out, hovered around her brother and Marsudel as they received lessons. Although she did not learn very much, Ladza saw no harm in giving the littlest one at least some exposure to academic subjects.

"Why doesn't this voice just make you know how to read all the hard words, in both languages, all at once?" Wildrad asked Marsudel one evening, as they were assisting Gribladene to clear the tables in both dining rooms after the final seating for supper. As soon as this work was done and their hands were clean, they were going to start their latest lesson.

"I don't know," answered Marsudel. "I s'pose he knows my Mama's good enough to teach me reading."

"But your mother, may the stars be kind to her, couldn't tell you that Mister Brickledge was going to let a musket blow a hole through his door."

"I guess you have to find out diff'rent things diff'rent ways."

That evening, Ladza showed the children a map of the known world, asking them to read each placename. This was a map lettered in Klorvundish, since they had come farther along with that language.

"Mama, why did they write 'Everysummerland' so big?"

"That's Eversummerland, sweetykins. It's written big because the name stands for a very large area of land. There are several separate kingdoms down there, probably more than we know about up here to the north."

"Why don't we know them all, Mama?"

Wildrad ventured his own answer; he was not a sailor's son for nothing. "Look here, Marsudel;" and he gestured to the sea regions adjoining Greatjourney Island to the north and south. Do you understand what 'Sea of Spikes' means?"

"Papa told me it was water with bunches of pointy rocks poking up out of it."

"You're right. For a long way straight north and straight south of our island, the sea is pretty shallow; men have been able to dive to the bottom in many places, even without magic to let them stay under longer. Sharp rocks break the surface in lots of places; and what's worse, others come almost to the surface, where they can't be seen but they can tear open a ship like a knife carving a goose. Small fishing boats, moving slowly and carefully, are safe enough in the Sea of Spikes, if it's daytime and the weather's not bad; but it's no good for the big ships that carry things from one country to another. Besides, the land on our north and south coasts goes down to the sea very steeply, with only narrow inlets where boats can put out and pull in. Duskport and Dawnport are this island's only good harbors, opening onto our only clear sea passages: East toward Klorvund, and west toward Yansifar. So it isn't easy for Islanders to travel to Eversummerland. That's why we don't know much about the black people's kingdoms. One thing I do know is that many of the black people call all of our northern countries 'Winterland," since any wintertime is more wintertime than they ever have."

"Why can't our people just go like this?" Using both index fingers, Marsudel traced paths running outward from Duskport and Dawnport, then down the coasts of Yansifar and Klorvund, and onto open ocean, finally converging on Eversummerland.

"They can," said Marsudel's mother. "But the kings of Klorvund and Yansifar have to give permission for any ship to sail those ways. Things like Arpezna fighting against Klorvund have made them very careful about that. An Islander may work on ships of our neighbor kingdoms, and an Islander captain may receive permission to sail those coasts on his own. But not many ships belonging to any Islander -- even to our Duke -- ever voyage as far south as Eversummerland, though some visit the few small islands that can be found in the upper ocean, just beyond where the jagged rocks end. Our people find it easier to let Yansifarians and Klorvundishmen go and buy things from the black people, and then sell some of the things to us.

"Any kind of merchandise bought or sold by either of our two ruling kingdoms finds its way to our soil eventually. That's because the Fanged Sea gets in their way, too. The only easy way for Klorvund and Yansifar to sell things to each other is to make the short water trip to their end of our island, hire Islanders to move their goods the length of the island by road, and then sail from the other end to the other kingdom in a different ship."

 
"My Papa sailed on ships of both kingdons," volunteered Wildrad, who did not usually say much about his father to the Coldsprings. "He went to Eversummerland a couple of times, too, before I was born. Papa used to tell me that the black men were so tall, they could rig the sails on the tallest ship without having to climb the masts. But Mama said he was puffing up the story. When I get good at reading, I want to read every book I can find about the hot-weather countries."

This gave Ladza the opportunity to recapture the children's attention for the work of actually learning to read. They spent the next half hour productively.... until Gribladene joined them, to say, "Madame Coldspring? Hapsie Thrushbill's in the foyer, with a military escort, asking to see you. It's about Marsudel."

The bony-faced local sorceress was barely more than fifty years old, but she looked as if she had aged two years for every one year that had passed since the day she had taken the credit for Erskud and Ladza becoming betrothed without obstacles. Her manner, however, was as self-confident as ever. She had resolved at a very early age that the pursuit of magic held more interest for her (as well as more hope of success) than the pursuit of men's attention. She was physically more vigorous than she appeared to the eye; and she relished the irony that women far more attractive than she was would ask her for help in preserving their attractiveness. Ladza, however, had never asked for any such help; she was resigned to time taking away her looks as death had taken away her beloved.

"How this little red rose has grown, Ladza, from the baby I spoke luck-words for! And her face is a perfect female version of her father's." Miss Thrushbill patted both sides of Marsudel's face with her fingertips: a gesture unfamiliar to the girl, but Marsudel assumed it was meant kindly.

With Hapsie Thrushbill were two of Duke Tembicus' soldiers. One wore a Klorvundish-style uniform, with a straight-bladed sword of the Klorvundish type; this man followed the Klorvundish fashion in grooming so far as to have long hair but a clean-shaven lip and chin. The other soldier, clad in Yansifarian colors with a curved Yansifarian saber, had fairly short hair but a thick beard, matching the custom of the kingdom to the west. Their presence with Hapsie was not really official; the Duke's men always kept an eye on Coldspring Township, something Tembicus felt he owed to the Lady Mayor.

These two men, on their way to rejoin their garrison in Dawnport after some leave time, had seen Hapsie performing an unknown ritual along the shoulder of Rushing Creek Road, a short way north of where it intersected the Gold Stallion Highway. A reasonable curiosity had led them to question her, and she had been perfectly willing to let retainers of the Longmarch Duke witness her proceedings. They had accompanied her north from the starting point of her ceremony -- after she erased several cryptic symbols she had drawn in the dirt -- and upon reaching the more populated area between the two great highways, had watched as she moved around in the area of shops which had grown up near the Coldspring Haven. They had stayed close to her as she asked and received admittance to the inn.

"Moonlight has many secrets to share with those who possess the talent," the sorceress now declared. "These two gentlemen and I have trodden ujp and down the same line your leather-merchant friend was following, the day little Marsudel's developing magic saved his life. Places where powerful magic has been active retain an affinity for enchantment, you know."

"No, I don't know," Marsudel admitted. "What's a fanittafee?"

"Af-fin-ity," her mother corrected. "Miss Thrushbill means that a place holds the memory of magical events that happened in it."

"Is that like how I carry Papa around inside me?"

"Something like that," agreed Hapsie. "One of the blessings of the spirit of the universe. The whole reason why I came by this evening was to try to help my friends, the right honorable Coldsprings, answer the riddle of Marsudel's new power."

 
Wildrad, taking all this in from his position a respectful four paces behind Madame Coldspring, found himself thinking about the amulet seller whom he and his mother and sister had encountered, the day they arrived at the Haven. Her reason, the boy told himself, is to convince us that her fortune-telling can add something to the worth, or the strength, or the usefulness, of Marsudel's gift. She wants to steal a share of whatever fame or profit might come from Marsudel's Knowings.

Feeling suspicious did not, somehow, spill over in his mind to make him disbelieve in the merits of his own protective ram's-horn talisman.

Showing no sign of sensing Wildrad's mistrust, the sorceress continued: "After ensuring that I had a feel for the mystical influences active in the area at present -- which was what I was doing when these two soldiers joined me -- I came to this immediate vicinity, and began the specific sign-seeking. At each seventh step I took, I paused and shook out one object from my divining basket. You will notice that I carry a large basket this evening, to hold many symbolic objects. I let each item fall so that it would lie within my own moon-cast shadow for the moment I lingered there. Marsudel, I hope you're paying attention. I very seldom explain this much of my procedures to others. I tell details now, in order that your own spirit might perhaps find guidance for how your own divination can extend its reach and increase its precision."

"Yes, Miss Thrushbill, I'm listening."

"Excellent. As I was saying, then I would fix my eyes on the moon, count to seven, close my eyes, take a spinning leap, and thrust out my hand with first finger pointing. When I opened my eyes, I noted which of the symbols I had dropped up to that time was closest to my line of pointing. If none were close at all to being pointed out, I simply counted the object nearest to where I stood as being the one of importance. After all objects were dropped in this way, I made my mystical reckoning of the meaning, both of their order of falling onto the ground, and the results of my blind pointings.

"Now only one last piece of confirmation is needed. Most worthy Lady Mayor, what were you doing just before I rang the bell at your front gate?"

"I was giving Marsudel a reading lesson."

Hapsie beamed triumphantly, "I knew it! Behold the one divining object from my basket that my ritual brought to my view the most conspicuously, the vital resolving clue;" and she displayed a teratornis feather, as long as her forearm from elbow to fingertips. It was battered and bent from riding around in her basket with numerous harder objects. "A feather pen! What's more, the quill-tip of this writing implement was pointing toward the inn, as final proof that it was the pivotal object symbolizing the answer to the riddle. All the other signs fell into place then."

The bearded soldier asked her, "Do you mean that someone has been writing secret messages, to provide the information -- may the Lady Mayor forgive me, I mean no insult, but this is the kind of question the Duke himself would ask -- the information which Miss Marsudel is reputed to discover by magic?"

His companion, who happened to be acquainted with both Daskren Bluescarf and the leather merchant Mister Wheelaxle, spared Ladza from needing to make any response, by chiding the other: "The child's no fake. And what Miss Thrushbill means is that the quill pen gives a clue to how this gift works."

 
Hapsie smiled. "Both of you gentlemen grasp something of the truth. Yes, the pen symbolizes the true source of the magic. And yes, writing has, after a fashion, brought Marsudel her power. By leave of the mistress of this house, I wish all of you to accompany me to the library -- also a place heavy-hung with fate, both the fate of the Coldspring family, and the myriad fates of all who owned any of the books in the library before they were purchased for the Haven."

Ladza nodded. "Provided that we do nothing to alarm or offend any guests who may be reading or choosing books there just now."

"Fear not, Lady Mayor, nothing loud or distracting is required," Hapsie assured her. "Merely a feeling out of the power's focus. Marsudel, please allow me to take hold of one of your braids when we enter there."

Several customers who hadn't been in the library trailed after Hapsie and those with her. No one had forbidden them to watch, and Hapsie herself always liked an audience. Two female guests, and Bebsha Coldspring, were alreadyin the library, reading (in Bebsha's case, a book about magic). The seated women appeared to be neither bothered nor interested. As for Bebsha, she got Wildrad to whisper her an explanation of what was transpiring. Ladza kept her eyes on Marsudel, ready to halt the whole business if it should appear to be upsetting the child. So far, Marsudel was curious, not frightened.

Lightly grasping one strawberry-blond braid, Miss Thrushbill steered Marsudel here and there, touching the bindings of shelved books with the long teratornis feather held in her free hand. Marsudel could hear her muttering what sounded like magic words; and a thought suddenly crossed her young mind: I wonder if I'll get a Knowing to tell me if Miss Thrushbill's divining is giving the right answer? I sure don't know now if she's right or not.

At last, the sorceress released Marsudel's hair and faced Madame Coldspring. "There can be no more doubt. The origin of Marsudel's talent is rooted among these books."

Though not so far having a Knowing on the subject, Marsudel spontaneously objected: "But it's not here anymore! I looked for that special book on every shelf! I looked for it six different times! Bebsha and Wildrad and Yonazere and Grandpapa and Grandmama all helped me look for it. It went away someplace!"

Glancing over the girl's head at Ladza, Hapsie said, "How well that I came! Your daughter's talent will be a great one indeed, given proper guidance." To Marsudel, then: "Dear child, let me explain. Magic is the life of the world, the power by which the world created itself. Therefore, magic is found in all things."

Marsudel cocked her head, suddenly dubious. "Even in dirty dishwater?"

"In water, certainly, as in all of the elements. But the kind of magic you possess is especially strong in the written word, For the word which one hand writes, endless numbers of eyes may read; and the written word which one pair of eyes reads, may by a new hand be copied countless times. Like ships carrying freight, books carry ages of human wisdom; their authors live on in them, just as parents live on in their children, musicians in their songs, and so on."

During this, Ladza and Wildrad were both independently having the same thought: Am I the only one who notices that this woman isn't telling us anything?

Hapsie continued: "Apart from the library kept by the Lord Warden of the East, your family owns the greatest single collection of books on Greatjourney Island east of the Ducal Estate. Is it any surprise that all this dormant power of wisdom should extend itself to touch a daughter of the man who assembled it? Love, as well as wisdom, is a strength at work here, for did not Erskud Coldspring gather the many books as part of the great project of love by which he secured his desired bride?

"Marsudel, the carrying case that spoke to you -- for I am told that you never saw the actual book, only its container -- clearly was a spiritual projection, a representation of the combined power of all books everywhere. In the woods, in the fields and at the seashore, I have experienced the wild powers coming together to gift me with power; and you, sweet girl, have received a similar blessing within the circles of human society. The reason for your obtaining divination magic is that you were brought into contact with something standing for all human wisdom, and thus you came into contact with all humanity! How glorious a fate the universe has ordained for you!"
 
Marsudel blinked, trying to decide if she understood the substance of Miss Thrushbill's words. Then: "But, Miss Thrushbill, the voice told me the book inside the box was one that people forgot. If everybody forgot it, how can it stand for them being smart?"

The mercenary sorceress assumed a faraway look, making some elaborate gestures with the teratornis feather, before answering. "What people have forgotten, my friends, is the unity of all knowledge within the circle of being: a unity well symbolized by the spirit of human wisdom and creativity speaking audibly out of a single book-box. It may be, Marsudel, that your destiny is to precipitate a turning of the wheel of history, bringing folk around to some greater unity, such as we now can scarcely imagine. And the magic of all the universe will uphold you in this, dear child."

Wildrad was growing more skeptical by the minute. Now he made bold to ask: "Miss Thrushbill, if there's magic in everything, why isn't everyone equally a magician? Why are there just a few people making a living by spells and amulets?"

Ladza glanced at the boy. She was certain that his reference to making a living was no accidental turn of phrase. Now to see if Hapsie Thrushbill reacted to it. The two soldiers also appeared interested in hearing what Hapsie might say to Wildrad.

"An astute question, my lad. Magic is everywhere, but only a few souls have the talent to draw it forth and make it do particular things. This requires a special sort of mind."

Ladza followed every word of this exchange intently, as did the soldiers. She could recall just one occasion, before Marsudel's birth, when Hapsie had been proven wrong in a prediction. On that occasion, the sorceress had adopted toward her challenger the same grandly patient tone of voice that she now directed toward the Fairmead boy.

 
"Young man, of course the books are not alive the way we are. But there is a latent life in them--"

"Pardon me, Miss Thrushbill, what does 'latent' mean?"

"It means that a thing is hidden, or sleeping, or not yet beginning to show itself. The life that was latent in the books was only waiting for the stimulating power which would let it manifest itself. As a sailor's son, I'm sure you know that a line tossed from a ship to a dock may be pulled on by men at both ends, to draw the ship to its berth. Marsudel's potential power was like the men on the dock, receiving the mooring line flung to them by all those books on their incorporeal ship."

"A corporal ship, you say? So the life in the books is like a ship carrying soldiers?"

"No, Wildrad, that word is 'IN-corpor-EAL.' That means a thing you can't see or touch. My talking about a ship at all is only a comparison. Anyway, now the ship of the written word has unloaded the cargo of its latent life onto the dock of Marsudel's spirit, and only needs to be uncrated and put to use."

"The are you offering to take a hand in the unpacking, Hapsie?" asked Ladza.

"Rather, Lady Mayor, say that I beg for the honor of so assisting Marsudel. When fully developed, her talent will excel anything I'll ever accomplish; after all, she is already divining futures without the aid of implements of augury! But as it stands now, I do have the advantage that such power as I have works when I will it to work, instead of keeping me helplessly waiting for its next unannounced visit. Given my teaching, I'll wager Marsudel would become able to command her Knowings at will witin three years. Then the world would be at her feet, pleading for her guidance! Duke Tembicus might bestow an official title on her." Hapsie paused for a glance at the soldiers, in case her suggestion might be annoying them; but they did not seem troubled by it, so she continued. "If Marsudel's course in life doesn't lead her away from domesticity, she could easily catch herself a highborn husband, And such a husband would never dare to be unfaithful to herm for fear that she would know about his misbehavior before he even began doing it."

"Will this happen when I'm nine years old?" marvelled Marsudel, who knew very well what was the sum of six plus three.

"The husband would come later," volunteered the soldier in the Yansifarian-style uniform. He was growing convinced of this child's future greatness, and of Miss Thrushbill's usefulness in bringing this greatness to fruition.

"Serious magical training can also come later," said Marsudel's mother. "Thank you for everything, Hapsie, and we will stay in regular contact; but I want Marsudel to master spelling before she tries mastering spells. Do come by as often as you please, though; then we may agree fairly soon on a future time for such schooling as you propose."


 
Bebsha suddenly spoke up: "Mother, could Miss Thrushbill teach me some sorcery in the meantime? I know I don't have a gift like Marsudel; but I could still study things like astrology and herblore, couldn't I? The pervading magic of the universe is always equally distributed throughout the circle of life, isn't it?"

Hapsie smiled silently at this; she was fairly sure that she knew exactly which occult book Bebsha had memorized that particular line from. The blonde girl might well make a more pliable student than the redhead.

"Perhaps, dear," Ladza replied. She didn't want Bebsha to become obsessed with nothing but spells and enchantments; but still less did she want to undo the restoration of love that she and Bebsha had achieved. "We can discuss it further tomorrow, while we're mending those quilts."

"Forgive me, mother, but I thought Stobia and Gribladene were going to do that job."

"It's a big job, and they will still do most of it. But if we lighten their load by just a quilt or two, we can go do our stitching in another room, and have our talk about magic lessons privately at the same time. If the talk lasts longer than our share of the quilt-mending, we can go polish some silverware while we finish the discussion." That way, daughter, thought Ladza, you'll be gently reminded that NON-magical accomplishments have their own value. Now she faced the sorceress again. "Hapsie, you have gone to considerable trouble to share your insight with us in a time of uncertainty. I hate to ask you to walk home this late in the evening...."

"Do you want one of us to give her a lift on horseback?" asked the bearded soldier. He would no doubt have been more enthusiastic with his offer if someone like Rildavere Brickledge had been the one facing a long walk home; but he still felt that making this offer was the decent thing to do.

His shaven comrade said, "We could trade off, share the carrying of Miss Thrushbill."

"No, gentlemen, thank you kindly," replied Ladza. "I was going to suggest that Miss Thrushbill sleep here for the night, at no cost to herself, with breakfast also free to her. It's the least we can do for so conscientious an advocate of cosmic wisdom."

Hapsie gladly accepted the invitation, especially gratified that Ladza had not forced her to hint at it. Wildrad was sent to prepare a small room not currently in use. Gribladene served each of the soldiers a complimentary tankard of beer before seeing them out the front gate. Before they left, the two men said hello to Anvilhead; they weren't afraid of him, because their intentions were friendly, and the hulking brontops had gained a reputation for knowing which humans were to be considered friends.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
 
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Awakening early, Marsudel hid herself and Mister Bodeen in the loft over the stable. She told no one but Yonazere where she was going, and asked Yonazere to fetch Mistress Fairmead to the loft without attracting attention.

When Yonazere's mother Stobia came to Marsudel's haybale-castle, she naturally wondered: "Why didn't you just ask for your own mother, Marsudel? Is your mother anagry at you for something?"

Oh, no, Mistress Fairmead. It's just that Hapsie Thrushbill's maybe sticking close to my Mama, and I don't want to hurt Miss Thrushbill's feelings."

"What would hurt Miss Thrushbill's feelings, child?"

Yonazere had a guess of her own: "You don't wanna tell her she's ugly and dresses funny?" Her mother hushed her.

"I had a Knowing as soon as I woke up," Marsudel explained. "It was the for-sure one for today. It told me that Miss Thrushbill isn't only looking for money, she really does think she can do me some good.... but then it said that she's not half as smart as she thinks she is, and she was wrong about pract'ly everything she told me last night."

Stobia nodded. "Yes, I'm sure Miss Thrushbill's feelings would be very hurt if you said all of that to her."

"Well, Mistress Fairmead, I was just telling Bodeen that I don't want Miss Thrushbill teaching me anything. But she did work for Papa and Grandpapa sometimes, so I don't want to make her feel sad. Can you tell my Mama about my Knowing without Miss Thrushbill hearing you? Please?"

"I'll do it, Marsudel. And I have an idea to help you stay busy while I find a chance to do that, so you won't have to talk much with Miss Thrushbill." (Stobia had already heard Wildrad's opinion of what Hapsie was about, and agreed with her son.) "As soon as you get some breakfast in a hurry, we can say you're helping Yonazere to get her hair into braids like yours -- and if you actually do that, it won't be a lie to say it."

Marsudel's request, and Stobia's helpful suggestion, were both carried out successfully, and there were no painful scenes before Hapsie Thrushbill went on her way. Whatever her limitations as a sorceress, Hapsie at least had enough wisdom not to press her offer too persistently.
 
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The first serious job of work Bebsha had to do that morning was with needle and thread: mending twelve old horse blankets for use in the stable. This was a task she would have objected to back in their more prosperous days; but by now she had learned a better attitude about pitching in.

As she sewed and hemmed, Bebsha thought about the books of magic she had lately been reading. Many of those authors had used sewing, knitting and weaving as a metaphor of magic "holding the universe together." But right now, it suddenly occurred to the girl to wonder why none of those magicians had ever identified..... an ORIGIN.

Who, indeed, might have STARTED all of this cosmic weaving? Every spell used by magicians now living required someone having a CONSCIOUS intention to work magic; so surely there must be Someone Who had BEGUN everything?

Part of Bebsha's mind felt a wish to seek an answer to this; but somehow, a larger part of her mind wanted to avoid the subject.

So, for the time being, she closed the door of her mind against this thought.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
 
Chapter Six: The Harsh Task of Truthfulness


Scarcely two ninedays afterward, a short time after Bebsha's twelfth birthday and a short time before Wildrad's, came a morning when Marsudel received both of her Knowings for the day at once. Unlike most instances, the contingent revelation and the established-fact one both concerned the same person. Their content was far more serious than anything Marsudel had received in the four days preceding; so distressing that, to her own surprise, the little redhead found she could not bear to tell her mother about them. She was afraid that Mama would tell her to keep quiet about the whole matter -- which would be a betrayal of her friendship with the truth. She did, however, take Bodeen along with her for moral support when she set out after breakfast to do what must be done.

Mister Sporjic Mapleroot, a man twelve years married, had two sons, a daughter Marsudel's age, and a hat-making business prosperous enough to maintain a shop separate from his house. In another world and time, hatters had been subject to brain damage from chemicals they used in processing their materials; but here, a sorceror two generations back had produced a potion which successfully protected hatters from such harm. Thus, Mister Mapleroot was perfectly capable of practicing reasonable thought.

Provided he chose to do so.

As was true for most of the businesses within walking distance of the Coldspring Haven, the hat shop owed its success to the inn's existence. Mister Mapleroot accordingly had always taken care to stay on good terms with the Coldsprings, who had sent so many customers his way. When Marsudel entered the shop carrying her jet-black stuffed toy dog, the hatter greeted her pleasantly, while continuing work on a broad-brimmed gentleman's hat supported by a wooden dummy head. On his handsome if not quite young face, though, there was a look of thinking about something far away. Marsudel wished that she hadn't already known exactly what he was thinking about.

"Why, good morning, Miss Marsudel! Are you looking for Pramsie? She's helping her mother today..."

The burden Marsudel was carrying allowed no evasive small talk. "I'm looking for you, Mister Mapleroot, and you need to listen to me right now, before anyone else comes and hears us. I didn't tell anyone else about this, not even Mama, but I have to talk to you about it. Why do you want to love Miss Crownvale instead of your wife?"

The hands which had been setting a hatband in place abruptly jerked forward and down, like stumbling feet, ripping the hatbrim on both sides. "I -- what -- how -- Marsudel, is this a joke you're playing? If so, it's not very funny!"

"I'm not playing, Mister Mapleroot. You know that the truth tells me things, and it's never wrong. Miss Dorlith Crownvale wants you to leave your wife and children and go to Duskport with her. You're planning to run away tomorrow night. That's my for-certain Knowing from just this morning. But it didn't tell me why you want to be so bad. Nobody I know ever did anything like that."

The hatter began darting his eyes here and there, as if he expected soldiers to crash in through the windows and arrest him for some crime; but his mouth tried to smile casually. "You're imagining things, child."

Clasping Bodeen tightly against her, Marsudel thought of the nightmares which had followed her Papa's murder. Always they had depicted her Papa dying, and sometimes Mama, Bebsha, even Mistress Pineshade and Gribladene as well. But even the worst of the nightmares had never shown Papa deserting his family on purpose. She set her face in defiance of this adult's lying.

"I never imagine my Knowings, Mister Mapleroot. They always tell me the truth, and I always know the difference from just me thinking things. Why don't you love Mistress Mapleroot anymore? Does she yell at you all the time, or take the biggest piece of pie after supper?"
 
Apparently reassured that no soldiers were crashing in through the windows at just this moment, Sporjic Mapleroot made one more attempt to assert adult superiority. "Now listen, little girl. I understand that these Knowings of yours come in bits and pieces. They're no substitute for experience of the world."

"What's a sussa-toot?"

"What I mean to say is, this magic of yours doesn't tell you the whole story."

"Then you tell me." Marsudel hated to think ill of the hatter, who had always seemed like a kindly man. "Is Mistress Mapleroot mean to you?"

He considered his answer, yet ended up revealing more than he had intended to -- as if something about Marsudel were contagious. "Not mean to me. But -- she's boring. I'm tired of her! She's keeping me from being as happy as I want to be, as I have a right to be."

With her hand that was not holding Bodeen, Marsudel twirled one of her long red braids. "My Papa never talked much about if he was happy. He always wanted to know if Mama was happy."

The hatter, being a man, was less clever at hiding annoyance than Hapsie Thrushbill, or than Leathra Pineshade -- or, had he known it, than his own wife. He wished that some customer would come in and interrupt this disturbing interview, but none did. Still, he did not simply chase Marsudel out of the shop; something in him needed to turn the aggressive child around to his way of thinking, even though she was far too young to have experienced anything remotely resembling a romantic feeling. If the magical girl's attitude could be changed, he fancied that this would change the moral realities. "I'm sure your parents were very lucky that way; they had a love-spell cast for them early on, as I recall. But it's different with me and Flunia. She just isn't -- Look, Dorlith and I just plain belong together! Our hearts tell us we do, and isn't the heart all that matters? You're too young to understand how things happen between men and women; when you're older, I'm sure you'll get a Knowing that I was right."

Marsudel stood her ground. "Mister Mapleroot, I'm old enough to know what a promise is. You and Mistress Mapleroot jumped over the lucky-life sticks together with your friends watching, and you made a promise to stay with her. It isn't right to break a promise."

The unfaithful husband's fists clenched briefly. "What's not right is to go against love. Sometimes, two people find a love that comes from destiny, a love written in the stars.... a love more important than lucky-life sticks and promises on some old piece of parchment."

Marsudel fixed a steady gaze on him, which his eyes could not meet. "The truth is not only bigger than parchment, it's even bigger than the stars. And it's real important this time, because both my Knowings are for you. Most of the time, I get my no-matter-what Knowing about one thing, and my could-be-this-or-that Knowing about something else. But they're both for you today, Mister Mapleroot.

"The for-sure thing is that you're being naughty to your wife the way I said. The up-to-you thing is this: if you forget about Miss Crownvale now, and tell your wife you're sorry, Mistress Mapleroot will take your 'pology and still love you. But if you run away, very soon Miss Crownvale will get tired of you like you got tired of Mistress Mapleroot. Then she'll steal your money and run off to Yansifar without you. It'll be too late then to go home. Your wife will hate you until you die, and so will your children. Right now is your only chance to stop those bad things from happening."

 
Mister Mapleroot lost his final shred of false friendliness. "That's enough out of you, Duchess Longnose! No puffed-up six-year-old is going to tell me what to do. My life belongs to me. ME!! Not to you and your magic! I'll have my freedom!"

"Will you still have your freedom when all your money's gone?"

Sporjic Mapleroot's only answer to this was full of the kind of words Marsudel's parents had strictly taught her never to use. In both Klorvundish and Yansifarian. Marsudel covered Bodeen's ears as she walked out of the hat shop.

Outside, she met Mister Mapleroot's two sons, returning from some errand. "Is that Papa shouting in there?" asked the elder boy. "Has something bad happened?"

"Something bad maybe will happen," replied Marsudel, trying not to cry. "He has to decide if it happens or not. You better ask him yourself." Then she quickened her steps toward home.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As if to give Marsudel a rest, the next two days' Knowings revealed nothing to cause anyone distress. Mister Mapleroot, however, did go ahead and leave his family. Although Marsudel's foretelling of this had not been made public, Madame Coldspring found herself having to mollify Flunia Mapleroot's outrage that she had not been the one to whom Marsudel immediately went. This resulted in Marsudel being compelled to promise that she would at least warn her Mama about Knowings that could upset someone.

Mistress Mapleroot, her livelihood gone, sold the house and departed from Coldspring Township with her children. Refusing an offer of employment at the inn, she found work in Dawnport as a seamstress. Her elder son became a bricklayer's apprentice, and did not enjoy it at all. Annoyed as they were at Marsudel, that annoyance was nothing compared to their seething bitterness against the man who had betrayed them.

After this unpleasantness, Marsudel believed she understood the cost of being friends with the truth.

But she was barely starting to learn.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 
Dabrius Ripplesand, since the days when he had lent a hand in transporting the timber for the construction of the Coldspring Haven, had not grown up to be the most respectable of men. He was rumored to spend long stretches of time (between short stretches of actual work) camping along the Dreary Coast -- that is, the colder, less-peopled part of Greatjourney Island, north of the Weatherwall Mountains. The island's few genuine bandits maintained hideouts up there, and anyone who wasn't a bandit (or a great fool) visited the Dreary Coast only in strong numbers and well armed. Certainly, Dabrius had started more than one fistfight south of the mountains, though he had gone to some lengths to avoid ever fighting for his country.

But it was not upon any solid evidence that young Mister Ripplesand was accused, early that summer, of stealing several prize sheep from a prominent landowner in Oakbranch Township. Accordingly, a fair-minded constable did not refuse to listen when the suspect told him, "The Lady Mayor of Coldspring Township, with the daughter who reads minds and sees the future, knows me. Her girl Marsudel will prove I'm innocent!"

Grandpapa Shorecastle, taking Marsudel and Wildrad fishing on Rushing Creek (an outing from which Bebsha had excused herself) found he had to cut their fun short at the arrival of the constable's party. When he saw that his granddaughter was going to have to behold an acquaintance standing shackled like a robber, he briefly wished that the long-forgotten mystery of ultimate truth had stayed forgotten, or at least had allowed the girl to grow older before imposing itself on her.

But someone had to start the uncomfortable conversation, so Jedloff did. "Constable Kettleworth! Is that Dabrius Ripplesand you've arrested? What can he possibly have done to warrant chains?"

"Stolen Squire Lampshine's breeding sheep," replied the stout, businesslike enforcer of the Duke's peace. "Or so charges Judge Fieldbrook."

"It's a lie!" shouted the prisoner. "Squire Shorecastle, you know I'm not a thief! Make Marsudel tell them I'm not!"

"That is more or less why we brought him here, instead of directly to prison," said Constable Kettleworth. "In the interest of fairness, I wanted to see if your Marsudel could identify someone else as the real thief, or at least swear to Mister Ripplesand's innocence."

The seriousness of the situation registered on the little redhead's mind. "Grandpapa! What are they going to do to Dabrius?"

"If he's found guilty, he could spend as much as five years at forced labor -- possibly over in Klorvund, where they've got houses, barns, shops and bridges to rebuild since the last invasion of Plateau Barbarians."

Marsudel's hazel eyes widened. "But he didn't steal any old sheeps! Dabrius doesn't even like mutton!"

Constable Kettleworth looked almost as hopeful as Dabrius did. "Can you say that for a certainty? Either by reason of your mystic power, or by reason of having seen Dabrius Ripplesand somewhere else at the time the animals were stolen, four nights previous?"

"No. Dabrius wasn't with us that night. And I don't have a Knowing about it. I just know he never stole anything around here. It had to be someone else who took the Squire's sheeps."

"I never heard of Dabrius stealing anything either," Wildrad volunteered, and was ignored.

The constable persisted: "So your power has not told you of this man's innocence for certain?"

"Say it does, Marsudel!" Dabrius screamed. "You know I'm an honest man; isn't that the same thing? You have to be able to divine that I didn't steal from old Mister Lampshine! Cast a spell to prove it!"

Marsudel felt as miserable as she had ever felt since getting over the worst grief of her father's death. "It's not casting magic, Dabrius. I can't make the Knowings come, and I can't pick what they tell me. I don't believe you stole anything, but I don't have a Knowing about it. There's lots of things I don't have Knowings about. If I said I had a Knowing when I didn't, I'd be telling a lie!"

 
The accused man turned livid. "So you don't care what happens to me? To a friend of your father? Wherever he is, I'll wager he's ashamed of you, you heartless little--!" his outburst was interrupted by a blow to the face from one of the constable's deputies, but too late to prevent Marsudel from letting out her own outburst, of tearful wailing.

Ladza Coldspring was anything but a violent person at heart, but now she suddenly added her own fist to the bruising of Dabrius' face. Then she gathered up her daughter and hastened away from the scene, no longer greatly caring what the law did with so self-absorbed a soul as Dabrius.

Her father Squire Shorecastle was left behind to tell the constable, "You surely see that my granddaughter can shed no further light on this case. If it will help for me to bear witness to Mister Ripplesand's history of honesty, let me know. And we'll let you know if Marsudel has any revelations about him later. That's all I can promise."

Constable Troutkettle had been present on countless occasions of magic being performed, and he always took it in stride; but now he was in something like awe. "After the way your granddaughter conducted herself here, I'm inclined now to accept on trust any supernatural pronouncement she issues in the future. If Mister Ripplesand is sentenced to hard labor, it may still be possible to have him released early, if Marsudel does eventually have -- a 'Knowing,' did she call it?"

Ladza, meanwhile, was cuddling and soothing her weeping child, telling her again and again what a good and brave little girl she was. Grandpapa, when free to join them, seconded those sentiments heartily. Bebsha, upon learning about the latest incident, experienced a flash of unreasoning jealousy -- as if she had cause to envy her little sister for being made so unhappy -- but succeeded in rejecting this emotion.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

No summons came from Judge Fieldbrook for any member of Marsudel's family. Dabrius Ripplesand, not waiting to give Jedloff Shorecastle a chance to testify on his behalf, escaped from jail, eluding all pursuit and seeming to vanish from the earth. No one else was charged with the theft of the sheep, which were never recovered. But scarcely a nineday after her encounter with Constable Troutkettle, Marsudel endured yet another painful experience.

Ladza was away in Dawnport on business, leaving Leathra Pineshade in charge of the inn. Marsudel's anxiety about Mama leaving her behind at the Haven had been assuaged by an explicit Knowing that Mama would return safely from the trip. She waa accompanied by two of her father's men, and rode in a wagon pulled by Anvilhead. And in her absence, Marsudel would not be without company.

In addition to Yonazere's faithful presence, Pingra the lumberman's daughter, who had reported the finding of the dead bear-monster, was expected to visit on this day, along with another playmate of theirs named Leedalin. But Marsudel's glad anticipation of an amusement-filled day was darkened by a Knowing of the choice-presenting kind, which came to her mere minutes before her friends' arrival.

She recounted it to the nearest persons at the time she received it, these being Leathra, Yonazere, and Yonazere's mother Stobia. "It says that my for-sure Knowing will come while we're playing today. And when that one comes, if I let anyone stop me from telling it, somebody'll die, just like Mister Wheelaxle would've been shot by that musket if I hadn't warned him. If I do tell it, no one'll die, but lots of girls won't play with Bodeen and me anymore!"

"I'll always play with you and Bodeen," Yonazere declared loyally, prompting her mother to tell her, "There's my good girl!"

Leathra addressed Marsudel directly: "I think you should start out playing today exactly as if there were nothing wrong. Don't let a future problem rob you of your childhood in the here and now. When the problem comes, your heart will tell you what to do."

Yonazere, however, could not shake the feeling that more positive measures were called for, so she asked her big brother to keep an eye on Marsudel today. Wildrad, like others at the inn, was so accustomed by now to Marsudel's revelations, that there was no reason for Yonazere not to state openly that another Knowing was her cause for worry. Wildrad took the matter seriously.... and took thought for hiding places from which he could keep watch without needlessly disrupting the children's games.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


 
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Pingra and Leedalin arrived as expected. To prevent the two visitors from excluding Yonazere as a "baby," Marsudel persuaded them to play a game which needed four players. The Coldspring household could provide the necessary equipment for this game, namely four slender pieces of rope, each precisely ten feet long.

The four children formed a square, all of them facing outward from their corners. Each girl held a rope end in each hand, so that the ropes defined the sides of the square. Two girls, diagonally opposite each other, would back up toward each other until they were as close together as they could be without tripping each other when they moved. The square thus was flattened into a line, with two players at the midpoint and one at each end. The central pair would then rotate in an agreed direction, and the other two would run around accordingly, having shifted their hand-grips as needed in order to keep hold of their ends of rope. As their speed increased, they leaned out more, placing more of a burden on the central pair. The resulting wheel-like motion continued until one of the players stumbled, lost hold of a rope, or was too tired to go on. Then the center pair would reverse roles with the other two.

It was more or less an endurance contest. (Mister Bodeen, perched on a large rock, was theoretically keeping score.) When older boys played the same game, the reckless ones would play in settings where losing hold and falling carried some risk for an outside pair -- such as where there were thorny weeds to fall into.

Marsudel kept up her friends' interest in this game for longer than usual, by insisting that they try different team-ups. Teamed with Yonazere at the start, she closed her hands around all of the ropes when she and her little friend were at the hub, lest Yonazere lose hold so quickly as to attract jeering from their older playmates. There was no rule against a player at the hub doing this; and when Leedalin and Pingra had their turns teaming with Yonazere, self-interest caused them to do as their hostess had done when playing in the center position.

Only after every one of the four girls had been partners more than once with every other one did Leedalin say, "We've played this long enough. I know something else we can do."

Marsudel became alert. Plain logic, needing no further supernatural guidance at this point, suggested that the occasion for her fateful Knowing -- the first Knowing to have been itself predicted BY another Knowing -- could be about to arise. "What's your new thing?" she asked her guest.

"You know how lots of magicians have been running all around the township since last year?" said Leedalin, retaining just enough sensitivity not to remind Marsudel directly that those magicians had been fruitlessly investigating the murder of Erskud Coldspring. "Well, I got to talk with one of them, a man from Duskport named Zimgath Kegbinder, and he told me some magic that we could do!"

"Marsudel already does magic," Yonazere interjected.

"She never did the kind Leedalin found out about," said Pingra, who had been informed previously of her friend's encounter with Mister Kegbinder.

"And it's a magic all of us can do," Leedalin went on. "But we have to visit the Yestertime Place to do it."

There were numerous Yestertime Places randomly scattered across Greatjourney Island: standing remnants of long-vacant stone buildings. Leedalin was referring, naturally, to the one closest to the Coldspring Haven. Though older than any surviving written history of the island, the Yestertime Places all had been designed and built with skill equal or superior to what any present-day builder could manage. No one, including sorcerers visiting from Klorvund and Yansifar, had ever been able to explain their origin convincingly. It was popularly held, however, that ancient magic still hovered in and around those ruins. The magicians hunting for the reasons behind Mister Coldspring's demise had not failed to perform conjurations at Yestertime Places, for all that this had helped their investigation.

The local Yestertime Place, consisting of two partial walls joined in what had been a building's corner, stood in a pasture within easy walking distance of where the four girls now stood. There had originally been a cellar under that long-ago building; but local residents, before Marsudel's parents had been born, had filled in the hole so as to eliminate a hazard to children and livestock.

Grabbing for a share of Leedalin's prestige from knowing something before Marsudel knew it, Pingra contributed to the explanation: "There's a special kind of plant that grows around some of the Yestertime Places, and it grows at the one close to us. It's a magic plant, called beetle-radish. If we touch the old stones, make a wish, and eat some beetle-radish leaves--"

"--we can change ourselves into animals!" Leedalin finished.

 
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