Magic Casement Read Free

it?”
     

2
    No
one had ever suggested that Mistress Meolome might be a sorceress, but the
thought occurred to Inos as she panted up the last alleyway that led to the
castle. Three and a half gold imperials? How had she ever been bewitched into
agreeing to pay so much for a mere swatch of silk?
    Aunt
Kade would have hysterics.
    Aunt
Kade must not be allowed to find out.
    The
best strategy was certainly for Inos to go to her father at once and explain
that she had saved him the trouble of choosing a birthday gift for her. True,
her birthday was still some time off. Also true, he had never given her
anything worth three and a half gold imperials-not close, even-but she was
growing up and she needed such little luxuries now. Surely he would understand
when he saw the silk itself and she explained why she had chosen it and why it
was so suitable. He would be pleased that she was beginning to take more of an
interest in ladylike matters... Wouldn’t he?
    She
had some jewelry of her own that she might be able to sell-if she was able to
sneak back into the town again. She might raise a hall imperial that way. A
straight “three” would sound a much neater, rounder sort of number.
    Father
would understand, of course, that the only alternative was his dear daughter’s
tragic suicide from the highest battlements. Possibly she could live without
the silk-she had managed so far-but she could certainly not endure the shame of
having to return it. So he would congratulate her on her good taste and see
that the money was sent as she had promised.
    Wouldn’t
he?
    She
reached the top of the lane and paused to catch her breath, and also to
reconnoiter the courtyard. There was only one gate to the castle and it opened
into this cobbled outer court. Now there was no wagon in sight to provide
cover, only a few ambling pedestrians. The summer sun was high enough to smile
in over the ancient stone walls and brighten the pigeons that strutted around,
cleaning up the horse droppings. Relics of winter snow bled quietly to death in
corners. A man-at-arms was standing as rigid as his pike beside the gate, with
two mangy dogs snuffling aimlessly beside him. Within the big arch of the
entrance, nosy old Thosolin would be lurking in his guard room.
    It
was none of Thosolin’s business, she decided firmly. Whether or not he
had the right to stop her going out, he certainly could not stop her coming in.
She did not recognize the petrified man-at-arms, but he looked as if he were
taking his job unusually seriously and so would not interfere. She squared her
shoulders, adjusted the silk below her arm, and began to march.
    She
had every right to go into the town by herself, and if she chose to do so in
shabby old jodhpurs and a leather doublet that might have been thrown out by
one of Inisso’s stablehands, well, that was certainly not Thosolin’s
business either.
    She
wondered who the guard on the gate was, he must be somebody new. It was not
until she had almost reached the arch that--
    He
rolled his eyes in alarm and almost dropped his pike. Then he came even more
stiffly to attention, staring straight ahead, not looking at her. Inosolan
bristled angrily.
    His
cone-shaped helmet was too small, sitting like an oversize egg in the nest of
his unruly brown hair. His chain mail was rusty and much too large. His very
plain face was turning from brown to pink, showing up his freckles.
    “What
on earth are you doing?” she demanded. “I thought you were off on
the mainland.”
    “I’m
just back for a couple of days,” he muttered. His eyes rolled warningly
toward the guard room door.
    “Well,
why didn’t you tell me?” She put her hands on her hips and
inspected him crossly. “You look absurd! Why are you dressed up like
that? And what are you doing here? Why aren’t you at the stables?”
    Pudding,
the gang had called Rap when they were all small together. He’d had
almost no nose then, and not much more now. His face was all chin and mouth