13 Treasures by Michelle Harrison Read Free Book Online Page A

behind her.
    Tanya stumbled out into the sunlight, visibly shaken. Fabian strolled toward her lazily. “You do realize that it’s an hour-long wait for the next bus if we miss this one, don’t you?” He glanced down at the compass in Tanya’s hand and looked distinctly unimpressed.
    “Surely you didn’t just buy that old thing?”
    “The old woman,” Tanya said, her voice quivering. “The one in the shop. She gave it to me.”
    “What old woman?” said Fabian, searching the length of the street earnestly, but the old lady was gone.
    “She came out just before I did,” said Tanya, still clutching the compass stupidly.
    Fabian’s mouth fell open. “You don’t mean Mad Morag?”
    “
Mad Morag
? You know her?”
    “Everyone knows her,” said Fabian. He began to jog, and Tanya had to sprint to keep up with him, Oberon’s bone clashing against her knees.
    “How do
you
know her?” she panted as they sped into the square and on, past the marketplace.
    “I don’t really
know
her. I meant I know of her. I’ve just heard things.”
    “What things?”
    “Like she lives in the woods in a caravan, and hardly ever goes out. And she barely talks to anyone, except when she tells them their fortunes. And she’s supposed to be a witch.”
    The bus came into view, held up by a line of people waiting to get on.
    “I wouldn’t pay any attention to her,” Fabian added. “The old girl’s crackers.”
    But even after boarding the bus, Tanya could not help thinking of the old woman. She looked down at the compass, and for the first time noticed that the needle was spinning uselessly.
    “It doesn’t even work,” said Fabian. “Throw it away. You don’t know where it’s been.”
    “I say,” a voice interrupted from the seat behind. “Do you mind if I take a look at that?”
    Tanya turned to look at the scruffy middle-aged man who was leaning earnestly toward her. He was dressed strangely, in a thin tattered raincoat that was inappropriate given the weather, and a wide-brimmed hat that left his face partially in shadow.
    “I collect antiques, you see,” the man continued. He whipped out an eyeglass and held out his hand. Tanya handed him the compass somewhat reluctantly. A sudden feeling she could not explain, that somehow the man was familiar to her, passed through her mind. She wondered if she had seen him on television, on an antique hunt program perhaps.
    She tried to get a better look at his face, but the stranger had ducked his head as he was studying the compass and all she could see was the top of his hat. A moment later he looked up, and Tanya quickly lowered her eyes, not wanting to make it obvious she had been staring.
    “How much did you pay for it?”
    Tanya stared at him blankly.
    “Five pounds,” she lied.
    “If it was working it would be worth around fifty pounds,” said the stranger. “But obviously the fact that it’s not lowers the value.” Still clutching the compass with one hand, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of crisp bank notes. “I’ll give you twenty pounds for it.”
    For a moment Tanya was too surprised to answer. Luckily, Fabian came to her rescue.
    “Why?” he said, doing nothing to hide his suspicion.
    The man’s smile never wavered. “I told you, I’m an antiques dealer.”
    “No, you said you were an antiques
collector,
” Fabian retorted, quick as a flash.
    The man’s smile no longer reached his eyes. It was clear he was finding Fabian tiresome. “I’ll give you thirty pounds,” he said to Tanya. “That’s a good deal, trust me.”
    “
I
don’t trust you,” Fabian said immediately. “How do we know what the compass is worth if we only have your word for it? For all we know you could be a rip-off merchant.”
    By now the conversation was attracting curious glances and whispers from other passengers. Tanya had barely said a word to the stranger, but the more insistent he became the more determined she was to hang on to the compass for