Scent of Magic by Andre Norton Read Free Book Online Page A

within, she slipped around the narrow crack she had left for her return and speedily snapped the shutter bolts into place. Before her, making her stretch some distance to finish her task, was the display shelf to show off the most enticing wares, and those were in place—small bottles, boxes with gem-set lids, pomanders ready to swing from neck or girdle—all treasures to be filled with Halwice's products, eye-catching enough to attract customers to the shop.
    There was light enough here now, and Halwice had blown out the lamp, pushing it back to its stand. She was frowning at the chair which had been her prison.
    “Push that into the far corner,” she ordered. “It must be seen as part of what is rightfully here when they come.”
    Willadene, struggling with the heavy chair, wanted to ask who “they” might be, but she had a feeling that Halwice was in full command now and she was best off doing as the Herbmistress bade with no more questions.
    When she had maneuvered the chair into the shadowed back corner Halwice had suggested, her attention was caught by a spark of color on the floor near where she had struggled with the inert body to be hidden within.
    Stooping, she picked up what at first she thought was a coin, for it was round and about the size of a one noble piece. However, when she turned it over she could see the small hook on the edge; clearly it had been meant to hang from a chain as an ornament. Nor was it the coin she thought it; rather, on both surfaces front and back, it bore a symbol—widespread wings centered by a shield on which was engraved a sword and a staff crossed. That was a badge she had seen several times—it belonged to the Chancellor.
    “Give that here!” Halwice's voice did not rise anylouder, but it was clear that she was even more disturbed. As Willadene quickly handed over her find she saw Halwice loose one of her handholds on the counter to tuck it quickly between the lacings of her bodice into hiding.
    “This is not to be spoken of—”
    Willadene nodded. Perhaps it was the property of that body (she still found it hard to believe Halwice's assurance he was not dead) loosened when she had dragged him behind the curtain.
    “Now, listen with care, girl, and prove you have that within you which is needed. The watch will come—they should be here very soon now. What you found here was a trap—for me—for that one inside. So I can well believe that the district Reeve's own guard will visit us. You have come to get spices for Jacoba as always. Measure out the proper ones in the usual amounts—”
    The woman gripped the counter with both hands again as the girl drew a small square of discarded paper from a shelf under that counter, smoothed it out on the surface above, and took down a box close at hand. Carefully she used the small scoop within and shook what looked like the usual amount of condiments onto the paper.
    She had just time enough to slide that box back into place when she heard, from the street outside, the tramp of heavy boots drilled into unison of step. Halwice had been right! That was surely the Reeve's guard. Willadene rounded the counter to face the Herbmistress. She felt a growing need to hold on to the polished wood for support even as Halwice was doing.
    If Jacoba had reported her already as a runaway she would speedily be taken. Her only hope was that the inn lay in another section of the town and that the Reeve who had jurisdiction in that quarter would not have been able to already pass the news to his peers.
    There was a man in the doorway but Halwice did not look to him; instead she was scowling at Willadene.
    “Tell Jacoba that there is no herb on earth which willmake her slop worth the eating. Her account is already high—when does she plan to pay?”
    Willadene, so conscious of the man who was now nearly at her shoulder, fought to control her voice.
    “Mistress, I be but the cook maid. The inn mistress does not tell me anything save go and get