Free Mastiff by Tamora Pierce Page A

That’s
seriously
big magic, right? Surely the realm doesn’t have that many great mages that could do this.”

    “She’s the thinker,” Tunstall said. “I’m the beauty.”

    Master Farmer smiled at him, then looked at me. “There are plenty of powerful mages in the realm these days, and lots of them are angry. You know about the licenses and the taxes on mages, don’t you?”

    “Only a fool Dog doesn’t attend to what’s going on,” Tunstall said irritably.

    Master Farmer shrugged. “I meant no offense. The Dogs I work with concern themselves with keeping the peace, not politics. I tend to stay to myself, but even I’ve heard other mages say the realm has no business interfering in what we do. Some of the loudest protest comes from the great mages—some of the quietest whispers, too, I wager. It would only take one or two great mages to do something like this.”

    “All that effort and power just to drown the prince?” Tunstall asked. “That doesn’t play out. And we see no signs of any other group but the one that attacked the palace.”

    “Nor a second enemy that came just in time to sink them,” I added. “We’re missing a piece.”

    Hearing the sound of folk approaching, I looked back at the steps to the palace. Mistress Orielle and Master Ironwood were coming to join us. For company they had two of the King’s Own as torchbearers and a pair of servants. One carried a flask and two cups while the other had what looked to be cloaks over one arm.

    “I reached through my mirror to let them know what I’d found,” I heard Master Farmer say. “They might help. And it will be interesting if they refuse, or if any help they give goes awry and destroys what we’ve found.”

    I turned to gaze at him, impressed. Tunstall also had an expression of approval on his face. There was more to Master Farmer than the plain package that he came in.

    The great mages halted near the water’s edge and stared at Master Farmer’s creations. Master Ironwood sniffed. “Very pretty,” he said. “You summoned us to show pictures?”

    Master Farmer looked at him with dull cow eyes. “Naw,” he drawled. “I’m showin’ you where two ships are sunk along with crew and slaves.”

    “Sunk?” Mistress Orielle repeated. “These ships are on the bottom of the cove?”

    “If you’d looked down here, you mighta seen ’em yourself,” Master Farmer replied. “But you’ve both been that busy, I know.”

    “Doubtless those vessels have been down for years,” Master Ironwood snapped.

    Mistress Orielle stretched out a hand, letting her Gift roll down into the sea. After a moment, she said, “No. They are almost whole. The trash that rises from them is fresh. They’ve been here a day, perhaps less.”

    Master Farmer nodded. His light ships were coming closer to the beach. “I learned this spell from a teacher that worked in fishin’ villages all the time. When my images are close enough, we’ll see anything about them that’s touched with magic.” He’d dropped his yokel’s accent some. He’d been mocking the royal mages, I realized. I shook my head. What manner of looby tried to pull a bear’s tail? In truth, I’d sooner meddle with that bear than a mage, for mages are far more touchy. Then I saw Master Farmer scratch his head. He wasn’t done tweaking these two high-and-mighty folk. He said, “A course, we’d see even the non-magicked stuff if we could raise the ships from the bottom, but I can’t do that.”

    “Of course
you
cannot,” Master Ironwood said. If he had noticed Master Farmer’s nonsense, it did not show. Even Mistress Orielle did not seem to suspect. “What manner of Provost’s mage studies with fishing mages?” he asked.

    “One that studies with any mage that will take him,” Master Farmer replied. “I wasn’t good enough for the City of the Gods or Carthak, nor had I the coin for it. And Master Seabreeze was good for other things. He could call winds, seek