Free Whisperings of Magic by Karleen Bradford Page A

men have gone up there to seek work, but none have returned save one boy—and he has come back terrified and witless. He has barricaded himself in his mother’s house and will speak to no one. She, poor lady, says he cannot speak.”
    “Who is this lady? Where does she live?” Dahl broke in, but at the loudness of his voice the maid gave a small squeak and looked at him in terror.
    “I dare not say.”
    “Please,” Catryn said gently. “Tell us. We mean to help.” She threw a warning glance at Dahl.
    “I know not what help you could possibly give us,” the girl answered, looking again at Catryn, but keeping a wary eye on Dahl.
    “Please,” Catryn repeated.
    “Her name is Mavahn and she lives in a house at the edge of the village. Just follow the path that leads from the well to the north. Do not tell her I told you!” The words came out in a rush.
    “What is there to fear if I do?” Catryn asked.
    The girl began to shake. She spilled a mug of ale, but did not seem to notice. “I know not what there is to fear,” she said miserably, “but there is something.”
    “Rest easy,” Catryn reassured her. “We will not tell.”
    The maid scurried off like a frightened mouse.
    Slabs of thick dark bread were handed around. Catryn, Dahl and Bruhn were quick to pile their chunks of bread high with meat and begin to eat. Their hunger appeased, they began to talk again.
    “The men you overheard talking the other night,” Dahl asked Catryn, “are they here?”
    Catryn looked around. “No,” she answered. She saw a man at the next table eyeing them curiously. His companion sat with head bowed, a hood obscuring his face. For a moment Catryn’s skin prickled. There was something about that form …
    The innkeeper came back.
    “I will show you a loft where you may make yourselves comfortable this night,” he said, looking at Dahl and Bruhn. Then he turned to Catryn. “For you, I have a small room.” The offers were made grudgingly.
    Catryn saw the hooded man at the next table stiffen slightly. Almost, he turned his head toward them, then seemed to catch himself in time.
    Why does he not want us to see his face? she wondered.

    Much later that night, she woke. She lay for a moment, trying to puzzle out what had wakened her, but she could hear nothing. Nevertheless, she got up. The floor was cold to her bare feet. She crept over to the door of her room and opened it as quietly as she could. Her room gave onto the main area. She could see the embers of the fire glowing and sending out an occasional spark. A few snores told her that some of the inn’s patrons slept there, stretched out on benches. Two men sat talking at the table where she and the others had eaten earlier. Catryn froze. One man wore a hood low over his face. Surely he was the same one who had shown such interest in them earlier on. The other … the other was Bruhn!
    As she watched, Bruhn stood up. He cast a look around him that seemed almost furtive, then made his way over to the ladder in the corner of the room and climbed up to the loft above. Catryn watched him disappear into the darkness. She turned to look again at the other man, but he was gone. The table was empty. A cold draft suddenly swirled around her. She looked toward the door of the inn, just in time to see it close with a quiet thump.
    Catryn curled back up on the pallet that was her bed, but she did not fall asleep again. What had Bruhn been doing there? It was possible he had not been able to sleep either and had gone down to sit by the fire for a while. It was possible that his encounter with the hooded man had just been by chance.
    Even as she tried to convince herself, Catryn knewshe did not believe it. Somehow that man had arranged with Bruhn to come down after all were asleep and meet with him. He could have done it easily enough. Bruhn had stayed at the table for a while to finish his ale after she and Dahl had retired. The man could have spoken to him then.
    But why would