Rosemary Kirstein - Steerswoman 04 by The Language of Power Page A

of the last house.” A pause. “Where you tripped over the
beggar.”
    Both women considered.
    “If they’re Jannik’s minions, they’re very alert to have
noticed me this soon.”
    “And serious about their duties. He’s not here to tell them
what to do.”
    “He may have given them spells to speak to him at a
distance.”
    Bel frowned. “Like links?”
    “Or something similar.” Fletcher, the wizard’s minion Rowan
and Bel had met in the Outskirts, had carried a link: a small magical device
with which he could paint colored lights in the air, schematic representations
of the land below, as seen through the eye of a Guidestar. The link had allowed
the Guidestars to track Fletcher’s movements, and was also used to report back
to his master or masters—but Fletcher had been executed by the Outskirters
before Rowan could learn more.
    And this was unfortunate. It seemed to Rowan that the common
folk would one day need an ally with magic at his or her command, and with
Fletcher gone, there remained only two slim chances for help: Corvus, the
wizard in Wulfshaven, who, thanks to Rowan, knew something of what was
occurring; and Wiliam, a boy of the common folk, whom Rowan and Bel had
befriended on the road, and who was now serving as Corvus’s apprentice.
    But Corvus had declined to commit himself, and his own goals
and motives remained unknown. He might yet choose to side with the
master-wizard.
    And young Willam—who knew what he might become under
Corvus’s influence?
    Fletcher would have helped. Rowan was certain of it.
    But as ever, when thoughts of Fletcher arrived unexpectedly,
the steerswoman needed a moment to settle her emotions. She forced herself to
consider her lost lover merely in the light of the information provided by him
and by the fact of his existence.
    She was, slowly, becoming rather good at this.
    Rowan recovered her train of thought. “If every minor
wizard’s servant carried something as powerful as a link, the fact could not
have been kept secret for this long. I suspect these watchers are using
something simpler.”
    “Or nothing at all.”
    “Which means that they had advance warning of my arrival—”
    “—or already knew that anyone asking about Kieran and Latitia
must be on to something very important.”
    And that was exactly what they had been watching for, the reason
for all caution and urgency.
    Without knowing why Latitia had visited Donner so close in
time to the fall of the unknown Guidestar, Rowan could not know whether the
matter had any significance at all. But evidence of scrutiny was proof of
importance.
    Rowan had planned to conduct her investigation as quickly as
possible, for as long as she was able. And should the wizard
    Jannik become interested in the investigation, the plan
called for Rowan and Bel, quite sensibly, to flee.
    But without Jannik himself present
    Rowan said, reluctantly, “This is just too unclear …” More
silence.
    Rowan said, “Is it possible that neither of those people is
watching me at all?”
    “Yes. The beggar might keep himself underfoot for the
reasons you’ve said. The woman might be a coincidence.”
    “It takes three to know,” Rowan muttered: a Steerswomen’s
adage.
    Bel had heard it often. “Well,” she said, and rose to leave,
“if you trip over the beggar two more times, let me know.”
     
    The next morning, Rowan found the elderly orchard worker
among a troop of others, all ages, who were engaged in the odorous task of
spreading manure throughout the pear orchard. The man, stooped and gnarled but
remarkably strong, was definitely not inclined to converse. Nevertheless,
custom required that he reply to any question asked by a steerswoman, and he
did so, as tersely as possible. Rowan trailed along behind him for an hour,
trying to inspire him to expand on the subject of Kieran. Despite the effort,
she acquired only information that she had already received from other sources.
    Eventually, her frustration became