The Crimson Crown by Cinda Williams Chima Page B

trader I’ve ever met, Watersong thought. Maybe there was some sort of error at his Renaming.
    “I’m looking for Marisa Pines market,” the boy Gavan said. “Am I close?”
    Watersong nodded. “Very close.” She turned to point. “It’s just down this—”
    “I understand they buy metalwork there,” he interrupted, gripping her arm.
    “They mostly sell,” Watersong said, pulling free and taking a step back. She was suddenly aware of being alone in the woods with a boy. It had never bothered her before. “Demonai work, especially. Though they will buy if the price is right.”
    “Would you…would you look at something and tell me if you think it would sell?” The boy seemed edgy; nervous, even.
    Well. He’d said he was new. Relaxing a bit, Watersong nodded.
    The trader pulled out a small pouch and emptied it onto Watersong’s palm. Out fell a massive gold ring, engraved with two falcons, back to back, their claws extended. She felt the tingle of magic in metal.
    “It’s flashcraft?” Watersong asked.
    The boy nodded. “Very old. Copp—clan made.”
    “You’ll probably get a good price for it, then,” Watersong said, and tried to hand it back. “I can show you the way to—”
    “Try it on,” the trader urged. “I’m wondering if it’s too heavy for a woman.”
    “All right,” Watersong said, sliding it onto her forefinger. “But you’ll really need to speak with…with—” Her voice trailed off as her mind clouded, and her body refused to obey her commands.
    “Now, then,” the trader said, gripping her arms and forcing her to the ground. “Let’s see what’s underneath all this deerskin.” His voice had changed, running into her ears like melted ice. Even his form changed, sharpened, so that now she could see the arrogant planes of his face, the cruel cast to his mouth.
    Jinxflinger , she wanted to say, but couldn’t.
    Skips Stones stirred on her low bed. Willo stroked her forehead, soothing her, and she drifted back into sleep.
    It had grown dark inside the lodge, as if a shadow of evil had fallen over them, though Han knew it was only evening coming on. Dancer kindled the lamps next to the sleeping bench, and they settled back for the finish of the story.
    “He tried to kill me, after,” Willo said. “But the Demonai arrived, and he had to flee. When he yanked his ring from my finger, I drew my belt dagger and slashed his hand.” She demonstrated, drawing her fingers across her palm. “He dropped the ring and fled.”
    “The Demonai never found him?” Han said.
    Willo shook her head. “Despite their famous tracking skills, they lost him almost immediately, as if he had been swallowed up by the earth. I assumed he used wizardry to escape. I never told the Demonai that my attacker was a wizard. I never showed them the ring. I hoped to put it behind me, to find a way to forget.
    “When I found out I was expecting his child, I considered killing myself. But I refused to finish the work that that snake of a wizard had begun.” She smiled at Dancer. “And then, after you were born, I realized how lucky I was to have you. I prayed, though, that you would not be gifted, because I knew you would have no place in the world.”
    “Did you know who Bayar was?” Han asked, his voice low and hoarse. “That he was the High Wizard?”
    Willo shook her head. “He wasn’t at the time. I didn’t know any wizards, anyway. Several years later, after I became matriarch, I attended a wedding down in the city. When I spotted Bayar across a ballroom, my heart nearly stopped. He’d just been chosen High Wizard. I knew he might recognize me too, and ask questions and put it all together.”
    Willo extended her legs, her moccasins poking out from under her skirt. “And so I left. It was either that or stab him to death on the spot.” She looked up. “Now I wish I had. Because, ever since that day, I’ve questioned my own judgment. I’d thought I was safe on Hanalea. I thought I could