The Shadowed Path by Gail Z. Martin Page A

could not make himself turn away. Tucker was a good master and he paid Jonmarc his promised wage, but there had been weeks when business was bad enough that they had all gotten by on cabbage and leeks and a few rabbits poached from the king’s forest. “Then I pay you,” the man replied. “Handsomely.”
    “You’ve got a deal,” Jonmarc said. The stranger came closer, and Jonmarc’s horse shied. The man held out a folded piece of parchment.
    “These are the directions. Show them to no one else. They are spelled for your eyes alone.”
    Jonmarc’s suspicion that the stranger was a mage deepened. “How will I find you?”
    “I’ll find you,” the man said. “In three days, I’ll come for the talisman at twelfth bells. Have it ready. I will be most unhappy if you do not have it for me when I arrive.” He gave an unpleasant smile, and this time, Jonmarc was certain it was to make sure he saw the vayash moru’s fangs.
    “Understood,” Jonmarc replied, but his gut clenched. Sweet Mother and Childe! What have I gotten myself into?
    Jonmarc blinked, and the stranger was gone. He shivered, but it had nothing to do with the evening chill. He snapped the reins and sent the horse into a fast trot, and only his pride and the certainty that the dark stranger was watching from the shadows kept him from a full gallop.
    S HANNA WAS WAITING for him when he came in from putting the wagon away and seeing to the horse. “I was beginning to worry,” she said, smiling. “There’s some stew left in the pot. I kept it warm for you.” Her dark blonde hair was tied back with a bit of cloth, and her cheeks were pink from the warmth of the cooking fire. One hand fell to her swollen belly, and she smiled. “I felt the baby kick again. He’s going to be a fine blacksmith, I wager!”
Jonmarc wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, and touched her belly gently. “Or a fine hedge witch like her mother and grandmother,” he murmured.
    Shanna chuckled and helped him out of his coat. “We’ll have to wait and see now, won’t we?” Her smile faded as she watched him. “Did something go wrong? Didn’t you get the coin the caravan master promised?”
    Jonmarc ladled some stew into a bowl and sat down at the table, ripping off a chunk of bread from the loaf that lay in the center. “Linton always keeps his word. He paid everything he said he would.” He took out a pouch of coins and laid them on the table. “I’ll take them to Tuck in the morning.”
    Shanna came to sit on the opposite side of the table. “What about the bits from the cave?”
    Jonmarc withdrew a second pouch and dropped it onto the wood so that the coins jangled. “Twenty coppers. Not bad for odd rubbish just moldering in the cliffside.”
    Shanna made the sign of the Lady in warding. “You know how I feel about you going into the caves. There’s a reason they’re forbidden. They’re haunted.”
    Jonmarc finished his bite of bread and stew before he answered. “I’m more afraid of the living than the dead,” he said. “We’ll have a new mouth to feed, and the caravan’s moving on. No telling when we’ll get more customers. I’ve got to make what I can while I can. I’d rather not eat cabbage for every meal.”
    Shanna reached out to touch his hand. “You have something else on your mind.” Her brown eyes seemed to see right through him, and he sighed.
    “I met a buyer on the road, coming home from Linton’s,” he said. “He wants something from the caves—and he’ll pay gold.”
    Shanna’s eyes narrowed. “Gold? For odd bits from old graves of people everyone’s long forgotten?” She shook her head. “There’s something wrong.”
    “Maybe you’re right,” he said, setting his empty bowl aside. “But I already agreed to the deal. A couple of gold coins will feed us all for a long time—Tuck’s family, too, if need be.”
    “And how will you explain where you came by gold?” Shanna challenged. “Someone will say you