Chapter 18
Stepping through the stable yard, Ian stopped to give Rowena a long scratch up and down her nose. “Not today, beautiful girl,” he said. “I cannot go riding into the capital city on the most recognizable mount in the kingdom. I have to keep my disguise for now.”
Rowena nudged his shoulder with her head.
“I will give you a long ride tomorrow,” Ian said.
He continued on into the stable, where Jette helped him saddle and mount the nondescript brown horse he had borrowed from Robin previously.
One thing had become abundantly clear as he’d reviewed the accounts with Bernard two days prior. Ilida’s stress about the lack of gold at Lockwood was entirely well-founded.
The moneylending program had survived for a time, but Robin’s big heart had stretched it far too thin.
She needed to learn how to retain some of the coin for Lockwood itself.
Perhaps build a larger forge, or a water-powered mill.
Anything that would allow them to produce resources at a larger scale, resources that would be valuable enough to trade to other cities that did not have easy access to such things.
Then, she could take the gold she produced within Lockwood itself and help as many people as she pleased.
The road to Berwell was quite empty, but as he turned onto the larger route that led to the capital city, Ian lifted the hood of his cloak to hide his face from other travelers.
Fortunately the thick wool served to both keep him warm and help to cool him from the glare of the sun, as it did for the rest of his ride.
Having learned from Robin about how to avoid notice, Ian left his horse at a sorry-looking stable on the outskirts of the city. He made his way through the capital on foot, avoiding the main streets, until he arrived at a familiar shop just down the street from the castle.
Pushing open the door, he stepped into a comfortable room filled with bolts of fabric and spindles of thread. Mistress Cedrice, the seamstress and proprietor, was attending to a wealthy middle-aged woman at the back of the shop.
Fortunately, Ian did not recognize the woman, but he turned quickly to inspect a bolt of fabric leaning against the wall to keep his face hidden.
“These adjustments will work wonders, my lady,” Mistress Cedrice was saying. “No one will notice that it is even the same dress. I promise you it will look entirely new.”
“Thank you,” the woman responded. “I knew you would be able to save me some coin. You are so skilled with a needle.”
“You are quite welcome, my dear,” Mistress Cedrice responded. “Everyone is asking for similar things these days.”
Ian waited for a few more minutes as the women continued to discuss the details of the dress and payment, until finally the other customer left the store.
He listened for the sound of the door fully closing, waiting to turn around and reveal himself.
“How can I serve you, Your Highness?” Mistress Cedrice spoke quietly, but her voice came from directly behind him.
Ian spun around. “How did you know?” he asked.
“I have fitted jackets and vests on those shoulders many a time,” the older woman said with a smile. “Follow.” She led the way to a small door on the back wall, inviting him into her home behind the storefront.
Ian followed her through the doorway to where Ashlin was bent over a large table, carefully cutting through a large piece of green fabric.
She looked up as they entered the room, and her face melted into a beautiful smile as soon as she saw him.
She set down her scissors, running the two steps that separated them to greet him with a hug. “We have been so worried!” she said.
Ian squeezed her tight, needing to know that at least one member of his family was safe. “I am safe,” he said. “But how are you? My father?”
Ashlin stepped back so she could see his face. “Nothing has changed,” she said. “His leg is quite angry, but at least the wounds have not made an infection.” She dropped her voice. “He has not woken.”
Ian nodded, a lump forming in his throat, though the news was exactly what he had expected.
“Let us discuss these things over tea,” Mistress Cedrice said, leading the way up a small wooden staircase.
Ian followed Ashlin up the steps and mirrored her actions, seating himself across from her at a low table near an open fire.
Mistress Cedrice moved about her kitchen preparing tea.
“Have you been going back and forth to the castle?” Ian asked Ashlin. “Is it safe to do so?”
“Oh, yes,” Ashlin replied, reaching for the small clay cups at the center of the table and arranging them around a clay teapot. “So many people come and go daily that I can easily blend in.”
“Does Gareth know who you are?” Ian asked. “If he knows your connection to Onric, you may be in danger.”
Ashlin shook her head. “Onric and I avoid speaking to each other at the castle. I keep to the old tower room while working on the tapestry, or slip in to sit with your father.”
“That is a part of why I am here,” Ian said.
Mistress Cedrice pulled an iron kettle from its place over the fire and used it to pour hot water into the brown clay teapot. After replacing the kettle over the fire, she joined them at the table.
“Has there been any progress on the tapestry?” Ian asked.
Ashlin shook her head again. “No, we have not found a way to put harmony magic back into the needle. Aizel tried to refill it. But she does not know the original story the tapestry was trying to tell. So her magic is too weak to guide my stitches.”
Mistress Cedrice dropped a pinch of dried tea leaves into the steaming teapot, and a delicate smoky aroma filled the air.
Ian looked to Mistress Cedrice. “I am sure you have already spoken of this, but even you, with your Majis ancestry—do you know enough of the history to help in this matter?”
The older woman stared off into the distance, a sad disconnect in her eyes.
“No,” she finally replied. “The only knowledge I have of magic and my people comes from whispered tales and nonsense sayings passed down by the women before me. Having grown up on Istroya, Aizel has a much deeper knowledge of those topics than I do.”
“I am sorry that was lost to you,” Ian said, sensing her pain but unable to offer any true balm.
“It was not you who took it from me,” Mistress Cedrice replied. Focusing her attention on the steeped tea, she moved through the calming motions of pouring a cup for each of them.
Ian accepted the small cup from her, wrapping his large hands around the warm clay. The spherical container had no handle, making it easy to hold. Relishing the warmth, Ian let it relax him for a moment before bringing his attention back to the matter at hand.
“There is something else,” Ashlin said. The confidence had faded from her voice, and she sounded hesitant.
Ian looked over to her, alarmed.
She held her own teacup in her hands, but her eyes were looking past it, staring at the table. “Gareth has been asking about the tapestry. It was on display in the great hall, the night of your ball. He has been hounding Onric to let him see it. Onric tried to hold him off . . .”
“So he has seen the tapestry?” Ian asked. “Has he said anything about it?”
Ashlin shook her head. “He has come up to study it. He was particularly interested in the panels that show the Majis as powerful sorcerers. Or, I suppose we know now that those would be chaos wielders, not Majis. The story there is still muddled.”
“I do not know what that means,” Ian said, “but I cannot imagine it is good.” He caught Ashlin’s eye. “Stay out of his sight. Do not let him know your connection to the tapestry itself.”
Ashlin nodded. “I was not there when Onric brought him up. And Onric always confirms that Gareth is elsewhere in the castle before I work on it.”
Ian nodded. “Good.” He did not need to doubt that Onric was seeing to Ashlin’s safety—and to everyone else’s, to the best of his ability.
“Would you mind if I borrowed the needle for a while? I might be able to find someone in Robin’s community who has more knowledge than we do.
” He refrained from mentioning that the community he was referring to was a community of Majis.
While he was sure Ashlin could be trusted with that information, it was not his to share.
He had no need to worry, however, as Ashlin with her trusting nature did not even question why Robin’s community might know more than Aizel or Mistress Cedrice. “Of course,” she said. “But it is at the castle. How shall I get it to you?”
“I will arrange for that,” Ian said. “But I also have something else I would like you to get for me from the castle. Onric can help you find it.”