Chapter 2
Two
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Lose our most valuable customer. All over soap. I know we had the lilac. Where is it? The baroness will be so mad …
Sadie wanted to scream as the repetitive thoughts swirled around her.
Under normal circumstances, Mr. Ferman was too contained a person for much of the inner workings of his mind to make it beyond his natural barriers, but today, agitation lowered those barriers.
Ever since Sadie had returned to the shop after her lunch break, his thoughts had been a muddle about soap, Marstede Manor, and dire predictions about the inevitable failure of his shop.
All because he couldn’t find a bar of lilac soap.
Another repeat of his unproductive thoughts was apt to send Sadie screaming.
Mr. Ferman hadn’t said anything to her about the soap, though, so she couldn’t very well walk up to him and say the missing bar was in the trunk in the back corner because Mrs. Ferman had thought it might help eliminate the musty smell.
But she needed his mind to calm down.
Sadie also needed this shop to stay open, and while she didn’t think failing to produce a bar of soap for the local nobility would really force Ferman’s Exotic Goods to shutter its doors, it wasn’t a risk she was willing to take, either.
Working in the fine goods store was a far cry from her dream of owning a potion shop, but it was the best job she’d managed to secure in years. Making potions for a living wasn’t actually an option, so she needed this store to succeed.
When Mr. Ferman was looking away, Sadie licked her thumb and traced the glyph hidden on the back side of the amulet she wore at her throat. Magic trickled through the smooth agate, and Mr. Ferman’s thoughts became a low hum she could more easily ignore. It wouldn’t last long.
Sadie’s magical affinity was for water, not earth, and she couldn’t coax magic into the stone at her neck in great enough amounts to actually cut off her power. Nor had she ever developed a potion that accomplished the same result as her amulet.
In the minutes before the magic wore off, though, she could finally think clearly.
She had to find an excuse to bring the bar of soap to her employer’s attention without making him wonder how she knew he wanted it. It was exactly the type of foolish risk she had taken in the last place she had lived, which had resulted in her losing yet another home.
No one wanted a telepath in their midst.
But if she didn’t do something soon, she was just as likely to give herself away by shouting at Mr. Ferman. Why was it that her erratic power always kicked in at times like this?
Sadie moved around the shop, looking for a reason that had nothing to do with magic to grab the lilac soap.
The wide windows flanking the door let in enough light to make the space cheery and bright.
Rather than rows of shelves, Mr. Ferman had dotted the room with circular tables, each waxed and polished to a high shine.
A selection of expensive goods was displayed on every table.
Sadie studied the table with scented soaps and had an idea.
Moving to the trunk in the back corner, she cracked open the lid and fished around until her fingers hit the rectangle of soap, wrapped in paper and tied with a bit of twine.
She pulled it out and dared a sniff. No use finding the soap if it smelled as musty as the chest had when it was first brought in.
Mrs. Ferman must have been right that the lilac could overpower the other scents, though, for all she smelled was spring flowers.
Delicate, yet diffuse. Sadie carried the bar over to the table that held the rest of their fine soaps and rearranged.
She placed the two bars of rose-water soap in the center, with a bar of lavender on the left, and added the lilac to the right.
Mr. Ferman saw her and stalked over, his stride more powerful than his lanky frame suggested was possible. The magic she had infused in her amulet remained enough to muffle his thoughts, but his expression was thunderous. “Why are you messing with the soaps, Miss Winsel? Are you stealing from me?”
“What?” She stepped back, holding her hands out to show they were empty. “Of course not, Mr. Ferman. I was just rearranging the soaps. I thought the display would look better with a little symmetry, so I added the lilac soap.”
She wished she could tell him that even if she had been taking a bar of soap, it was justified after all the times he had made her work late without paying her for the extra time.
But not only would such a comment get her fired, it was also the exact sort of impulsive comment she had to suppress to hide her magic.
Talking back at Mr. Ferman wouldn’t betray her, but such a habit of free speaking would quickly lead to a mistake.
Sadie had finally mastered that lesson three homes ago.
These days she kept her head down and her lips closed as much as possible.
“The lilac soap!” Mr. Ferman snatched the bar, then looked at the door, as if the baroness would walk through right that moment. Then he turned and faced her.
Sadie had the sinking suspicion that, like always, trying to help someone because of what she heard with her magic was ultimately going to make things worse for her.
“Miss Winsel, I need you to deliver this soap to Marstede Manor.”
“Marstede?” she repeated. She wasn’t sure why his request took her so off guard. She knew the soap was for the dowager baroness.
“Yes. Now.”
“But it’s nearly closing time.”
“Exactly. The soap must be delivered tonight. The baroness will be most displeased otherwise.”
Mr. Ferman had already sent the baroness—or, more likely, her servant—away without the soap.
She wouldn’t be expecting it at all. But it wasn’t worth Sadie’s job to say that to her employer.
She’d risked enough simply by pointing out the time.
She needed this job. The only other establishment in Lamsdel that would hire her was the local tavern, and drunks and telepaths were never a good combination.
She bit back another objection and accepted the bar of soap, slipping it into the pocket of her work dress.
She’d have to be extra careful on the walk not to snag or stain it, for Mr. Ferman certainly wouldn’t pay for her to replace the expensive frock, even while insisting she wear something that fit the quality of his shop.
The bell over the front door tinkled merrily, in direct contrast to Sadie’s mood as she left.
She turned left out of the fine goods shop, aware Mr. Ferman was watching her through the front windows.
She didn’t continue all the way down the road that eventually led to the local baron’s estate, though.
As soon as she was out of view, she slipped down an alley and snuck back to the tavern on the other side of Ferman’s Exotic Goods.
The walk would take at least an hour. Plus another hour back. Sadie was damn well going to buy supper to eat on the way first.
She entered the common room from the back door and waited.
It wasn’t quite the busiest time of the evening in the tavern, but the tables were filling quickly.
The tavern-keeper’s oldest daughter dashed back and forth, laughing with customers and delivering drinks.
Finally she slowed, facing the back of the room, and Sadie stepped out of the shadows.
Pippa saw her and hurried over, wiping her hands on her apron as she moved. “What are you doing here? The shop isn’t closed yet, is it? Mr. Ferman didn’t fire you, did he? If he did, I’ll—”
Sadie placed her hand on Pippa’s forearm, cutting her off. “He didn’t fire me. But I wanted to warn you that I will be home late tonight. Also, I need something I can eat on the go.”
“Late? On the go? What are you talking about?” I wish she didn’t always speak in riddles.
Pippa’s thoughts tore through Sadie’s mind.
The amulet had run out of power again. She reached up and gripped it.
Her thumb traced over the glyph on the back, but without any water, her efforts accomplished even less than before.
Still, as long as she kept tracing the glyph, ambient magic would flow into it in a sluggish wave.
“Mr. Ferman needs me to deliver a bar of soap to Marstede Manor. I have to walk there now.”
Pippa crossed her arms and tried to look down her nose at Sadie, though she was the shorter one by a few inches. “I don’t suppose he’s paying you extra?”
“Of course not, and he’ll probably dock my wages if he catches me dallying here.”
“I don’t understand how you can prefer working for him to joining me in the tavern.”
“Mr. Ferman is frustrating, but I like being in a shop, Pip. We’ve been over this.
” Countless times. But since Sadie had never told Pippa the true reason she refused to work in the tavern, they were bound to have the conversation plenty more in the future.
Sadie’s insistence that she loved working in a shop simply wasn’t convincing.
She meant it, however, when she said that she cared more about where she worked than who her employer was.
She could deal with people like Mr. Ferman, but being in a tavern for hours would be too much to handle.
Sadie’s power skimmed surface thoughts, the ones clamoring to be spoken aloud.
The more closely guarded a thought was, the less chance she had of accidentally hearing it.
Thoughts loosened with alcohol. Without a new charm, she’d be inundated with people’s thoughts all night at the tavern.
Sooner rather than later, she’d slip up and respond to something thought and not said.
Once that happened, and her secret was out, things always deteriorated in one of two ways.
Either people began to avoid her, or a mob formed.
Sadly, she had reason to know she preferred the mob, for at least then it was immediately clear she had to leave.
She always tried to fool herself that people would adjust if she gave them a chance when they didn’t confront her directly.
But once every room emptied if she stepped inside, it was over.
Shops wouldn’t sell to her when she drove away other business, even if the proprietors might have otherwise let greed outweigh their fear in short bursts.
Pippa would never understand the fears holding Sadie back. And Sadie was no longer young and foolish enough that she’d try to share them. “Please, Pippa. Can you get me a pasty to eat on the way? If I don’t leave soon, I’ll be stuck walking home in the dark.”
“You shouldn’t be traveling alone through the woods so late, even if the sun won’t set for a few more hours. You’ve heard the stories.”
Since Pippa relished repeating the tales told over tankards about spirits haunting the Gloaming Forest, Sadie had heard more than enough of the stories.
She sighed. “Pippa, I’m not going to avoid the forest because a few drunk men thought stories of demons might scare you into their laps. I mean, really, demons?”
She wasn’t worried about the forest. Since moving to Lamsdel, she had heard enough tales to conclude that people wanted the forest to be haunted because it made their pastoral village more interesting. They looked for excuses to shriek about evil spirits, then relished the attention it brought.
Pippa tugged on her blond braid, the corner of her mouth lifting.
“Well, Charles was probably exaggerating about the demon, though it did make for a fun evening letting him think I was terrified.” She sobered quickly.
“But that doesn’t mean the woods aren’t haunted.
And your amulet won’t protect you, Sadie. ”
Her friend knew the charm had been carved by Sadie’s grandmother and no longer retained power. Of course, Pippa thought the common warding glyph etched on the front of the agate was the only one and that Sadie continued to wear the stone on a ribbon at her throat for sentimental reasons.
“If you are so worried, then help me get some food so I can be on my way before night falls.”
“Fine,” Pippa grumbled, moving into the kitchen.
While Sadie waited for her, she licked her thumb and traced the glyph on her amulet once more.
Today was apparently one of those days when her uncontrollable magic asserted itself.
Sometimes Sadie went hours alone in her own mind without using her amulet at all.
Other times, like now, she couldn’t go two breaths without invading someone’s privacy.
If her affinity had been for earth, she could have made a new charm, one that wouldn’t need to be coaxed into drawing magic constantly.
If the hidden glyph hadn’t come from a forbidden grimoire, she could have asked any witch with an earth affinity to make a new one.
But no witch worth their salt would inscribe an unknown glyph.
Pippa returned, thrusting a bundle wrapped in calico at Sadie. There was more than a single pasty inside, but she didn’t unfold the fabric to look. “Thank you, Pip.”
Pippa didn’t release her hold on the bundle, preventing Sadie from leaving. “We are talking about this more when you get back. You can’t keep letting Mr. Ferman take advantage of you like this.”
“Don’t worry, I never assumed you were done arguing. But later. Please?”
Pippa released the bundle of food, and though Sadie had increased the magic flowing into her amulet, Pippa’s next thought washed over her all the same, the sentiment too strong to be held back by such weak power.
She needs to learn to stand up for herself.