“He wandered off somewhere hereabouts. We’ll find him.” Zev veered toward a merchant stall selling capes and cloaks. He riffled through them, frowning thoughtfully. “See anything you like?”
“Hmm.” Dyna lifted a capelet about her size, but her thoughts drifted to Cassiel. She searched for him in the crowd. Why would he wander off when he had been in a hurry to seek lodging?
Her gaze drew to another stall draped in a black canopy. From its bearings hung dried herbs, crystals, and clinking glass chimes. An old woman sat behind the counter. She was pale and wrinkly as a dried date. Deep purple robes enveloped her small hunched frame. She wore a matching turban over her white hair and a dirty sash tied over her eyes. The old woman must be blind but appeared to look right at Dyna, as she beckoned her forth with a knobby finger.
Under thrall, Dyna crossed the street to her.
“Good evening, deary,” the old woman said. She spoke with the Azure accent but underneath, lingered the faint hint of another. “May I interest you in a charm for luck, or perhaps a potion to capture the heart of your unrequited love? I have amulets, enchanted baubles, and the like.”
On the counter were neat rows of glass jars containing shimmering powders and bubbling liquids. In bowls, she had desiccated newts, ground-up beetles, and foul-smelling herbs. Followed by baskets of polished bone carved in the shape of people, and flat stones painted red with curses. These were the wares of a witch.
Dyna took a step back. “Oh, um, no thank you, madam.”
“Nothing to your liking? What are you seeking on this fine day? I have a great many things, some too dreadful or too rare to leave out on display. Who knows, I may have what you desire.”
Dyna gave the question some consideration. The mention of rare items surfaced a thought. “Do you perhaps have Stardust?”
The woman’s lips thinned. “I don’t sell mage magic, deary. Stardust is much too costly to acquire and I am but a poor, poor gypsy.”
The sun caught on the edge of a pendant that peeked out from a fold of her robes, glinting on what looked to be a diamond. Somehow, she must have sensed Dyna looking because she quickly tucked it away.
The old woman held open a wrinkly palm, long yellowed nails curling at the end of her fingers. “For a russet, I’ll read your fortune. Yours seems to be an interesting one.”
Dyna hesitated but she wanted to know what the woman may see in her future that was so uncertain. She took her hand. The moment they touched a zap clashed against her Essence. It was the same sensation she felt when Dalton had grabbed her.
The old woman inhaled a sharp breath. Her wrinkly face creased with shock, her mouth falling open. She reached up and pulled down the sash to reveal a stunning pair of eyes the color of lilac petals.
A realization washed through Dyna’s mind. The old woman was not a witch at all. The meeting of their Essence and the unique eye color revealed one unquestionable fact: the old woman was a sorceress.
They gawked at each other in silence. Dyna could hardly believe it. Mages were one thing but seeing a sorceress outside of the Magos Empire was incredible. Impossible even, yet here she was.
Dyna wanted to embrace the old woman and tell her she knew of the dreadful ways practiced in Magos. But she only managed one breathless word, “Oh …”
Zev approached the stall. “What are you doing, Dyna? I told you to stay close.”
The old woman gasped and leaned back as she took in his size and many scars. Her eyes lingered on his muscular arms and broad chest before rising to his face.
He scratched at the stubble on his cheek, unnerved by her stare. “Um, we should go.”
“She was reading my fortune,” Dyna said. “For a russet, she’ll read yours too. Go on.”
He too hesitated then held out his hand. The old woman tentatively reached out. She tapped his fingertip and immediately recoiled as if it had burned her.
“What did you see?” he asked warily.
Her vivid, wide eyes bounced between them. Had she sensed what he was?
Cassiel appeared beside them and glared at the wares, pulling Dyna back. “Nothing good will come in any dealings with a witch.”
“She’s not a witch.”
He frowned at her, but then did a double-take. Whatever he was going to say was forgotten, his gaze slowly traveling down her dress then back up.
The old woman smirked. “My, aren’t you a pompous lord.” She snatched his hand and the color drained from her face. “God of Urn.”
Cassiel ripped his hand away, wiping it on his coat in disgust. He scowled at the others. “Stop dallying. Let’s go before the taverns are full.” He stalked away into the throng.
Zev placed two copper coins on the counter. He turned to leave when the old woman grabbed Dyna’s wrist and wiggled her fingers over her. An electric tickle sprouted from her scalp and floated to her toes with a shudder.
