Their first stop was a doorway, where a cat lounged with the air of one who owned the place. Its fur was patchy in spots, its eyes bright and shrewd. When a child tried to grab it, it slid out of reach with ease and swatted the air in warning.
“That one.” Emma pointed at it.
“Me Lady, that one willnae be owned by anyone,” Jenny murmured.
“We will see.”
A couple stood near the cat, the wife with her arms folded, the husband trying to fix a loose hinge on the door.
“Good afternoon,” Emma greeted, stopping at a polite distance.
They started for a brief second before they bowed in their own way, the wife dipping her head and the husband nearly dropping his hammer.
“I wondered,” Emma said, nodding toward the cat, “if you might be willing to part with your… guardian.”
The wife glanced at the animal. “The cat?”
Emma nodded, a smile on her face. “Yes. You will be rewarded handsomely for it.”
“‘Tis a stubborn cat, me Lady. It would be of nay use to ye,” the husband cautioned, his grip tightening on his hammer.
“We shall see,” Emma murmured.
A brief silence settled between them as the wife leaned closer to her husband and whispered in his ear. She was not nearly as quiet as she thought.
“Maybe she wants it for dark magic. The English are always up to stuff.”
The husband went scarlet. “What?”
Emma laughed. “You do not have to worry about that.”
The husband gave her a most apologetic look. “Forgive her, me Lady. She means nay?—”
“It is fine,” Emma cut in, too sweetly. “I only want to ease your burden. He looks like he has many opinions.”
The cat chose that moment to rub against her dress, purring with open satisfaction.
The wife stared as if she had just seen a spell. “Well, if he is daft enough to follow ye, he is yer problem.”
Emma bent, scooped the cat up like a prize, and settled it in the crook of her arm. It glared at the world over her elbow as if daring anyone to question this new arrangement.
“Thank you,” she said. “You can come to the castle later, and your reward will be handed to you.”
The husband stammered something along the line of “Ye are welcome,” and the wife stared on, like this was a dream.
“This is already a problem,” Jenny muttered under her breath
“Onward,” Emma intoned.
They reached the market stalls as the afternoon progressed. Emma’s eyes landed on a hen tied to a post. She stepped toward it, and the seller narrowed his eyes at her.
“Me Lady,” he greeted. “How can I help ye?”
She tilted her head and pointed to the hen. “Does she have a name?”
“Aye. Useless.”
Emma laughed. “Really?”
