Micah or the end of Magic. Chapter 6.

 

Chapter 6.

 

Second Sight.

 

Early the next morning, Micah set out again. He walked for a long time without seeing a single person. Hungry and tired, he sat down on a handy milestone to rest.

In the distance he heard the faint jingling of a horse’s harness. Before long, a brightly painted wagon came along the road and stopped beside him.

“Good morning,” called the driver. “Not many people about today.”

“Good morning to you too,” Micah replied. “You’re the first traveller I’ve seen for days.”

“And the villages and farms are empty as well,” the man said. “My wife and I usually pick up work along this road.”

“The Witch of the Dark Forest has forced everyone to leave and go to King Rolan’s palace,” Micah told him. “Anyone who argued was killed by one of her wraiths.”

“That makes life difficult,” the man said.

“Very,” Micah agreed. “I don’t suppose you have any food to spare? I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning. I can pay.”

“No problem,” said the man, jumping down from the wagon. “We can spare you a crust or two. And this is as good a place as any to let the horse rest. My name is Josiah Lee.”

“Micah Small,” Micah said, shaking his hand.

A woman appeared from the back of the wagon.

“This is my wife, Grace,” Josiah said.

She smiled but said nothing.

Josiah unpacked a small stove from the wagon, filled it with twigs, and soon had a fire going. A kettle went on top, and before long steam was rising from the spout.

The “crust or two” turned out to be rabbit stew, warmed on the stove and washed down with a hot drink. Micah’s protests that he could not pay were waved away.

“I’ve been in need of help myself,” Josiah said. “I usually get work at the farms along here, fence mending in winter, sheep shearing in spring, harvesting. Whatever needs doing. What about you?”

“I come from Sowton,” Micah said. “So the only animal I know anything about is the pig, and I never want to see another one.”

Josiah laughed. “Grace here does fortune‑telling. She could probably tell you what you should do to earn your daily bread.”

“Fortune‑telling?” Micah looked puzzled.

Grace smiled. “Not really. I have what some call ‘second sight.’ I can look at a person or an object and tell you things about them. People pay me to tell them what they already know, if they thought about it.”

“Magic?” Micah asked.

Grace shook her head. “No. At least, I don’t think so.”

“I can find out,” Micah said. “People who use magic can’t touch the box in my pack.”

“Interesting,” Grace said. “I’ve always wondered if my ability was magic.”

Micah took out the box and handed it to her. She turned it over in her hands.

“It doesn’t hurt you?” Micah asked.

“No, not in the least.”

“Then your second sight isn’t magic,” Micah said, reaching for the box.

But Grace didn’t hand it back immediately. She examined it closely.

“Do you know what this box is made from?” she asked.

Micah shook his head. “No. Why?”

Grace handed it back. “Dragon skin,” she said. “I’ve never seen anything made from dragon skin before. And it’s very, very old.”

“Dragon skin?” Micah squeaked.

Grace nodded. “If you let me hold it again, I can tell you more.”

Micah handed it over.

Grace closed her eyes. “This was made from the chest of a very old and sick dragon. He was killed long ago by a man called George.” She shuddered and returned the box. “That’s all I can tell you, except that it’s extremely rare and probably very valuable.”

“Oh,” Micah said. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s not something I’d want to own,” Grace said. “Dragons might not be pleased to find a piece of one of their kind made into a box.”

Micah hesitated, then opened the box. The jewel glowed faintly red, then faded.

“What can you tell me about this?” he asked.

Grace stepped back. “That is the evilest thing I have ever seen. Please put it away.”

Micah closed the Dragon Box. “I didn’t know it was evil.”

Grace touched his face gently, frowning. “You are the first person I’ve ever met whom I cannot scry.”

“Scry?” Micah asked.

“That’s what it’s called when I use my second sight,” Grace said. “But when I tried with you, I got nothing. You’re invisible.”

“Be that as it may,” Josiah said, “we can’t stand here all day. We need to reach Wilford before nightfall. Even if it’s empty like the others, it’ll be safer than camping by the road. You’re welcome to travel with us.”

Wilford was as empty as the other villages. Once again, Micah had to use the jewel to remove the spell before they could enter. Unlike the other villages, Wilford had narrow, twisting streets. They left the wagon and explored on foot.

At the top of one alley they found a set of pillories. Josiah laughed. “Travellers like me used to be put in these just for being different. King Rolan put a stop to that.”

Pinned to the pillory was a note. Micah picked it up. “There was a note like this in the other villages.”

“What does it say?” Josiah asked.

“No idea,” Micah said, handing it to Grace.

“We can’t read either,” she admitted.

“I wonder why Calizone is doing this,” Micah said.

Grace frowned. “This note wasn’t written by Calizone. The name I get from it is Magalan.”

“So, who is Magalan?” Micah asked.

Josiah and Grace both shook their heads.

“Never heard the name,” Grace said. “But she wrote this note.”

Micah put it back where he found it.

“I think we’d better see what Calizone has to say about someone else claiming to be the Witch of the Dark Forest,” Josiah said. “The road through the forest starts a couple of miles from here. But first we need somewhere to spend the night. There’s a decent inn on the main road.”

The inn was locked. Josiah winked at Micah and produced a set of tools. After a few seconds of fiddling, the door swung open.

“You didn’t see that,” he said.

The oven was cold, but there was stale bread and a large cheese wheel in the larder. The beer must have been brewed recently, because it was still drinkable.

Early the next morning, they set off for Calizone’s cottage. Micah insisted on paying for the food, drink, and beds.