The knight and the princess woke up to the shining walls of Silverwall in the morning once again. Sleeping on the ground the past few nights had done poorly for Eyan’s back wound which still caused discomfort, and Thea was made more than a little nervous by the decision to remain anonymous while in the middle of the city, but both slept deeply and well. They met downstairs, shared a breakfast, and went on their way to the caravan house. The caravan house was probably the tallest building outside of the city walls, three stories high. The first layer was made of stone while the second two were crafted out of wood, and were wider than the first floor so that there was an overhang supported by exterior pillars. To the side was a large depot with a series of fences and gates that guided carts and horses through no less than three separate stations where cargo could be weighed, counted, tested, and otherwise accounted for before being entered into the caravan house’s records and sent in to the city.

Stepping inside the caravan house, Thea and Eyan were greeted by a room draped floor to ceiling in exotic eccentricities. Everything from Trapanzan wine and Yazzan tapestries to the mounted heads of wild Hermaniian beasts adorned the walls. To even walk through without stepping on what might have been an ancient artifact or priceless furniture seemed impossible to Eyan, who slowed his pace as he walked up to the counter at the center of the room while Thea glided around effortlessly, admiring the oddities around them.

There was no one at the desk, but there was a brass bell suspended by a rope above the desk. Eyan tugged on it, ding...ding…

“Wait! Wait wait stop it wait hold on!” Eyan didn’t get a chance to ring it a third time before a trap door opened behind the counter and a disheveled, half-dressed dwarf exploded upward to cup his hands around the bell and silence it.

Eyan started to speak but was shushed by the dwarf, who put a grimy finger up to his lips and looked slowly around the room, scanning for something. Thirty seconds passed before he finally relaxed his shoulders, Eyan and Thea exhaled with relief.

“Do you always go ringin’ other people’s bells without askin’ or did you just become an idiot today?” the dwarf asked accusingly at Eyan, stroking bits of rubble and food out of his unkempt red beard. He had a crazy look in his eyes, one of them twitched when he spoke and the other seemed to rest deadly still in its socket.

“I suppose it’s just today.” Eyan replied, giving Thea a curious look from across the room. She returned with a look that said, What are you looking at me for? I’m just as confused.

“That, young lad, is a genie bell.” the dwarf paused, seeming to wait for a hit of recognition for Eyan. When there was none he continued, “Suffice it to say I’ve had enough genies summoned around me to last a wizard’s lifetime. So if you kindly would not ring my bells for me, I would thank you. Now, you must be the two passengers comin’ aboard the caravan to er…remind me again where was it?”

“Benold.”

“That’s right! Two passengers, no cargo. Not suspicious.”

“Why would two travelers going in the safety of a caravan be suspicious?” Thea asked.

“I just said it’s not, weren’t you listenin’? Now let me get my book out. My associate said you didn’t give him a name when you booked your passage, I just need somethin’ for the record and then I can send you on your way.” The dwarf opened a drawer and withdrew a massive book almost the size of him and slammed it on the table with a thud that shook colorful glass bottles on the other end of the counter nearly off the edge. He snapped his fingers and a quill appeared in his hand, then he looked up at Eyan and across at Thea.

The two exchanged a quick look and Eyan said, “Frederick” pointing at himself, “and Frederica, my sister.” pointing at Thea.

The dwarf scribbled a few lines into his book, snapped away the quill, and slammed the book shut with another thud. A red bottle fell onto the floor and shattered with a poof of red smoke, spilling red liquid onto the floorboards. “Curses! Look what you’ve done now!” the dwarf said, climbing over the counter with a rag. “Just go on, get out of here. The caravan with the green banner is yours, tell ‘em you checked in with me and you’ll be on your way.”

“And who are you, exactly?” Thea inquired. The dwarf stopped in his tracks, right on top of the counter.

“Where are my manners?” he stood up straight, “I am Merkin of Eyjafjaroarstrond in Hofslond, former traveling merchant and now proud proprietor of Merkin’s Static Emporium and Caravanssary!” As he finished his introduction and put his hands on his sides, his elbow hit the genie bell. The tinny ring became a loud, resounding vwoooooom, and green smoke started emerging from the bell. “Con-found it all! Get on out of here I’ll deal with this! Go on, get!”

Thea and Eyan rushed out of the building and toward the depot. In a matter of seconds, many colored lights crashing sounds came from the first floor of the caravan house. People on the street stopped and stared, hearing the dwarf shout “Get back in there! No, I don’t want to make a wish! Get back, you! Aargh!”

Eyan looked at Thea with shocked disbelief and horror. She said, “I’m sure he’ll be fine.” and pointed to a row of three wagons laden with boxes and sacks, the one up front hoisting a green banner. “There’s us.” The princess trotted off, and with a final glance at the now chaotic caravan house, Eyan followed.

A tall man wearing ruffled merchant robes walked along the wagons, checking over cargo, speaking with passengers, and making marks on a large scroll carried for him by a young assistant. When it wasn’t busy writing on the scroll, his hand hardly left his pointed goatee which he stroked like a purring cat. On either side of him were two tough-looking men in rough iron armor with no identifiable markings.

The bearded man met Frederick and Frederica at the back of the wagon train and introduced himself as Caravanier Thomas. They confirmed their spots, and Caravanier Thomas patted his hand on the side of the wagon. “This one here will be your ride, we’ve made space enough for the two of you to sit,” stroking his beard he looked at the torn breastplate, supply bag, and several weapons Eyan carried, “but you’ll need to hold your stuff. Didn’t book any cargo space.” With that, he flicked the scroll twice, and the young assistant rolled it up to stick into a leather case. Caravanier Thomas began to walk away, but turned around for a moment, turned his head down, maintaining eye contact and added, “And I hope I wouldn’t have to say this, but don’t get any bright ideas about that cargo you’ll be traveling with. Anything gets damaged or goes missing, we’ll know who was responsible.” With a self-satisfied snort he walked away. Eyan and Thea got into their spots, nestled in between a sack of potatoes and a frost-runed barrel that smelled slightly of fish with their legs dangling out the back of the wagon.

Caravanier Thomas shouted from the front of the train “Forward!” and very quickly they were on their way. For the first half mile or so out of Silverwall, the road was cobblestone, and the passengers in all three wagons were tossed about wildly, bumping into each other, the cargo, the walls of the wagons. More than a few times Eyan practically fell out the back trying to keep his stuff from jumping out, but soon the roads turned to packed dirt. Though the ride was hardly a sail across a calm lake, there wasn’t a fear of losing items to gravity.

“Have you thought about what you’ll do about your father?” Thea asked Eyan. The sun was high now, and Silverwall had gone from a glimmering speck on the horizon to nothing at all. For miles around them stretched softly rolling hills, a few farmsteads, and little bunches of trees where birds fluttered about.

“Some, yes.”

“Well tell me what you’ve come up with.” Eyan swallowed nervously, wondering if he should even say anything. He looked at her face, saw that she really expected something brilliant. He wasn’t confident in the plan, but he had come to learn that honesty was best with the princess.

“It involves...your father.” Thea was taken literally aback, sinking her head into the sack of potatoes.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am. Just hear me out.” Thea sat silently, squinting at the knight, but listening. Eyan continued in a hushed voice, “Once we get to Benold, we make the arrangements for the marriage, the land, the whole deal as is expected by our fathers, except with one crucial difference: I will take the land not as a member of my father’s house, but as my own lord. With that lordship, I am away from my father in Benold, and you from yours in Minhold. I can arrange to have...certain servants transported to the new castle, and I will make as many accommodations for you to have as much freedom as you want.”

Thea was silent for a few seconds, as if waiting for something to dawn on Eyan. When it didn’t dawn on him she said, “A brilliant plan, except for one thing: You can’t create a new house out of nothing. It has to be royally sanctioned. Is there some reason you think you could convince my father to do such a thing?”

“Perhaps as a favor to the man who saved his daughter from a dragon’s keep?”

Thea scoffed, “Hardly. If I know him, my father will expect my return and subsequent marriage to fortify his alliance with an already established house. A house with reputation and resources. If I understand correctly from what you have told me, the territory promised for my return is hardly enough to compete with the Houses Major. Snubbing Benold for the favor of some upstart lord doesn’t seem like the kind of politically keen maneuver he would make.”

Taking a second, Eyan thought about what Thea had told him about the King of Minhold. The suspicions he had had about the weakness of his plan were now confirmed. “Hold on,” he started suddenly, “didn’t you say you were to be married off to some minor lord in Norcastor? Norcastor is a hostile kingdom, what purpose could one friend there have served? Perhaps the king isn’t the political mind you make him out to be.”

“This may surprise you to learn, but my father didn’t share every detail of his plans with his fifteen year old daughter. All I know is that when I met the Count Varimi – my betrothed – he seemed to think it was quite the play. The slimy thing was practically giddy during the whole feast,” she smiled a bit, “until grandmother came, at least.”

“Maybe he was just an old monster eager to marry a young princess.”

“I think not. He all but completely ignored me. His interest was in my father. They spoke endlessly under their breaths, whispering deviously, smiling at themselves, at their cleverness. If you’d seen it, you’d know there was something more afoot. Frankly, I think the two were made for each other. Varimi was the only person I had ever met who even approximated the plotting, cruel nature of my father.”

“I’ll have to take your word on that, then. Give me some more time. I’ll keep thinking, and don’t be afraid to share any bright ideas of your own.”

“I certainly will. And thank you, sir knight.” Thea reached over and hugged Eyan, who was still grasping onto the bag on his lap. It made him miss Frederick and the embraces they would share, but Thea was comforting in her own way. Eyan realized how close he had come to feel over such a short period of time. For the first time ever, he felt he had a real friend. Not a lover, a paid tutor, a duplicitous bard, but a friend.

Three days passed on the caravan until they got the part of the route closest to Minhold. Every night, Caravanier Thomas and his assistant carrying the scroll would walk down the length of the caravan and double check its contents. When he did this he eyed Frederick and Frederica with immense suspicion. Occasionally during the days a military patrol would pass by, but they were left to their business. When the caravan was stopped to repair a broken axle, a few even stopped to help. It was Thea and Eyan’s wagon that broke, so they hopped out while Caravanier Thomas directed his two guards on how to replace the wheel. The men were simple, however, and had trouble lining the axle up properly. It took about three times of them putting it in between the spokes before the soldiers offered their help just to get them to stop blocking the road.

As they finished up, the soldiers mounted their horses to be off. One of them looked right at the princess, and for a second she thought she would have to make a break for it, but he moved on, apparently not recognizing the golden-haired girl. And how would he? Thea thought. It had been four years, and most common folk probably never knew she existed anyway. Nonetheless, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being hunted.

Seated and traveling once more, Thea tried to distract herself by finding colors. First was green. There was lots of green. The trees and grass for a start, but also the tunic of their wagon driver. There was some moss growing on rocks by a stream. There was some green in Eyan’s eyes, too, but they were mostly brown. Red. A few cardinals flew by, she spotted wild berries just off the road. Was her cloak red enough to count or was that just brown again? Blue. The sky was a big one. If she could find a mirror she knew she would see it in her own eyes. The soldiers of Minhold wore blue and gold, the colors of the royal city and her house. The frost runes on the fish barrel! Oh, but they were more of a gray. Hold on...she thought as she leaned closer, over Eyan’s shoulder.

“Excuse me.” Eyan said.

“Without looking, what color are the frost runes on the barrel?” Eyan began to turn his head, but Thea slapped it back forward. “Without looking!”

“What game are you playing at? I’ve never heard of this one before.”

“Just answer.”

With a sigh, he answered, “Blue. Bright blue like a sapphire. And shiny.”

“Now look and tell me why the runes are dull and gray.” Eyan looked behind and indeed the runes were far less blue and shiny than he would have sworn they were at the start of their journey.

“You’re the w-” he stopped and hushed himself, “You’re the witch here, you tell me.”

“I didn’t learn a lot about runes from my grandmother, but I know when they start to die, they look like that.”

“Okay? So? Runes wear off, what’s the big deal? We’re almost there anyway, it'll be fine.” Thea popped her head over the cargo to make sure no one was paying attention to them.

“The big deal is that that Caravanier doesn’t trust us at all, and is gonna think we tried to break into the barrel or something, which he will suspect because the fish is spoiled.”

“Spoiled?” Eyan took a breath and realized that where the runes had dimmed, the smell of fish had grown quite strong. “Almost, but not quite.”

“Exactly. I don’t want to take the chance that he inspects the cargo tonight and concludes that we tried to steal from him. He’ll send us off with the next patrol that happens by and our whole plan is down the chamber pot. They’ll throw us to the dungeon, or worse yet, to the castle.”

“Well what do you suggest? Some two-bit packer made a bad rune in Silverwall and we’re supposed to do what?” Eyan asked, panic beginning to creep into his voice.

“I can fortify the rune.”

“You said you promised not to use magic outside the keep. What about the witch hunters?”

“All magic is based on the flow of magical energy. Spells are simply a manifestation and manipulation of that flow. To create a rune, one has to draw the energy out, then channel it through a focus. That’s the rune.”

“Why the lesson? It doesn’t matter, you said no magic for your own protection, and I have to say I must agree.”

“The rune is already created, the flow is still present. All I’m doing is...opening it up a little, letting a bit more magic through to sustain the rune until we get to Benold. Witch hunters are looking for draws of energy, something like this should barely register.” Thea was only half sure about that last part, what the witch hunters were after. With her grandmother, casting new spells was always more dangerous than maintaining one.

Throughout the journey it had been difficult for Thea to hold back the magic. She felt a pull inside of her, like her spirit was telling her to use it freely as she had for the past several years. Shamefully, she admitted to herself that this whole fish barrel think was a subconscious excuse for her to feel the flow of energy at her fingertips again. The Caravanier was as likely to believe that a bad rune was cast as two common travelers were somehow able to disrupt it. But she kept it to herself.

Eyan sighed deeply, contemplating the risks. “Alright, how quickly can it be done?”

“Instantly, and I’ll be quiet.”

“Get on with it, then. Looks like no one else is on this stretch of road. Thea prepared herself, feeling almost giddy but not showing it. Even just this small moment would bring some measure of relief.

It all happened in a moment. Thea closed her eyes and reached out with her spirit. She envisioned the flow of magic: a river of colors striking its way through a void, going off further than she could see in either direction. She envisioned the rune on the barrel, a trickle of blue from the river that fed into the runic symbol. She reached out to the symbol, careful not to touch the flow, though she desperately wished to. Thea imagined gently grabbing the sides of the rune and tugging on it ever so slightly. The symbol grew in her vision, and the trickle of blue energy became a slender stream, elegantly filling up the capacity of the rune, fell out the other side of it and rejoined the river of colors to continue its flow. Her work was done, she had to go. But the river of colors remained.

It danced in her eyes, beckoning her forward. She reached a hand out, as it drew nearer she could begin to feel the warmth of it. It was a moment of weakness, of longing, she touched the tip of her finger to it. In that fraction of an instant she felt the river. It flowed under her fingertip like liquid silk, warm like a bed on a winter’s morning. It was all she could do to open her eyed. There was Sir Eyan, her rescuer and friend. The road they traveled behind them, the wagon on which they sat, firm beneath her.

“Looks like it worked.” Eyan said. “Good job.”

“Uh huh.” Thea replied, still reorienting herself and hoping that she had not just blown them disastrously off course.