Fool's Errand

When Hap glanced about to include me in the conversation, her eyes had already found me. She was regarding me with that expression parents usually reserve for possibly dangerous strangers. When I smiled and nodded to Hap's introduction and offered her good day, she visibly relaxed and her smile expanded to include me. She stepped closer as she did so, peering up at my face, and I realized her eyesight was not keen.

She had brought her wares to market, and spread her mat in the shadow of our cart. Hap helped her arrange her charms and potents, and the two of them made a merry day of our marketing after that, exchanging news since Springfest. I listened in as Hap told her of his apprenticeship plans. When he spoke to Ji

"Tom!" he protested, and I instantly perceived that in some way I had embarrassed him. Ji

"Yes?"

"See, I told you it would be fine with him," Hap crowed.

"Well, I do thank you, as long as you are sure it would be no trouble," Ji

I smiled and nodded as they conversed, but added little. Instead, I found myself studying her as Chade had taught me but I found nothing to suggest she was anything other than the hedge-witch she claimed to be.

Which is to say that I knew very little of her at all. Hedge-witches and — wizards are fairly common at any market, fair, or festival. Unlike the Skill, common folk attach no awe to hedge-magic. Unlike the Wit, it does not mark the practitioner for execution. Most folk seem to regard it with both tolerance and skepticism. Some of those who claim the magic are complete and unapologetic charlatans, j These are the ones who pull eggs from the ears of the gullible, tell fortunes of vast riches and lofty marriages for j milkmaids, sell love potions that are mostly lavender and j chamomile, and peddle luck charms made from dismembered rabbits. They are harmless enough, I suppose.

Ji

She did a fairly lively trade as the long morning ventured toward afternoon. Several times customers inquired about the covered charms, and at least three made purchases with good silver. If there was a magic to the gadgets she sold them, it was one that neither my Wit nor my Skill could detect. I caught a glimpse of one of the charms; it was an intricate assembly of glittering beads and small rods of wood and, I thought, a tuft of feathers. She sold it to a man wishing to attract good fortune to himself and his home as he sought a wife. He was a broad man, muscled as a plowman and homely as a sod roof. He looked about my age, and I silently wished him well in his quest.

The market was well into its day when Baylor arrived. He came with his cart and ox, and six trussed piglets to sell. I did not know the man well, despite the fact that he was as close to a neighbor as Hap and I had. He lived in the next vale and ran his hogs there. I seldom saw him. In the fall, we sometimes made a trade, a slaughter-pig in exchange for chickens or labor or smoked fish. Baylor was a little man, ski

So it was as much self-defense as neighborliness for me C-BV, to greet him with, "Good to see you again, Baylor. Fine litter of piglets. Best get some water into them to make them lively, and they should fetch a good price."

He gave them a careless glance. "No sense stirring them up, or taking the chance they'll get loose. Like as not they'll be meat before the day is out anyway."

I took a breath, and with an effort kept from speaking. The Wit is more curse than gift, I sometimes think. Perhaps the hardest part of possessing it is witnessing so completely the casual cruelty of humans. Some speak of the savagery of beasts. I will ever prefer that to the thoughtless contempt some men have toward animals.

I was willing to let our conversation end, but he came to inspect our trade goods. He made a small disparaging noise, as if surprised we had bothered to come to market at all. Then, catching my eye, he observed heavily, "These are good piglets, but there were three more in the litter. One was bigger than these."

Then he paused, waiting. His eyes never left my face. Uncertain of what he expected, I replied, "Sounds like a nice, big litter."

"Aye. It was. Until the three disappeared."

"A shame," I rejoined. When he kept his stare on me, I added, "Lost while ranging with the sow, were they?"

He nodded. "One day there were ten. The next day, seven."

I shook my head. "A shame."

He took a step closer to me. "You and the boy. You wouldn't have happened to see them? I know sometimes my sow ranges almost to your stream."

"I haven't." I turned to Hap. The boy had an apprehensive look on his face. I noticed that Ji

"Not so much as a track or a pile of dung," he replied gravely. He held himself very still when he spoke, as if a sudden movement could precipitate danger.

I turned back to Baylor. "Sorry," I said.

"Well." He observed heavily, "That's strange, isn't it? I know you and your boy and that dog of yours range all about those hills. I would have thought you'd have seen something." His remark was oddly pointed. "And if you saw them, you'd know them for mine. You'd know they weren't strays, free for the taking." His eyes had never left my face.