Tricked Into Flight

Chapter 25

*Katerina's POV*

It had been a long time since I had a hot bath, but at least I could blame my slothful indulgence on giving Brandon time to wash up and talk with the old woman. She would have probably heard every piece of gossip under the sun and be bored enough to share it.

I braided my hair as I went outside and returned the towel and soap. "Thank you."

Brandon stood up and also told the woman, "Thank you for the lovely visit. I hope you have a good day."

"Any good gossip?" I asked as we wandered down the dirt-packed street where a few market stands were scattered between the buildings.

"Not for our journey, and she wouldn't comment on the group of riders we saw go past," he said, his eyes flickering to a nearby booth where a woman knitted a sock while watching us go by.

"Well, we need some flour, and I wouldn't mind looking around a bit since we got here faster than we thought we would," I replied, also conscious of the handful of sellers within earshot.

We paused at a few tables to examine the wares laid out. None of the items were anything we needed, nor were we successful in subtly steering the conversation to the mages, although we did confirm they had been here.

As we walked past a couple of guest rooms, I muttered to Brandon, "Unless they were wearing their robes, I wouldn't know a mage if I saw one."

"That's why I'm here. Diondin can see through my eyes with a special spell they can't sense, and he should be able to tell if they're a mage."

It was everything I could do to not flinch or cringe away from him. I hastily rechecked my magic shields but didn't dare try to strengthen them with a dragon keeping watch. As best I could tell, they were still as strong as I could make them.

Were the dragons also able to see raw magic? Or just if someone was a mage? Did it require different spells? Human mages could tell if someone was a mage if they used a special spell. It was how they tested children to see if they were developing that power, but I didn't know if it was also capable of spotting a Wellspring since we couldn't use our magic.

All I could do was hope that the spells were different. Andar had likely done the same thing in the last village with Randel, and to the best of my knowledge, the dragons weren't aware I was a Wellspring.

"Katerina?" Brandon asked, glancing at me.

"Sorry? I kind of spaced out while thinking."

He pointed at a sign with a wheat symbol painted on it. "That looks like the best place to buy flour."

"That'll work."

As we went inside, the smell of baking bread – the good stuff done in the oven, not my poor attempts in a pot over a fire – filled our noses. Various kinds of flour were arranged on one side of the tiny store, and loaves and other kinds of baking were on the other shelves.

Unlike a market stall where bartering was a rule, there were signs on the walls showing what the various sizes of canvas bags were worth and the various trades allowed. Different signs hung over different types of flour and the prices varied depending on the quality. Each was accompanied by a small bowl with a sample of the flour so people could see what they were getting.

The clearly displayed signs were a reassurance that the man by the oven wouldn't try to take advantage of a hungry traveler, but it also prevented the buyer from possibly getting a deal.

I examined the signs and drifted over to the cheapest flour. It looked like a mixture of barely ground grains with flecks of chaff that had likely been the sweepings from the bottom of the mill. I had no problem eating it, but I'd feel bad feeding Brandon something like this.

"If you want to grab a small bag for yourself," I told Brandon, "I'll get a bigger bag of this stuff. You'll probably want something on that side." I pointed to the signs on the far shelves where the good kinds of flour were.

He looked between the flour in front of me and the bowls where I had pointed. "Why don't you get some better-quality stuff as well?"

I hung my head. "This is all I can afford. As it is, it will empty my coin pouch."

I kept my eyes firmly fixed on my worn shoes, too embarrassed to look up. A rider might be able to waltz into a castle and get a free meal, but I struggled just to feed myself.

He was silent for a long time, and I could feel his stare.

"If you had so little, why did you share your bread with us?" he quietly asked. "You needed it more than we did, and Randel wouldn't have cared if he just ate cooked meat."

I shrugged, still not looking up. "It was polite. Randel might have taken it without asking. You... You've been kind to me, so it seemed fair. It wasn't good bread, but it was all I had to offer."

"Well, you're not buying that chicken feed. We'll get that bag over there, and I'll pay."

My head shot up. "Wha–"

"Anything that keeps Randel full and mellow is worth a few coppers. And now that I know that bread was all you had and not just an attempt to make Randel eat less, I won't feel right until I give you more than what we ate." He walked directly to the section I'd pointed to and picked up a large bag that would barely fit into his backpack.

"Uh, I don't need something that fancy," I quickly said, "and I don't think we need that much flour..." There was enough in that bag to feed all three of us for a week.

"No buts. I've seen how much Randel can eat. If you feel like you owe me a debt, then you can cook us some bread tonight. You managed to make that other stuff edible over a fire, so you must be a good cook, and bakers are paid for their time and talent."

The baker looked up with a smirk, then refocused on a pie crust, evidently accustomed to couples bickering over his prices and what quality to get. I trailed behind Brandon, unsure of how to argue or if I even should argue at this point. We did need flour if we wanted bread, and two men could eat a lot if they weren't rationed by how much I cooked.

He set the bag on a table near the counter and investigated a nearby shelf. "Ah, a bit of oil will help. And some sugar." He glanced back at me. "Can you use yeast with your style of cooking?"

"I've never tried, so it would probably ruin the bread if I started experimenting."

He nodded and left that folded piece of paper alone. "I think this should be enough."

I wondered what army he was trying to feed. At least I wouldn't have to be stingy with how much bread I made. As the baker came over, Brandon dug out the proper number of coins and passed them over without question.

The baker glanced at me, then handed back one of the coins. "Buy her something special from the market."

My cheeks burned as I focused intently on my shoes again.

"Ah, certainly," Brandon said, sounding slightly flustered by the unexpected comment. "Thank you."

There was some rustling as he put the flour, sugar, and oil in his backpack. I finally looked up, noticing his ears and the back of his neck were still red. At least I wasn't the only one trying to figure out how to fit this into our cover story.

He turned around and asked, "Ready to go?"

I nodded and followed him out of the store.