And then you'll take me away, Naelin thought. She couldn't win. This was a trap. Use her power, and they'd take her away from her family, to the capital, where she'd face worse and worse tests until one finally killed her. Or don't use her power, and risk dying here and now. "You're condemning me to death. If the spirits come after me, I won't be able to stop them, and you'll be murderers."
"The queen will pardon us," the guard said cheerfully. "Good luck!"
"Use your power," the champion advised. He then grabbed on to a rope above the bridge and shimmied up. The guard ran and leaped off the bridge, landing squirrel-like on a branch several trees away.
Naelin stood frozen for a moment. What was she supposed to do? Go home, and risk whatever "test" happening there? Stay here, all alone? Or return to the market?
Market, she decided. The champion wouldn't dare "test" her while she was surrounded by innocent people, and her family would be safe. Spinning around, she ran back toward the platform. It wasn't far. Just around the bend.
The rope bridge shook under her, and she shot a look behind her.
Three wood spirits, laughing gleefully, were loping toward her on all fours, like gangly squirrels. Naelin ran faster, her side pinching and the bag of flour pounding on her back. Ahead, she saw the platform-"Help! Help! Spirits are coming!"
On the platform, her cry was repeated, and people scattered, screaming. She kept running, her calves burning and her breath raking her throat. A clawed hand snagged her skirt. She felt a tug and heard the fabric tear.
Swinging her bag off her back, she threw it full in the face of the nearest spirit. The flour sack burst against its face, and the white dust plumed all around them. Coughing, the spirits slowed. She scrambled forward and onto the platform.
Ahead, in the market, it was chaos, as people ran for weapons and to hide. Stands were knocked over and used as barriers. Children were snatched up by parents and hidden inside barrels and behind boxes. Someone was shouting orders, and Naelin ran into the center of the tangle of people. She'd made it! Now the champion and the guard had to come! They wouldn't let the spirits hurt innocent people, right?
"More above!" someone shouted.
Looking up, Naelin saw air spirits swooping between the branches. Leaves spun in whirlwinds in their wake. They plucked at the scarves that had served as tent covers, and the fabric swirled through the air as if this were a celebration-a terrible, terrifying celebration.
Caught up in the press of people, Naelin was swept backward toward the shops. She pulled charms out of her pockets and began handing them to everyone she could reach. "Keep these out," she commanded.
But the spirits didn't attack. They circled the crowd-air spirits above and tree spirits on the platform. Screaming, people shifted out of the way, flattening against the shops, as the spirits slinked through the market, looking in every corner and sniffing the air, as if they were searching for someone.
For me, Naelin thought.
She'd be found if she stayed here, out in the open. Glancing behind her, she saw a familiar shop-Corinda's! With a burst of speed, she wove through the throng of people and pushed her way to the door.
Standing in her shop doorway, the hedgewitch was busily handing out charms. "Pay me later; take it now," she was saying. Seeing Naelin, she cried, "You should be home!"
"Shh! You don't see me!" Naelin squeezed past her inside and crouched by the window. Outside, six tree spirits stalked back and forth across the platform. Six! They hissed at the crowd, and people held charms in front of them with shaking arms. Don't attack, she thought, but she didn't let the words escape her own mind.
With the champion and the guard out there somewhere watching, she didn't dare use her power. Naelin ran to the shelves. The flour had stunned them, and the charms repulsed them-what if she combined the two? Corinda's shop had every ingredient a hedgewitch would ever need. Naelin pulled canisters from the shelves and began dumping the contents into a bowl. She recited the recipe in her mind, multiplying the ingredients and then stirring. She felt a faint tingle on her arms, raising her arm hairs. Almost done.
Cradling the bowl in her arms, Naelin ran to the window. She peeked out. Across the platform, by the fallen stands, she saw the miller pointing a shaky finger at Corinda's shop. Silently, she cursed him and his overpriced flour.
The tallest tree spirit swung his head toward the shop, and Naelin shrank back. She hugged the bowl of herbs tighter against her chest. Her heart was beating loud, and she thought of Erian and Llor-Erian with her smile that lit her eyes and Llor with his cheerful grin. She pictured them curled up in bed, peaceful, and awake, Erian talking about her day at school and Llor tugging on her skirt, asking her to play.