Chapter 3. The slow fugitive.

   A cat climbed up the tree right next to the farm house, found a nest and helped itself to some eggs. It looked at the field while licking its mouth, but lowered its head at the sight of a weasel which ran to the woods on the barren fields. The cat's eyes followed the beast until something dove from the sky.
   The light of the rising sun briefly painted the white owl orange.
   It landed right on top of the weasel and finished it in one strike. That weasel wasn’t even alive – what lay between the owl's claws was nothing more than a puppet of straws, mud and decaying flesh. The bird collected a small blue pearl from within the carcass and swallowed it whole, before it took off and flew back to the farms, then on the windowsill of the cellar’s window. Inside, someone laid asleep on a simple bed. From the bed an onlooker would only see a curious bird, and the window forming the frame of an orange landscape – frost-covered ground glinting with sunlight, a blue sky without a cloud, just the superior edge of a rising star. On the foreground, a lonely tree with few leaves, the border of a forest, a glimpse of smoke rising from someone's pipe, down in the courtyard. The farmer had the room cleaned up, yet remaining dust still glistened like gold. The owl looked at the cellar's space, empty except for the bed and two wooden chests, and animal hides on the floor and on the walls, the inner side of the roof, and a chimney. Some heat came from the bricks. The on the bed girl squinted. She noticed her blanket fell off and she shivered before sitting up and stretching.
   “Don’t move.”
   Whoever said that immediately got a pillow to the face, followed by an uppercut. The girl ducked down and avoided a punch to the face. Her assailant wore some kind of light chainmail and a wooden mask. They rose a hand, she pointed hers, screamed something cryptic. The person flew against the chimney. A dagger appeared in the girl's hand. She threw, but the wooden mask barely dodged it. She charged at the intruder and got them pinned down on the ground.
   “One move and you're out.
   -I'll give you that, you know some moves. Damn it, you got me… If not for the missed punch…
   The person sat up on the ground, back to the wall. The window sunrays lit up a patch of the floor on the bed’s left side.
   -There is a reason you came up, mister Inquisitor. Beside me.
  -I sensed an aura. Only two kinds of creatures emit that strong of a signature. Dragons and shapeshifters. And I'm not with the Church.
   -I too felt something. You see, I barely feel cold, but when my gut goes haywire, I shiver. Where’s the bird?
   -Out hunting, the wooden mask replied.
   She glanced at the windowsill but the owl was gone.
   -Really? What?
   -Take a guess.
   -Pursuers.
   -Your pursuers. You move too slow for a fugitive.”
   The figure crawled forward to sit under the sun and took off their mask. Their voice was now feminine. Both feminine and familiar. The girl's eyes widened. Under the mask, she saw herself.
   “My name is Ada, I'm your twin sister. I work for somebody. They used to be nothing, became everything. And they've got power. Still, it was a wrong decision to send us bastards separate ways. One ends up cuddled and cherished, the other has to endure and learn to fend for herself. But who could have known things would go wild, would go lawless? Certainly not old Charles.”
   She grinned.
   “You have a protector. Someone paid my boss to see that you travel safe. Your best bet is Gleb, Dalia’s sworn enemy. Our brother is there. Not all of our brothers are dead. You cross this duchy, you cross the mountains, you leave for another country. The Inquisition won't chase you there, too far, too expensive, leave men at the border but that's it.
   Ada beckoned Anna to come closer. They sat facing each other on the patch of sunlight. Anna’s fingers were white, almost beaming, soft and spotless. Ada’s were callused, she was missing two fingers on one hand, while the other looked once badly burned. Both hands appeared rough, dark and tanned.
   -I don't believe you, Anna said. People can change voices, cast doubles. The spell I cast on you wasn't just to throw you away. If you remained conscious, you might as well be the enemy. Or any crooked, lying third party.
   The girl who introduced herself as Ada laughed.
   -Clever guess. But there is a secret I’ll tell you: mages claim that once you get powerful enough, you can sense Dragons. That's a myth. Same goes for my coworker. They’ll lie all they want they can feel them. But no one has actually done it besides a select few. Old Charles was one of them. Same goes for siblings with the blood of a powerful magician. Especially twins.
   -No way. How come I don’t sense an identical signature? I know mine.
   -Detection magic works in strange ways. You don’t see yourself like another sees you. It's like your voice – you don't sound the same to you as you sound to someone else. To hear yourself truly, you need someone to record your voice, advanced magic. To see your own signatures how others see it, you'd need some training. Probably mind reading, or divination, not my strong subject.
   -I know my books. Is the farmer safe.
   -Safe and sound. He didn’t sense us coming here.
   Anna chuckled.
   -You and your bird. How long were you watching me sleep?
   -Half an hour. I fought the temptation to kill you.
   -For what?
   -For sport. The alarms you set were too easy to bust. You can’t sleep alone when you’re on the run. You're a clueless amateur, and that means a dead girl walking.
   That’s why we aren’t sisters. You’re just some sick joke. I have no reasons to exile myself. I’ll go where I must, in Gleb maybe, but not permanently.
   Ada stood up.
   -Then I’ve nothing more left to tell you. My boss will be very disappointed. And so will be John.
   -John?!
   Anna grabbed the unwanted guest's collar and showed her onto the bed.
   -What have you done?
   -Easy, countess… Every thing in time. Saw you two meet a merry bunch yesterday, by the bridge. I think some guy betrayed you, then retreated. For now.
   -Where’s John?
   -When to do recon while you were sleeping. He's freezing his ass off in a ruined mill down the road. I dropped by and told him the farm is not safe.
   -Liar.
   -It’s part of my contract to make sure he lives. My boss is a dumbass. Your John is a dead weight, you should leave him.
   -What happened to me needing not to sleep alone?
   -He might do the trick, but he’s not a soldier. And you might not know it, but the limp of his, the one he probably told is not big deal... Well, I doubt he can move as fast as you would, if you followed me.
   -To abandon him? Take me there.
   -What is he to you, anyway?
   -Someone who believed me, when others would not.
   -And a fool who put copies of Charles' will on doors in villages. Though they're two peas in a pod. Old man was a nutjob, suggesting you should seek the plan for a political union from black mages who meet at a witches' sabbath. What nonsense is this? Poor John’s trying to figure out some “hidden meaning”… I’m losing time here. Get dressed.
   Anna went to a chest and grabbed clothes. A long hooded cape was among them.
   Incidentally... I lied to your John, told him we were cousins. Fool gobbled it up. I still find one thing funny. Look at this.
   Anna, who had just put on a shirt, glanced at the sheet of parchment in Ada's hand. She froze.
   -My boss got a copy. Redacted to your name to mine. I took this to a forgery buddy, he told me that much. Apparently, the Archmage was in a hurry, but he thought one more person was worthy of reading this rubbish. That’s where my job came from, along with the information. My boss told me you existed, since it’s stupid that I’d risk my life for a doppelganger I’ll freak out at the sight of.
   The girl laughed dryly.
   -I’m ready.
   Anna put on a triangular hat.
   -Take me to John, then leave.
   Ada put on her wooden mask.
   -Whatever the princess says…”
   She jumped through the window and landed with a roll. Anna took the stairs. In the kitchen, she found the farmer coming home from his morning smoke. She told him not to leave until noon and not stay close to windows. Then she gave him a silver coin and bid farewell.
   Not a minute after she left, a mouse appeared from a crack in the ceiling. The bearded farmer barely looked at it.
   “Yes, they just left. Go. Do your job.”
   The rodent squeaked and ran away.