Part 10 (2/2)
”Master La” But you cast spells. You're certainly not a priest. What else could you be?”
”I'm a common hedgewitch. And you're a knight. What's a knight doing hunting for me, Sir Tobin?”
He said nothing. He looked at the runes, the sign of someone too weak to work magic without aid. The bell hadn't rung, but if she was a powerful sorceress, she might be able to keep it from ringing. She took a vast, malicious pleasure in his dilemma.
”I thought hedgewitches helped people,” he protested.
She had thought herself indifferent to any human opinion, but it still stung. ”Why should we? People have surely given no help to hedgewitches.”
It was his turn to wince.
”What's your connection with the settlers?” she continued.
He tensed, a flash of alarm crossing his face. A trace of color followed it. He was a pitifully poor liar. Who could have been fool enough to send him after her?
”Did the priest you mentioned tell you about them? Or did he send you out to blunder along on your own? They're an odd lot. Half of them are soldiers, or priests in disguia” Ah. Is your priest with them?”
”No!” he snapped.
Ping. He jumped. He'd forgotten the bell.
”I mean, I don't know.” Ping. ”There is no particular priest.” Ping. He bit his lip and fell silent.
Cogswhallop grinned. Erebus shook his head mournfully.
”So, there's a priest behind both you and the settlers, and he's important enough to make you lose your head. He'd be the one who knows so little of goblins? Still, I'm glad I got the hiding charm on you fast. What's his name, this Master La”?” No reply. He'd probably say nothing more, but she'd learned enough. She took down the bell and began picking up chains.
His face was red with anger. ”Who are you?”
”A hedgewitch named Makenna, just like I told you.”
”Hea”” a furious gesture indicated the silent, satisfied Cogswhallop, ”a”called you general.”
”Well, I lead the goblins here.”
”Why?”
”They needed someone. The different races won't accept another kind of goblin as their leader, but they don't mind me.”
”You turned them into killers! I saw what you did at that cabina”I've heard about the others. You're not just a hedgewitch, you're a killer!” He sounded almost hysterical, but his eyes were observant. Trying to turn the tables and provoke something out of her? A good idea, but he'd picked the wrong target for his jibes. She cared nothing for humans killed.
He must have seen it in her face. His own expression changed, chilled and wary. ”How old are you, anyway?”
It mattered even less than her name. ”Seventeen.”
”Seventeen!” He glared wildly at the dismantled bell as if expecting it to ring. ”Seventeen and you'rea” you'rea” Bright G.o.ds! Does your mother know what you're doing?”
It was a ludicrous question, but it cut through her defenses as his accusation of murder never could. ”My mother's dead. Drowned by the very humans she spent her life helping. If she was alive, she'd be proud of me!”
Ping. The tone was m.u.f.fled by her grip, but clear. Makenna jumped. It shouldn't have rung, with the runes dismantled. But this was an intricate spell. She'd never really understood it.
”I'm sorry,” the knight said gravely. ”I can't imagine what that must have meant to you. But surely abandoning the Bright G.o.ds and taking power from the Dark One isn't the answer.”
”Pigdung,” Makenna snorted, enjoying his shocked scowl. ”There is no Dark G.o.d. Likely no Bright Ones, either.”
”That's blasphemy! Besides, if there are no G.o.ds, where does your power, and the priests', and the goblins', come from?”
”From the same place.” She gestured to the meadow outside the windows. ”From nature, from inside ourselves. The only reason I'm not a priest is that the chooser said I hadn't enough power. 'Her holiness is not sufficient.'” She mimicked the chooser's voice, remembering her mother weeping in the night.
”But.. .” He fell silent and then spoke quietly. ”Jeriah said something like that once. That the priesthood was the Hierarch's way of keeping people with powerful magic gifts in his service. Father was furious.”
”Who's Jeriah?”
He realized he was giving away information and his mouth snapped shut.
She shrugged. ”It makes no difference. He sounds a sensible man, whoever he is. But if you're interested, these days I swear by St. Maydrian the Avenger.”
She smiled and left him to think it over.
”Please, sir, all I want is work.” She stood before Master Lazur, eyes downcast, her shaking knees concealed by the unaccustomed skirt. Cogswhallop and Erebus had both hated this ideaa”and they never agreed on anything. But she needed more information about the settlement, and according to the knight, they believed their enemy was an ancient and powerful sorceress. They shouldn't suspect an ordinary peasant girl.
She'd been confident she could deceive them . . . until the guard brought her to this tent and addressed the sharp-eyed priest before her as Master Lazur. Well, what if he was her enemy? He couldn't know who she was, for they'd only caught a glimpse of her at the wall, and she looked very different now, with her drab skirt and properly braided hair. She took a calming breath and steadied herself to meet his eyes. Unlike the knight, she was a fine liar.
”Things are hard this time of year,” she said pathetically. ”Goodman Branno, he couldn't afford to keep me, and since then I've worked only a few days at a time. In Brackenlee, when I heard about your people, I thought there'd be lots of hands needed in a new village, so I came to ask. I'll work for bed and board until you can pay me.”
”I think we can do something for you.” His words were kind. He probably was a kind man, unless you got in his way. Then you'd be uprooted and burned, along with the rest of the grapevines. Makenna knew all about ruthlessness in defense of your own. She wouldn't underestimate this man. Just now, for all his kindness, he looked as if most of his attention was elsewhere. Good.
”But first you must answer a few questions, so we can be sure we can trust you,” the priest went on. ”May I cast a truth spell on you? It's a standard precautiona”we've done it with all our settlers here.” Makenna's heart lurched. His expression held nothing but a trace of boredom. It probably was a standard precaution, just like he said. Sensible, too, so why hadn't she thought of this possibility?
”Of course you may.” To say anything else would arouse his suspicions. She drew a deep breath. ”I have nothing to hide.”
He stood for a second, gathering power while she strove desperately to gather her wits. Unlike the weaker spell in her mother's books, the truth spell forced you to tell the truth, but perhaps . . .
He laid his hand against her throat, and she felt the power swirl though her like a churn paddle. She gasped and he glanced at her, startled. Should she not have felt it? She blinked innocently. He withdrew his hand, and the power wrapped around her stomach like a giant fist and settled there.
”What's your name, girl?”
The fist squeezed and she felt the answer welling up in her throat. She couldn't stop it. ”Makenna, Ardis' daughter.” He accepted the indication of b.a.s.t.a.r.dy with visible indifference, and she thanked St. Spiratu the Truth Giver that she'd not yet told anyone the false name she'd intended to use.
”Where do you come from?”
”The wetlands, originally.” The name of her village rose in her mind, and she added quickly, ”But that was years ago. I've traveled a lot since.” It was all true. The alien power in her belly stirred restlessly but forced no further answer. Good lies came from truth, like b.u.t.ter came from cream. If she could keep talking and always tell the truth, would that work?
<script>