Nolan swallowed and didn’t answer the Baron’s envoy. Instead he countered, “Of course I can—but before that, you need to tell me why you chained her up.”
“Boy, are you deaf? Do I have to explain again that this thing wearing human skin is in fact a demon?” the envoy said, impatient.
“No—impossible!” At that, Nolan looked up and glared at him. “Wasn’t it said—she’s the young lady Aelia from the Baron’s manor? If so, even if she’s entangled with demons somehow, your duty to your lord forbids treating her so roughly.”
“Who told you she’s the Norlon heiress?” The envoy’s brow creased. “She’s just a witch from God knows where. Lady Aelia is noble-born. How could she be such filth?”
“So… she isn’t?” Nolan’s eyes opened slowly. He was silent a long time before speaking:
“Then how do you intend to deal with her?”
“Your questions are a bit much, boy. How I deal with her is my decision. Now it’s my turn to ask: you saw this witch using evil magic, didn’t you?”
“This…” In Nolan’s mind flashed the scene in the granary when the girl flung a blade of blood from her hand.
“Nolan, answer honestly. It concerns everyone’s safety,” came Berli’s voice from the side.
“She… did use magic, yes. But it was to kill that monster—” Nolan opened his mouth and tried to defend her.
The envoy nodded and looked to Berli. “Then, Catechist, the traces of dark magic on that monster were indeed wrought by this demon.”
“And your instruction?” Berli pressed down a staying hand, throwing Nolan a look to hold his tongue.
“I’ve sent a message to the Baron. In a few days a cavalry troop will come to take the demon into custody.”
“She should be sent to the sanctuary for Baptism,” Berli said evenly, looking at the envoy.
“No—she should be sent to the manor dungeon. The sanctuary’s Baptism either drives out the demon—or purges demon and host together. And Lady Aelia’s whereabouts are unknown. We must torture this witch for the young lady’s location.”
“But how do you know she knows where Lady Aelia is?”
“There are no coincidences, Catechist.” The envoy’s voice went cold. “The young lady vanishes, and right after, a witch appears on the fief. To say the two aren’t linked—why, even a drunken dwarf wouldn’t believe it!”
“By the Church’s canons, a case of evil belongs to the sanctuary’s jurisdiction.” “This is the Baron’s demesne!” The envoy tapped the badge on his chest. “The lord holds all judgment.”
The two stared each other down. Then the Headman, who had been silent until now, spoke:
“Master Berli, didn’t we agree before not to alarm the sanctuary?”
“This…” The Headman’s words tipped the balance in Berli’s heart. The Glorious Church’s man looked at the envoy, then at Nolan, and sighed. “Very well. In that case, it’s for the Baron to decide…”
“Good.” The envoy nodded, satisfied. “For now, keep the witch confined in the chapel. When the horsemen arrive, we’ll act.”
Nolan stood aside, wanting to speak but unable to force words out, and watched as the two of them hammered down the girl’s fate.
Drip, drip.
Water fell at a steady rhythm from the cracks in the brick. Clytia sat upright in a corner, head tilted back, staring at the drops, watching them bead, then dash themselves to pieces on the floor.
I counted. More than thirty thousand, by now. Using water to keep time isn’t accurate—sometimes several drops in a second, sometimes one drop in several seconds—but in the chapel’s cellar there was no sky to see. It was the best I could do.
“Since being shut in here… it’s been a day.” Just as I thought it, the wood hatch above squealed on its hinges. A young man with a big red nose lifted the door and climbed down the ladder.
He set a candlestick on the table, hunched as if wary, and peered at us, trembling. “This thing… it won’t bite, will it?”
“Doesn’t look like it has sharp teeth.” Another man with a handlebar mustache came down the ladder, clapped dust from his clothes, and spoke.
“What if the teeth can retract? Or it suddenly spits venom…”
“You mean a snake? How would that be possible.”
Ah—two lackeys of the Baron, saddled with the rotten job of guarding a prisoner. I’d bet they’d imagined, before setting out, that they’d be bringing home the young lady—something glorious enough to show their faces for. So they’d come trotting along.
Clytia turned to face them. The chains on her wrists and ankles clinked. That made the red-nosed lackey yelp, too taut with nerves:
“Don’t move! Stay there!”
“Useless. She’s just a little girl. The Baron’s horsemen have arrived. If you’re like this, how will you escort her?” The mustached lackey spoke as he unhooked a length of chain from his belt.
He came up, and with a click fastened the chain to Clytia’s shackles.
“See? Nothing happened.” He tugged the chain and shrugged. “This is a chapel. The God of Light watches every demon and monster.”
“Let’s get up there.” They hauled on the chain. Clytia stumbled forward a few steps with her leg irons. The mustached man said, “Best walk on your own. Otherwise we won’t be gentle.”
Clytia was silent a moment, then moved, climbing the ladder. The cold northern wind wrapped her at once. My spirits lifted despite myself; the cellar air had been so stale that neither of us could rouse ourselves. Now I saw the sky already at evening. So—exactly a day and a night had passed.
Led by the lackeys tugging the chain, Clytia was marched out of the chapel, paraded through the village. Villagers stood in their doorways, peering with curiosity and fear.
Clytia kept her eyes forward and walked in silence.
At the village gate, a blue banner flapped high on a pole. At the head of a cavalry of about twenty, the Baron’s envoy stood at his horse’s side, speaking with the captain:
“This is grave. Can’t you set out at once?”
“Oh, the moment we had your letter, we rode without night or day. But you must know—horses need grass and rest. And not only the horses—men need tending too.”
The captain lifted his whip and pointed it at the Headman, who stood nearby like an attendant. The Headman bowed quickly:
“Understood—we’ll make ready at once to refresh the honored gentlemen.”
“Tch.” The envoy pressed a hand to his sword-hilt and clicked his tongue. “You people—must you make merry at a time like this?”
“My lord, this isn’t making merry.” The captain swung down, meeting the envoy’s eyes. “Thirst, you drink. Hunger, you eat. That’s the natural way.”
He clapped the envoy’s shoulder and left him, turning to the troop and shouting, “Dismount! Feed the horses first—then we’ll think about feeding you lot!”
I took it all in and clearly saw a flush of anger on the envoy’s face. But the two lackeys dragged Clytia forward at just that moment, witless:
“My lord, we’ve brought the prisoner.”
“Brought her? What for—now? Can’t you see we’re not departing?”
The envoy was full of fire with nowhere to vent. The two ran headlong into it. “But… wasn’t it your order?”
“My order? You two idiots—can’t you read the room? What’s the point of hauling her out now? For what? For what!”
After a tongue-lashing, the pair hung their heads. The envoy turned and saw the prison wagon in the middle of the troop.
“Put her in. Tonight, neither of you is to attend the banquet. You’ll stand watch here.”
Hands behind his back, the envoy walked off. I was snickering inside at the pair’s stupidity when the red-nosed lackey suddenly yanked the chain viciously. Clytia stumbled forward, and my head swam with hers.
“Did you hear? Keep moving!” The iron cage on the wagon creaked open. They shoved Clytia in and slammed it shut. The girl had grown used to rough handling.
The men of the troop drifted into the village in knots. Night fell fully soon after. The sky was overcast—no stars—only a half-moon veiled behind clouds.
The wind brought the smell of roasting meat and ale. Far off in the village, bonfires rose. The clamor of the riders drinking and making merry carried even outside the village.
As time ticked by, anxiety gnawed at me. It was nearly a full day and night. Clytia, why won’t you sleep?
The cage lock needed only a small spell to unfasten. This was the best chance to run!
Clytia curled in a corner of the cage. I could feel drowsiness on her—but she kept her eyes pried open and refused to sleep.
“She doesn’t want me to come out? Why?” Thinking that, I sagged—then heard Clytia shake her head and whisper:
“Not now. Not here.”
Not now? But the riders were at the banquet. Only two lackeys to deal with. If it’s escape timing—nothing could be better.
Or was she worried I’d cause trouble in the village? Drag everyone into it— Fine. I admit there’s been plenty of trouble lately. But I didn’t do those things on purpose.
Just as I grumbled to myself, a figure came through the night ahead.
A girl with a white headscarf wrapped round her throat; pale-gold hair slipped out through the gaps, swaying in the dark. Unmistakable. Only one person here had hair that long.
Diya came slowly, carrying a basket under a cloth.
“Halt! No one approaches!”
The two guards stood up and shouted.
“I’m here on the envoy’s orders, to bring supper for the two of you.”
Diya lifted the cloth. The smells of roast meat and well-browned bread spread out. Even Clytia couldn’t help swallowing. She’d gone about as long without eating as without sleep.
“This is…” The red-nosed lackey stepped closer, eyes wide.
“Comforts from the envoy for you two.”
Diya gave an innocently sweet smile, then took a few bottles of ale from the basket and set them on the ground.