Chapter 04 #2
Themas took a sip of his tankard. “Hmm … In truth? I do not know.” Semras waited patiently, and when her continued silence and attention wore him down, the knight ceded more details.
“Inquisitor Velten told us nothing. We left Castereina in a hurry, so there was no time for a briefing. Or if he gave one, I didn’t catch it.
I joined his retinue on the cardinal’s order just before they left.
I asked the sword-bearers later, but they told me they had no idea where we were going. ”
Semras hummed. “So, no one asked questions?”
“There was no occasion for it. We rode in such a hurry, the horses barely made it. We stopped by Bevenna to break our fast, and then he led us to your home. Even now, we still don’t know exactly why you are with us.
I don’t think Sir Ulrech himself knows exactly what is going on.
” Themas swept his gaze around the common room. “Speaking of which, where is he?”
“If it’s all the same to you,” Semras said, chewing on her rye bread, “I’d much rather he stays away while I eat. His scowling will ruin my appetite.”
Themas huffed out a laugh. “He’s a knight of the Venator Choir; they’re all like that.” He paused, hesitating. “I mean … I am not, but I do not really relate to the other Venator knights. Most are much older than I am.”
“Some sword-bearers look like they’re around your age,” Semras said, grinning slowly. “But something tells me you wouldn’t get along with them either.”
“No. No, I wouldn’t,” he replied with a chuckle.
“And even if I did, I would not be free to mingle with them. The Confraternity is a religious militant order, but we do not all play the same role. Knight-brothers are often called upon by the Inquisition to serve as its sword. That is not the case for sword-bearers. They are lower-ranked guards, not used to fighting so much as escorting and guarding officials and holy places. Their presence with us is quite … um, irregular.”
“Is it?” Semras cocked her eyebrow. “I thought your Confraternity existed only to harass us witches.”
“It’s … um.” Themas blinked, then sighed deeply.
“Well, I certainly did not enroll for that reason. Venator knights swear the same oath as inquisitors—to protect Elumenra’s light from those who’d try to extinguish it—and that is what I joined to do.
But, I admit, yes … most of the older knight-brothers think it means they must ensure witches follow the princes’ laws. By force, if necessary.”
Semras trailed her spoon through her stew. “It’s ridiculous. We don’t need your people to police ourselves. We’re not as wild and unruly as the Inquisition likes to pretend.”
“I am genuinely sorry for that,” he said, voice contrite. “If it helps, it’s obvious to me the Confraternity will not survive another century. There are fewer recruits and donations every year. Give it a hundred more, and the Confraternity of the Venator Choir might be entirely gone.”
Her spoon stilled between her fingers. Glancing around, Semras observed more closely at the sword-bearers scattered across the common room.
Beyond the brief altercation earlier, she hadn’t really taken notice of their individualities, favouring instead to view them as a monolithic group.
But here, as the evening slowly advanced, as more and more Venator guards rose in merriment at the abundant wine or fell asleep slumped on tables, their faces buried in their arms, she could tell just how disparate they were.
The younger sword-bearers, among whom she counted Raphene and Barco, were at least an entire generation apart from the older members. Many men in the latter group seemed close to retirement—and they made up most of the company.
“Then the Venators are a dying breed,” Semras commented. Her appetite returned, and she grabbed more bread to dip into her soup. “What about the Inquisition itself?”
Maybe Themas would have some other good news for her. The wine, or perhaps his youth and lack of worldly experience, made him carelessly chatty.
“That is more … delicate. Such news may not have reached your ears, but times are changing in Vandalesia. People are protesting the power resting in the Inquisition’s hands.
They think their history of violence dims the Radiant Lord’s Light, and the Church is pressured daily into revisiting its relevance.
There have been protests in the city-states all over the peninsula in the past few years.
” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Please keep this to yourself, but … if this keeps going on, the Church may disband the Inquisition soon. There have been rumours of talks between the cardinals to discuss that subject recently, yet that is not even the Inquisition’s biggest worry. ”
Semras leaned closer. “What do you mean?”
“The Inquisition has been struggling to maintain its numbers for at least a decade now. Most people nowadays think the Fair Folk are nearly extinct since the last witch purges decimated your people. No one is interested in joining an institution that seems so ludicrously outdated.” Themas scooted closer.
Semras held back a shudder as the cold iron studs of his brigandine briefly touched her forearms. Devoid of any connection to the Unseen Arras, the iridescent metal numbed her skin.
“Worse than that,” the knight continued, oblivious to her discomfort, “we no longer have enough tribunals to seat one in each of Vandalesia’s city-states. You might live to see the end of the Inquisition in your lifetime, Semras.”
Her brow furrowed. Had Inquisitor Velten lied about the rumours of a new war between their people?
“If they’re losing influence,” she said, “then what happens if they declare a new witch purge?”
“I’m not sure they could, at least not without driving themselves into annihilation along with the last of the Covens.
At the very least, they’d need a solid justification to get public backing and bolster their numbers to what they used to be.
” Themas eyed her. “They’d need a witch to do something that would push people over the edge. ”
Semras paled. Something like a murder by poison, maybe.
Her hair rose on her nape. The sudden feeling of being watched overcame her, and she spun her head toward the staircase. Her eyes caught the end of a burgundy cloak disappearing up the steps.
Semras bit her lower lip. She’d been observed—by Sir Ulrech or Inquisitor Velten? She wasn’t sure which one was worse.
Nerves shaken, she raised her glass and forced a smile for Themas. “You won’t catch this witch causing trouble, I promise.”
The knight toasted to her with a warm smile.
Long after their meal’s leftovers had grown cold, Themas escorted her to a dimly lit hallway on the second floor.
After passing by rows of wooden doors on blue plaster walls, the knight stopped before the last one at the end of the corridor. He lingered, exhaled, then turned to face her. “Miss Semras—”
“‘Semras,’ just ‘Semras,’” she said with a lopsided smile.
After spending such an excellent evening in good company, she felt giddy. Or maybe that was the wine? She might have drunk too much to settle her nerves after what she’d learned. But it was fine, she felt fine, and she’d sleep it off.
Themas didn’t share her good mood. A confusing, contrite frown marred his handsome face.
“Semras,” he amended with a weak smile. It faltered, then dropped as fast as it had appeared.
“There was one order from Inquisitor Velten I had not told you earlier. I … I should not have kept it secret for so long, I know, but … I-I had hoped to find a moment this evening to inform you, to—to prepare you. But I didn’t.
I shamefully beg your forgiveness, even as I know I do not deserve it. ”
So dramatic. His words puzzled her, but Semras kept on her smile. “What is this about, Themas? Just spit it out. It can’t be that bad.”
“It … it can.” His throat bobbed. “Inquisitor Velten has rented the entire inn tonight. There’s barely enough space to host us all, so the men have to share rooms. As a knight, I am to stay in the adjacent room to this one with Sir Ulrech, while … while you …”
Semras sobered up instantly. “This is Inquisitor Velten’s room, isn’t it?” She gestured stiffly toward the door behind the knight. “He told you to bring me to him tonight, didn’t he?”
Themas couldn’t look her in the eyes. “I’ll be close. If you scream—”
“There will be no screams.” Anger turned her voice into ice.
The whip of her words struck the knight, and he flinched. Her rage wasn’t meant for him, yet his timid manner fuelled it. “I am a witch, Themas. There will be no screams unless they come from the inquisitor himself.”
He nodded hesitantly. “I … shall rest easy then, Miss Semras. But if I may—a word of warning …”
Worry-filled eyes flickered to her. She hated them; they looked at her like she was some powerless girl and not a woman who could command the Unseen Arras at will. If the Crone-cursed inquisitor threatened her safety, she would not hesitate to call upon it, his ludicrous ban on weaving be damned.
“Don’t—” she began.
“It is said that Inquisitor Velten is known for … for bringing witches he’s investigating into his room at night. Many have walked free from prosecution afterward. I am unaware of the reason you have joined us, but if you are … with all due respect, if you are in trouble, Semras, then this—”
“Enough. No more.” Her throat tightened painfully around her words. “Not one more word.”
If she was in trouble. He was implying she had something to reproach herself for, a reason to fear the Inquisition’s judgment. Essentially calling her a bleakwitch! And he had the gall to suggest she’d whore herself out for a pardon she didn’t need.
“Please, listen! I understand you may be scared, and that what he’ll offer could seem like your only chance at redemption.
I understand it, really, I do! This man is powerful, and so is the law he represents.
Yet I beg of you to … to not consider … it.
” Themas grasped her shoulders. “For your safety.”
The witch sneered at him. Oh, now he was worried about her safety? More likely, he meant his peace of mind. The knight wanted to be absolved of the guilt should she be unwillingly taken during the night. If he truly worried about her safety, he’d have rejected Inquisitor Velten’s order.
Yet he hadn’t. He still led her to his room. The hypocrite.
Her coven sisters had warned her about inquisitors. They had also warned her about the kind of men who would assist them, men like Sir Themas. She should have known better.
Semras shrugged him away and faced the door. Her glare stopped him in his tracks when he tried to open it for her. “Leave me be, knight.”
Dropping his arm slowly, Themas took a step back, then another, then turned on his heel and retreated into his room.
Her contemptuous stare followed him until he disappeared inside.
Semras turned the doorknob, breathed deeply, and entered the room of Inquisitor Velten.