Chapter 26
Maraz’Miri gently tugged her out of the parlour. Staring lifelessly at the monster’s back, Semras gave her no resistance.
Her tormentor faced the window with a stilted rigidity, his arms crossed over his chest. He never looked back, but she still kept her eyes on him until she could no longer. She wasn’t sure what she was hoping for. She felt too numb to think, or feel, or reason.
Her heavy feet brought her up the staircase. Nothing went through her mind. It remained empty. Her heart beat; it pumped blood through her veins. She wished it didn’t.
Once at the top of the stairs, Semras stopped, too dazed to remember the way to her cage. Maraz’Miri pranced up the last step and sidestepped her to take the lead, as silent as a cat. No bell jingled at her movements.
A horrible doubt stirred Semras from her numbness. “Your bells …?”
Maraz’Miri shrugged at her and sauntered on. Her feet hit the wooden floor soundlessly.
“… How long have they been missing?” Semras asked. When she received no answer, she hurriedly caught up to her. “Maraz’Miri, how long have you been spying on me?”
The agent turned on her heel and kept walking backward.
“Was it spying? Ensi-il-ensi said, ‘Maz, you watch and you do not interfere, no matter what the witch is up to. You watch, and you tell me what she does and who she speaks to,’” she singsonged.
“That’s not spying. That’s watching over.
I’ve spied before. You wouldn’t have known it if I did. ”
The witch paled. “… He had you follow me? All this time?” Her thoughts turned to Callum and their conversation.
“I didn’t get in your way that much …” Maz sounded like a scolded child.
“Kept my distance. I think that new guy … um, Themas, I think? The one you took a stroll with earlier today? He felt my presence while you were in Ensi-il-ensi’s office a few nights ago, but I still let you two kiss!
Don’t worry, I didn’t tattle to Ensi-il-ensi.
I don’t think he’d have liked to know that. ”
The agent had followed her everywhere she went and reported it all, then. Soon, the monster would learn of her conversation with his rival.
Maybe he would accept killing her corpse now.
Maraz’Miri stepped closer and entangled their arms together.
Tugging a stumbling Semras along, she sauntered toward her cell.
“You’ve been up to a lot of things for someone under lock and key.
I’ll teach you how to pick them yourself for the next time.
It was still quite impressive how you tried, though. You should join us!”
“… What …?”
“Nimue’s boring now that she’s had her baby. She just keeps to her room and shushes me away whenever I come by in a breeze. I bet you wouldn’t. Do you really have to leave? Ensi-il-ensi, he said—”
Semras planted her feet on the ground. Her arm slipped from Maz’s, and the agent kept moving forward without her.
“Maraz’Miri,” she called. With her sleeves pushed back and one glove lost somewhere she couldn’t remember, her shackles were on full display now. “I’m not here of my own free will. I’m a prisoner. Tell me you understand that.”
“Uh? Come on, if Ensi-il-ensi wanted you as a prisoner, you wouldn’t be able to sneak around at all.” Maz spun a few times on her heels with arms spread wide. “He’s just waiting for you to run.”
What …?
Her declaration stunned Semras into silence.
Maraz’Miri took her arm again and dragged her back to the room. “You should do it soon, I can tell he’s growing impatient.”
Waiting for her to run?
Semras stepped into her room, the agent’s words still weighing heavily on her mind. It wasn’t just hers. Mingling in were those of Nimue, of Callum, of Themas. Of her captor, even.
Something was deeply wrong. She could feel it in her bones.
Thread by thread, the weave of lies trapping her in this waking nightmare was fraying at the edges. Every contradiction she heard, every lie out of place, every act that spoke louder than words brought her closer to unraveling it.
It was time to slice its warps and wefts and peer into what lay beyond.
“Maraz’Miri,” Semras called, “could I have paper, ink, and a feather pen, please?”
“As you wish!” She bowed with a little dance. “Themas is supposed to be on guard duty right now. I’ll warn him to come back and bring you all that at the same time.”
Maz closed the door behind her. For the first time since her imprisonment, Semras heard it hit the frame with the soft click of wood on wood rather than the creaks of a cell door.
Mind ensconced in deep thoughts, she focused on solving the riddle once and for all. She had to; there were only so many times she could break before the pieces of her wouldn’t fit back together anymore.
Like a potion to identify, she’d lay out all the facts she knew and make sense of its chaos. Then she’d wield the truth like a weapon and take down her monster.
A knock on the door startled her away from her thoughts. “Come in,” Semras said.
Themas entered cautiously, then set the stationery down on the dressing table. “Semras …”
“I … I went to the annex.” She tried smiling. From his worried frown, she hadn’t succeeded.
“What was in it?”
“Nothing but a baby. And not …” Her voice trailed off before she could say ‘even his.’ Ulrech and Nimue’s secret wasn’t hers to share.
“Bloody Void, there was nothing at all? No paper? No plan, no … nothing?”
Semras thought of her portrait. “Nothing new.”
Themas groaned. “Then we can only … um, use the baby, I-I suppose? A great deal more tasteless than I was prepared for, but we could—”
“Do not finish that sentence, Themas,” she growled, glaring at him. “Do not even think about it. That child has the blood of witches flowing through his veins. He is kin to me.”
The knight’s hands flew up in defence. “Alright! Alright. I’m just … trying to find an angle to work with here.” Sighing, he lowered them. “We’ll find something else before it’s too late.”
His words reeked of another secret, another truth kept from her.
Semras furrowed her brow. “… What do you mean? What are you not saying?”
“I mean … you looked like you’re …” Themas rubbed the back of his neck and winced. “… dying. I don’t like that, and I’m not the only one. You have more friends than you think, Semras. We’re working to get you out of here as soon as we can.”
“Really?” She shook her shackles. “You’re all doing a piss-poor job of it!”
The metallic chains clicked against each other repeatedly through the silence.
Themas looked at them. Eyes laden with guilt, he softly took her hands in his. “I’m sorry.”
Her fury deflated at once. “… I’m sorry too. You’re only trying to help, I know. It’s just that … I’m troubled. When I was in the west wing, he … he caught me.” She didn’t have to specify who. “And I … gave him what he wanted.”
A chilling despair had driven her to offer him her life. He hadn’t taken it, but he would once he learned she had talked with Callum.
Themas lifted a shocked, wide-eyed gaze to her. “… What did you just say?”
“It doesn’t matter. I spoke to that other inquisitor who visited earlier.
Once he learns of it, and he will learn of it, he’ll …
” Semras took a deep breath. “But I have … a plan. The start of one, at least. I think.” All hinged on what discovery she might make from her analysis.
On whether he had truly been waiting for her to run away.
The knight’s eyes darted to the paper he had brought earlier. “I see.” He stepped back, releasing her gently. “Can I do anything to help?”
Semras walked to the desk and laid her hands on it.
Beneath her eyes, the paper and ink that might put all this chaotic nightmare to order awaited her.
“No. I’ll knock on the door if I think of something, but …
no, I’ll take care of it. Thank you, Themas.
I mean it.” She managed a thin smile to bid him goodbye.
The knight bowed, then left.
Semras took a deep, steadying breath. The past few days had taken so much out of her, and the worst might still lie in wait. But she had no other choice. She had to prevail.
Nimue told her she would.
She sat down at the desk and jammed the pen between her shackled fingers. After dipping it in ink, she paused over the paper, took a deep breath, and then started writing.
‘Inquisitor Estevan Velten,’ she laid down on one line, and ‘Semras’ on another. Then some more names as she saw fit. ‘Nimue’ and ‘Tribunal Eloy Torqedan’ were among them.
With difficulty, she ripped out the individual lines and placed them side by side on the desk. That was a start, the foundation upon which she could build her hypothesis.
‘Victim ingested a witch of Yore’s remedy,’ ‘Velten confessed to the murder of Torqedan,’ and ‘Cause of death: prickly comfrey overdose from a witch salve’ soon joined them.
In an afterthought, she added, ‘Mentor of Velten and Callum.’ Then she gritted her teeth to write ‘Plans to frame a witch for his crime.’
Semras tapped the pen on the desk. She needed more. ‘Was forbidden to weave,’ as well as ‘Consulted a witch about poison’ were soon jotted down and placed between Velten’s name and hers, followed by ‘Lied about being forced to requisition a witch.’
Staring at the paper, one conclusion jumped to her immediately.
She carefully ripped out another part of the paper and wrote ‘Does not need a witch’s weaving’ before laying it down on the table.
Whatever plans the inquisitor had, it didn’t involve her powers but her knowledge. But why would he need it?
Why would he consult her when he, the murderer, already knew how the victim had died?
‘Needs a scapegoat,’ was the reason he had given her, and she laid it down on ink.
He had yet to use her for that, keeping her prisoner instead.
This too was added to the list, along with ‘Was allowed to roam’ and ‘Was spied on during captivity’.
The confusing ‘Waiting for me to escape’ revelation joined them.