Chapter 6
A Seer’s workshop is a dangerous place.
—EXCHARIAS, SYLVAN POET
After training the next morning, Thea headed to the workroom of the Court Seer, which was located on the chilliest, wettest, lowest level of the fortress.
As Thea reached the bottom of the staircase, her foot splashed into a puddle and she shivered, the autumn temperature of the Scar River already anticipating winter.
Frigid water flowed into crevices, making it impossible to keep the floor dry.
The entire thing seemed to be in a state of decay.
The damp, empty cells that had held Dracu captives during the war seemed to echo with agonized voices, though Thea knew it was merely the wind howling through cracks.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been here.
It smelled of mold and neglect. She had no idea why Veleda chose to have her workroom here when she could have had any empty one in the upper floors of Scarhamm.
Thea found the warped wooden door half open and let herself into the room. Veleda’s back was turned as she hunched over her worktable, her curly brown hair held loosely in a scarf, half of it escaping and trailing over her shoulders as she ground something with a mortar and pestle.
Thea glanced around the overcrowded chamber, which was lit with a single candle jammed into an animal skull, the flame lighting its empty eye sockets.
The shelves were crammed with too many vials, bottles, and bones, and a menagerie of odd things no one in their right mind would collect.
Her nose wrinkled at the smells of divination—crushed herbs and earthy things she couldn’t identify.
Veleda finally turned to face her. “Thea?” She set down the mortar and pestle, staring at the bundle in Thea’s hands. “What is that?”
Hello to you, too. Thea held the garment toward the Seer. “I need to ask you about this. It appeared on my hearth.”
Veleda gave her a doubtful look. “What do you mean it ‘appeared’?”
“I mean that one second my hearth was empty and the next it had a dress and stockings and a pair of slippers on it. This is the second one.”
The Court Seer looked unsettled. “But that can’t be. It would have to get past my wards.”
Thea took a step closer. “Do you want to examine it?”
Veleda reared back, pointing instead to a corner. “Put it there for now.”
Her reaction was odd, but Thea tossed the gown into the corner, watching as a thick bunch of cobwebs caught it, cradling it like a prize. “Don’t you ever let anyone clean in here?”
Veleda took a shuddering breath. “I can’t believe you don’t feel it.”
“Feel what?”
“The power coming from that dress.” Veleda leaned against her worktable, a hand to her head. “Old. Strong.” She rubbed her eyes, then blew out a breath.
“I could smell magic on it,” Thea said, realizing a Seer must be able to sense things she could not.
Veleda’s eyes shifted in thought. “Tordon told me what you heard on patrol the other night. Silver trees, or figments of them, appearing in the forest.”
Thea nodded, wondering at this sudden topic change. “Do you think that relates to the dress?”
The Seer frowned. “It concerns me that we have two strange things of unknown origin. Where are they coming from? How are they getting into Thirstwood and even into Scarhamm itself? Your father’s command over the roots creates one layer of protection, and my warding spells create another.
So my first worry is about those wards.”
Thea nodded, waiting in silence for a moment. “It sounds like you have another concern.”
Veleda sighed, her frown deepening. “Silver trees… that is… strange. I worry…” She stopped, shook her head, and met Thea’s eyes.
“There are also mystic buffers between realms, between our world and other, much more dangerous ones, and those buffers are the first and most important barriers that protect us.”
“Other worlds?” Thea asked, tension tightening her spine. “You mean like the Netherwhere?”
“Yes, that’s one,” Veleda said, speaking slowly as if thinking. “Another example is the welkins, which Cassia found with the help of her ring.”
Thea shook her head, wondering why the Seer was jumping to wild conclusions. Surely there was a simpler explanation for all this. Another witch working for the Azpians, perhaps?
Veleda spread her hands. “We know very little about the pathways to these other places. There’s a rare old book called Old Ones, Ancients, and the Folk, which used to be in your father’s library.”
“Used to be?”
Veleda glanced around as if she might find the volume somewhere underfoot.
“I can’t find it of late. But it talks about places where the barriers are thin between worlds.
The figments of silver trees could be a sign that something is trying to get through.
The appearance of this dress in your bedchamber is even worse.
It means something can get inside our walls. ”
An icy finger traced Thea’s spine. “I know my father’s power in the forest prevents Azpians from coming aboveground.
” It was hitting her that she knew very little about the magical component of what kept Sylvans safe.
“And you reinforce the wards on Scarhamm’s walls and inside.
You’re saying there’s more than that protecting us? ”
Veleda nodded. “What I’m describing are more like divisions between places, perhaps more like curtains or veils that can be drawn aside if their magic is depleted… They could break down.”
“And whoever or whatever is in those realms could come into ours?” Thea couldn’t believe what she was hearing, but she couldn’t deny a threat just because it sounded fanciful. As a Huntsman, it was her job to protect the Sylvans from all threats.
Veleda worried her lower lip with her teeth.
“If my theory is correct, we could think of the silver trees like a drip that shows a crack in a dam, a warning of what could come if the veil’s magic is not restored, and if your father’s power and my wards are unable to stem the tide.
Our priority must be to find where the cracks are.
We are not as safe in Scarhamm as we once thought. ”
“Do you think the dress comes from the same place as the silver trees?” Thea asked, following that thought to another. “What would happen if I put it on?” After all, it might be a way to find out more about all this.
“Thea,” Veleda said, her tone sharpening. “Promise me you won’t wear it. In fact, I want you to burn it. There’s no way to know what could happen.”
Somehow, that warning only made Thea more curious. “I promise I won’t wear the dress,” she said. This particular dress. She would promise no more until she knew what was going on. “And I’ll burn it back in my room.”
Veleda seemed satisfied by that and went back to worrying her lip. “I wish there were more Seers to help me.”
“Autumn said she’s apprenticed to you,” Thea reminded her.
Veleda frowned. “Yes, but she’s early in her training.” Annoyance crept into her tone. “She’s rather obstinate, too. Like most pixies.”
Thea couldn’t argue that. But obstinacy was necessary sometimes.
“She claims to keep Seeing an elm tree and a fountain,” Veleda went on absently.
“She’s convinced it’s some kind of warning.
But I recognized those as symbols associated with your mother.
” She shook her head as if dismissing the vision.
“I told her no warning could come from your mother, who is in a deep slumber in her tree.”
Thea stiffened, knowing that last part wasn’t true, but in agreement that her mother could have nothing to do with the current mystery. The queen had run off with some man years ago and no longer seemed to care about her family or the Sylvans at all.
“After what you’ve told me, I have even more work to do,” Veleda said in a firm tone, “but if you see anything unusual, promise you won’t keep it from me.”
Thea stiffened at this implication that she might be secretive. She’d always had the sense that Veleda didn’t trust her, though she didn’t know why. “Of course I won’t.”
Veleda pointed to the corner. “Don’t forget the dress.”
Dutifully, Thea went to the corner and picked up the purple pile of cloth, annoyed that the Seer didn’t even seem to want to examine it. Thea had promised to burn it, so she would.
But she didn’t think that would be the end of this.