Chapter 2
Casrian had only visited the Catali province once, years ago, when he was still in training, but it was almost exactly as he remembered it.
The narrow dirt road they traveled on was surrounded by miles of farmland and rolling hills, broken by the occasional village or way station.
Their destination, Jarn, was located at the far edge of the province, bordered by an unclaimed wilderness beyond the Naistor River.
It was a prime area for witchcraft—remote, uncivilized, the people largely uneducated and superstitious.
Many in the outer provinces turned a blind eye to the king’s decrees outlawing both the practice of witchcraft and its patronage.
They believed living so near the taint of the Black Woods put them in danger and that the only way to protect themselves from magic was through the use of magic.
The White Horse Inn, where they’d stayed the night, had a hex sign above the front door.
Impossible to ignore, he’d fined the innkeeper and they’d been served cold gruel and weevil-ridden bread for breakfast.
The Church’s presence was weakest near the border. Many in the priesthood considered it a punishment to be posted so far from civilization, but someone needed to care for the people here.
The people who remained, anyway. Every year more of them fled to the cities. They’d passed a lot of collapsed barns and empty homes on the road, though the fields here appeared well tended.
Up ahead, his scout came into sight around a bend in the road, riding at an easy pace that told Casrian nothing was amiss. Daris dropped back to make room for Kenet to give his report.
As he drew up alongside, Kenet touched heart and forehead in a casual salute. “The road narrows through the woods and is washed out in a few places, but it’s passable all the way through to the village.”
“Do we need to worry about thieves?”
This far out from the Duke of Catali’s seat would mean the roads weren’t regularly patrolled.
Kenet withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the sweat and dust from his face. “No sign of anyone in the woods. The animals appear undisturbed. The trees are healthy. The air is clear.”
“And the village?”
“No sign of corruption. I advised the mayor of our arrival. He seemed glad enough that we’d come, but he didn’t display the relief of a man just spared his life.”
The evil hadn’t had time to take root. Good.
“Thank you, private.”
As they entered the woods surrounding Jarn, Casrian was reassured to see the truth of Kenet’s report with his own eyes.
Witches tended to hide in the dark corners of the kingdom, woods and swamps being their favorite haunts.
The longer they stayed, the more changed the land became.
Birds and animals fled first, leaving the land in eerie silence.
Vegetation suffered. Flowering and berry bushes died to be replaced by strangling vines and weeds that eventually brought down even the great trees.
Left too long, the sickness in the land turned, becoming hungry and strange.
The woods here were still healthy. Sunlight dripped through the leaves, gilding everything in shades of green and gold.
Insects hummed in the air, and birds called to one another in the canopy.
A squirrel scurried through a drift of damp leaves and up a nearby tree.
The smell of growing things filled his nose.
He didn’t remember what the world was like before the darkness took the neighboring kingdom of Caetris, before the witch hunts, but he imagined this was what it had been like.
Peaceful and clean, life rising from the soil, fresh in the air.
The way God intended it before the fae fucked everything up.
Beyond the woods lay miles of farmland. The fences were in good repair.
The livestock appeared healthy. He’d been riding patrol since he was fifteen.
Five years now. You got a sense for it after a while.
A taste on the tongue. A whisper against your mind.
The unmistakable taint of corruption. He didn’t sense it now.
The town had a single wide, unpaved street.
The cottages lining either side were remarkably uniform, all of them made of the same local white stone.
They were only distinguishable by the brightly colored doors, red and blue and yellow, and the flowers that lined the front stoops.
There were several shops clustered near the center of town—a bakery, butcher, general store, and post. They didn’t pass a blacksmith, but Casrian could smell smoke from the fire of a nearby forge.
“Pretty little place,” Daris said, touching the brim of his hat to acknowledge the welcoming wave of an elderly gentleman who came out of his store to watch their approach. “There’s even an inn. We’ll have beds tonight.”
“What kind of witch could hide here?” Casrian frowned as he looked around. “This is the tidiest village I’ve ever seen.”
Strange for a village so close to the border. The ones that weren’t deserted were falling apart.
Daris shrugged. “I suggest you don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. This is the last stop on the patrol. I, for one, will be glad if it’s an easy one.”
They were drawing a crowd of onlookers. Children ran beside the horses, shouting to one another. A group of young women stood along the walkway, blushing and whispering behind their hands.
Daris smiled back. Of course he did.
Daris wasn’t a skirt chaser, but his dark good looks drew attention wherever they rode.
He shot his friend a warning look. “We’re not done with the patrol yet. Make sure the others remember that too.”
“Aye, Captain. Let’s make this quick then so we can get back to the city.”
Pulling up outside the building that housed the town hall and prison, he dismounted and handed his reins to Asher, the youngest man on the patrol, sixteen and training to be a medic. As he climbed to the walkway, a well-dressed middle-aged man stepped outside to greet him.
Casrian interrupted his welcome speech before he could get started. “Harlec, isn’t it?” He held out his hand which the mayor had no choice but to take.
“Yes. Yes, it is. A pleasure to meet you, Captain.”
Casrian started up the stairs. “Come along then. Let’s discuss this witch of yours.”
Casrian had hoped for a short visit—a simple consultation before he sought out the witch. It wasn’t that easy. A visit from an official witch hunter was often turned into a spectacle in these backwater villages.
He knew within a few minutes that this was going to be one of those investigations.
Mayor Harlec sent for the priest before Casrian was seated in the library.
The priest brought along his assistant, a young novice.
Several of the town elders joined them, prepared to give testimony, and the mayor’s wife and daughter kept finding excuses to pop in.
By the time he’d explained several times over that he wasn’t conducting a trial and only needed to speak to the mayor, an hour had passed. In the end, he ordered his men to clear the room and set Daris to guard the door.
“Tell me about your witch,” Casrian said, taking a seat across from the mayor and opening his journal.
Harlec sipped at his drink. “The woman is a widow. Her husband was a soldier, a local boy whose mother owned a house on the edge of town. After the war, he brought his new wife and infant daughter home to live. That first spring, the grandmother and son caught the red fever and passed on.” Harlec shrugged away that unpleasant memory and gestured toward the window.
“Mistress Yahl and the girl have lived here since.”
“How does she support herself and the child?”
“Her husband had a pension from some injury he’d received from his soldiering days. They lived on that for a while, but now that the money’s run out she’s turned to selling other services. She’s a beauty who’s too proud for honest work. I warned her it would come to this.”
“You’ve spoken with her about your concerns?”
“Aye. She wasn’t grateful for my interference, I can tell you that. I even offered her a position in my very own household, and she turned me out of her house as if I were the beggar.”
“Did she?” He didn’t like the glint in the mayor’s eyes. There was something unhealthy in it. “She has no family?”
“No one knows much about her family. Rumor says they had money and cast her off for marrying below her station. I don’t know about that, but she certainly has a prideful way about her.
” He snorted. “Who knows? Maybe her family did offer her help and she turned them down too. The fact is she doesn’t have money now.
I don’t know how she’ll manage the fines. ”
The mayor didn’t look particularly concerned about the predicament the widow faced. In fact, he looked almost glad of it.
“What services specifically is she offering?” Casrian asked carefully. It wouldn’t be the first time leaders tried to drive a whore out of town on charges of witchcraft. Most left willingly. It got tricky when they wanted to stay.
“She mixes herbs. Sells teas and salves. You know…” The mayor leaned forward and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Potions.”
He tapped his pen on his journal. “You mentioned a child.”
“She has a daughter, about twelve years old,” the mayor said. “The girl’s the spitting image of her mother.”
He’d need to question the child too, though he hated that part of the job. But witches often trained their children young. A warning about the dangers of following in her mother’s footsteps should do.
“Thank you for your assistance.” He stood, wanting to get this done as quickly as possible. “Where can I find this witch?”
“Surely you can stay awhile,” the mayor objected. “My wife is looking forward to hearing news from the capital. She’s had our cook prepare a feast.”
He hadn’t come to gossip about the court. “I’d prefer to get started immediately before word of our arrival reaches the witch. Where does she live?”