Chapter 2 #3
She shooed the cat from the table and drew in a harsh breath.
She was becoming irritated with him, which was good.
He much preferred her irritation to fear.
“The house next door has a bad foundation. The walls hold moisture and that isn’t good for anyone’s health.
I can’t explain the noises people hear other than to say that we are the last house in town, and there are wild animals in the woods. ”
“You have fae blood.”
He opened his hand to show her the witchstone he’d slipped from his pocket when he knocked at the door. It was no surprise to see the mark glowing on its surface.
She frowned at the stone and then at him. “That stone tests bloodline, not intent. The law only outlaws the practice of witchcraft, not the existence of women with a drop of fae blood.”
That was true, but he was surprised she knew it.
He pocketed the stone. “It would have been easier if the Church had managed to eliminate the bloodlines so we weren’t left to deal with this ambiguity, but here we are.”
Her irritation tipped over into anger. “Easier? You’re talking about hundreds of people who died for nothing.”
“It was a dark time,” he said. “We’re fortunate the cleansing marked an end to it.”
Finally, he had provoked her. He regarded her calmly, his hand never far from his sword, ready to react if she discarded her innocent act. He’d had little old ladies dive for his throat during similar conversations.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “So that’s it? I stand convicted because of the lies of spiteful people and a stupid rock.”
He shook his head slowly. “You haven’t been convicted of anything, Mistress Yahl. We received a report of a witch in Jarn, and we’ve come to investigate that report. Nothing more is happening right now. I spoke to the mayor and then came here. I’ll write up my report tonight.”
“And what will your report say exactly?”
He shouldn’t tell her. It was against protocol, but he didn’t really care at the moment.
He was annoyed at the mayor. It had been a long patrol, and he was ready to go home.
“Assuming that my men find nothing out of the ordinary outside, my report will say that although you have fae blood, there is no witch sign here and that you appear to be free of demonic influence.”
Her shoulders sagged with relief, and he hated to continue but it was necessary. “There will be a trial.”
Her eyes flashed. “What? Why?”
“Because it’s the law. Once a formal accusation has been made against a person with fae blood, there is always a trial. I’m here to make certain that the law is followed and to administer the king’s justice as necessary. The trial is conducted by the people of your community.”
“Then the trial will be a farce.”
“I stand as representative for the king. The positive reaction of the stone will be submitted as supporting evidence against you. My report stating that we found no witch sign will also be submitted. The mayor and local priest will decide the matter. The trial will be private, attended only by the four of us, behind closed doors.”
She gave a sharp laugh. “Not if the mayor has his way.”
“If you are found innocent, you will still be fined for the creation of potions since you’ve already admitted to that.”
“I don’t have enough money to pay the fine.”
Swallowing a twinge of pity, he forced himself to continue. “If you are found guilty, you will be sentenced immediately.”
He thought it extremely unlikely that she would be found guilty.
The accusations against her were weak. He didn’t understand why the mayor was so sure that the woman before him was a witch, why there were so many witnesses against her.
He didn’t like that there was no hard evidence.
But there was a process to these things.
He’d done his job by conducting the interviews. He’d gather the reports from his men about the animals and the state of the surrounding land. He’d lay out his findings before her people. And only then would a decision be made by the members of the community who knew her best.
He preferred the cases where there was no question about what he was fighting. He’d rather face down a dozen demon-ridden witches than this trembling woman before him.
“I understand you have a daughter,” he said, climbing to his feet and slipping his journal back into his pocket. “I’d like to speak to her as well.”
Her body went rigid. “No.”
“I’m required to interview all members of the household.”
A younger child he might have overlooked, but at twelve, the girl was old enough to begin working with her mother.
“You only mean to speak with her?”
“Of course.”
Her gaze was wary, but she had no choice and knew it. With a sigh, she said, “She’s out on an errand. She won’t be back for hours.”
He called for Daris, and when he came inside, said, “Leave Asher and Kenet to wait for her child to return. You gather their reports on the woods. I’ll escort Mistress Yahl to the mayor’s house.”
Daris nodded in acknowledgment but cast a pitying look at their captive. It was hard not to feel sympathy for her. There were tears gathered in the corners of her eyes and her hands shook.
But witches were deceptive creatures. The pretty ones were often the most dangerous. The ancient grandmothers, the most vile.
Casrian hoped that Mistress Yahl would prove to be innocent, but until the trial was over, he had to treat her as a witch.