Velten strode to her, then snatched the drawing from her hand. “How much have you heard?” he asked, eyes scanning the piece of canvas.
“Do not change the subject. Was I under surveillance?”
Bristling, the inquisitor glared back. “This is the third time you have spied on me, witch, and my patience is all spent. You will answer me. Now.”
“Oh, you think this makes you the victim here? When, apparently, you have ‘no need for a good conscience’? What isthatsupposed to mean?”
Velten cocked his eyebrow. “Is this all that you have heard?” His grip on the canvas relaxed.
Mistrust flared up in her mind. “You are plotting something,” she accused. “Something for when we return.”
“I am always plotting something. That should be no cause for alarm, but if you must know … those words simply mean that I am following the oath I made as an inquisitor and putting duty above all else. As for this …” He flipped the drawing, showing it to her. “This is much more innocent than you believe.”
“Oh, is it now?”
“Very much so. You see, I have a—”
“I know. A witch. Nimue,” Semras said. “Get on with it.”
Inquisitor Velten grinned, his eyes brightening by the second. “You continue to impress me. So you knew her name,andthat she was a witch too?”
He was trying to change the subject, to bait her into forgetting the answers she wanted. She had fallen for it too often; she wouldn’t this time.
“‘Covenless’ may have given it away, wouldn’t you say?” she retorted. “I am not in the mood for sham flattery. Answer me now.”
“And here I was being sincere,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “Well, witch, here is your answer. Miss Covenless has a little gift for seeing your Arras in motion. She can foretell future events, pathways of choices—that sort of thing. You must know about this better than I.”
Semras gaped at him. “… Nimue’s a seeress …?”
Velten nodded. “She paints the visions she sees. And this,” he said, shaking the drawing in her face, “was a portrait of the witch she said would solve my issues. I asked for more, and she had visions of Bevenna. I went there, and the local priest told me about the wild, white-haired kitten who sneaked into his church once. He informed me of who knew her, of what they had said about her during confession …”
Semras paled. A single instance of curiosity about the customs of her new hamlet had cost her so much.
“That little blacksmith boy of yours had some interesting thoughts about you, witch. Lots of little provincial dreams of living with the charming woman in her hut, a few steps off the creek to the north of the village. It was not difficult to follow that trail … and there you were. Identified, chosen, and located. How very convenient it is to have a seeress at hand, wouldn’t you say?”
So Keran had been infatuated with her, and she hadn’t noticed it—nor the danger it had posed to her secrecy.
Shaking off thoughts of the blacksmith’s apprentice and his bundles of flowers, Semras took the painting from Velten’shands. “Shechose me then, not you …” she said, eyes following the lines of the drawing.
Her heart fell; she didn’t want to dwell on why. Perhaps it was because of Keran’s accidental betrayal, or the very deliberate one of an unknown witch sister, or … or something else.
“I like to think I had the final word on it,” Velten said, “but, in a sense, yes. She did.”
“You must hold her in great esteem.” Semras looked up to see a soft smile gracing the inquisitor’s lips.
“I do,” he replied. “I owe her a lot.”
She hated that smile more than any other he had ever shown her.
A knock on the door startled them both before her mind could dwell on why.
“Ensi-il-ensi, Maz’s here!” a feminine voice singsonged.
The inquisitor bade the newcomer to enter, and a thin person wrapped in dark clothes slipped between the barely open doors.
‘Maz’ showed not a single inch of skin, not even through the dark, vaporous fabric covering her eyes. She moved curiously, as if ready to bolt at any moment, each step jingling the bells sewn in her clothes. In her hands, a stack of papers threatened to spill onto the floor.
“Here it is,Ensi-il-ensi! I’ve gathered the usual: testimonies, visit calendar, detailed description of what we found at the scene.AndI put together a somewhat decent timeline of what we know so far. Oh, is that her?” She glanced at Semras, then returned her attention to the inquisitor. “There’s just—”
