Semras paled. “No! No, that’s not what I said! I just—he’s remembered for something terrible he did to us. No Coven will mourn him, but we wouldn’t kill him. You said yourself he had passed laws in our favour. It’s the first time I’ve heard of this, but the Elders must have known. It wouldn’t be in our best interest to see him die now, despite the history between us.”
“The poor man. He did so much for your kind, but even in death, witches will not forgive him,” the inquisitor said, smirking.
His damn smirk again.
The witch seethed. “He burned the grounds of Esdara until nothing remained. Not even those who lived there. Not even thechildren. It will take decades before the Arras recovers from the fire. I don’t think anyone could be forgiven for that. Or have a change of heart that drastic.”
Swallowing back her anger, Semras looked away, refusing to cross his gaze. She hadn’t been born during the purges, but her heart, and the heart of all the peninsula’s Covens, still mourned for Esdara to this day. A cruel, fanatical act of savagery took it off the map over thirty years ago, but it would never be forgotten.
“It was long ago. Men change.” Inquisitor Velten’s voice sounded hollow to her ears.
“Men do not change that much.”
“I am not suggesting to forgive his actions. He was once called the Hammer of Witches for a reason, after all. I am only saying that he changed,” he said. “And I know he did. Master Torqedan bashed me over the head often enough, trying to make me see his way. He kept saying how he regretted his foolish youth, how the Inquisition needed to make reparations for its past wrongdoings, and how I should cast the sword aside and take up the pen instead, as he did.”
“Who are you trying to convince?” she asked brusquely. “He’s a war criminal.”
The inquisitor lifted his hands in surrender. “I am simply considering all the angles of the case. And now I see the Covens have kept their grudge against him well alive. One that is certainly justified, but it still remains a grudge, and thus a motive.”
“It’s—it’s circumstantial. You cannot possibly use that against—”
“Relax, witch. We are just talking.” His appeasing smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“Are we really?”
Inquisitor Velten’s smile fell. “No.”
Semras seized her neglected notes and started ripping the paper into small thin pieces, one for each line. A formality, now that her doubts were well beyond confirmed, but the habit was so deeply ingrained in her, she couldn’t break it.
Once done separating all the tidbits of information into their own note, she rearranged them around the desk, then grouped them by a logic only she understood.
“What are you doing now?” A dispassionate curiosity laced the inquisitor’s voice.
“It’s my method of research,” she said, moving a few pieces of paper around. “When I study a plant or a potion, I take notes of all its relevant characteristics, and then I rip the papers into pieces to rearrange my thoughts. It helps me gain perspective and discover connections between what seems to be unrelated.”
The scent of musk and wood essence suddenly filled her nose.
“Did it work?” Velten leaned over her shoulder to look at her technique.
Electric jolts coiled around her guts at his proximity. She ignored them. “Of course it worked. I know what your poison is now.”
“How confident are you?”
Semras stared at him. “This confident.” She took the vial, then knocked it back.
Inquisitor Velten grinned slowly, like a cat pleased with its game. “Is the gin to your liking?”
“Not really. I prefer tea,” she replied, wiping her mouth. “Though with the amount of juniper berries and cardamom within, it isn’t too far from an herbal tea, I suppose. I detected a hint of Senan orange too. Quite pleasant.” She placed the vial down on the desk. “Why would you tell me it was poison? If I didn’t know any better, it would have tainted my perception of it. A lesser herbalist would have searched endlessly for what wasn’t there.”
Estevan took the small vial and examined it. “Maz’s own little mix. She makes it for her brother, and he likes it spicier than what is sold in Castereina.” He put it back down. “It seems you are quite the competent herbalist, witch. You might not lie to me after all.”
Semras frowned in irritation. “‘After all’?”
“A shame.” The inquisitor rubbed his jaw, looking pensive.
Then he steeled his eyes. It startled her. Nothing was left now of the levity they had shared in the past few minutes. “It is time. Come, you will redo your little trick for real once we reach the crime scene. Take whatever you need with you.”
Taking a deep breath, Semras smothered any lingering feelings from her mind. She needed all her focus, more than ever before. Soon, she would fulfill the reason she had come so far from all she knew.
