His fingers tightened on his hilt, and arcana thrummed through his hand as Sid made an inquisitive sound from the scabbard. Then again, if the witch was shrewd enough to make him feel false security, she may well be so clever that she expected him to guess at her plan to ambush him in the dark with infernal henchmen and have an entirely different trick up her non-existent sleeves. No, if she knew that he knew, then she would do nothing that he could defend against with his sword and instead lead him to some other doom, like a false-bottomed floor above a pit full of poisoned spikes. But wasn’t that just the original, sneaky plan—luring him into a trap? And if she knew that he knew that she knew, then how in the realms would that work?
Gods, she was a cunning witch.
The woman slowed, glancing back, and Reeve started—her silver eyes had a slight flicker to them in the dark. “What’s wrong?” Her gaze darted ahead again as she came to a full stop.
Reeve bowed his body away to keep from running right into her. “I sense peril,” he said almost directly into the top of her head, wanting her to know whatever her brilliantly nefarious plan might be, it would be thwarted.
She squeezed in her shoulders, her bandaged hand tight on the strap of her bag. “Did you see him?” The way she twitched, looking about like a bird, she was…afraid? Perhaps she should give up witchcraft for a life in theater.
He stepped to the side and gestured for her to keep moving. “There are few inhabitants in this village, and I’ve seen no one, but I don’t believe I would recognize this entity if I did. You could describe…him? We are looking for a man?”
“I’m not sure.” She fell in beside him, and he noted what little space she left between their shoulders. A pit he would walk over and fall in, then, seemed unlikely. And, to be fair, she hadn’t had time to run ahead and dig one out. “He sounds like a man when he speaks, and he was tall, like you, but not a lot of men that big can also fit into jars.”
“Not when they’re whole.”
She chuckled nervously, but her knuckles whitened even in the dark. Giving her satchel a little shake, the ceramic inside shifted. “You did figure out how to use this thing, right?”
After she had told him everything she knew about the apotrope, Reeve had spent some time sitting with it in the temple proper and studying the sigils, or rather just thinking very hard about them. “Oh, no, not at all.”
The woman straightened, shooting him a horrified look.
“I know how to use this.” He jiggled his sword’s hilt, an expert in wielding it, and swords were more complicated than jars—sometimes much more dependent on how many edges they had. “I’ll just cut him up, and we can shovel what’s left of him inside.”
“I don’t think that’s how the apotrope works.”
“Then how does it work?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, neither do I.”
She groaned with more of those quick, nervous movements. “I guess we will have to do the cutting up thing, but I think he might be made of smoke, and—”
A fox yipped into the newly fallen night, and she jumped, an even more genuine fear reaction, Reeve thought.
“You’re…nervous?” he asked, watching her closely.
Her lips were drawn down and her eyes wide. “I just don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
“Oddly conscientious for a witch.”
“I’m not a witch,” she said with exasperation. “And to be honest with you, I don’t even know what a witch is.”
“A witch is…” Reeve’s next step came slower, peering deeper into the darkness ahead. He rarely had the opportunity to explain things to others, and here he was, stuck suddenly. “Well, it’s ayou.”
She scoffed, but at least her nerves were replaced with indignation.
“Then if not a witch, what are you?”
“Nox-touched,” she said. “Do you know what that is?”
Reeve pursed his lips and almost answered in the affirmative because of course he knew, he was well-versed in the evils of the realm, an expert on dark and seedy creatures that manipulated arcana for unholy machinations, but then realized while he had heard the term, no description came to mind. “I’ve never met one before,” he said, which did not betray he was unaware but also wasn’t equitable with one-armed, lying Walter’s shenanigans.
“Well, you have now.”
Reeve had seen many creatures, ones that masqueraded as things they were not, but his divine senses nearly always told him when he was in the presence of arcane deception. Valcord’s light told him nothing, though, when he pressed it in his chest. She was quite the formidable witch.
No, not a witch. There were many things about which she could lie, but not this. Evil creatures loved to brag about what they were, their unholy heritages and ancient bloodlines and unparalleled skills. Still,nox-touchedmeant very little to Reeve.
