“I’ve found the reason why the mists are seeping,” the Laslite declared.
A sickening hush fell across the room.
Aldora gasped and cried out, flinching away from the metal and scalding liquid that soaked into her clothes. Her arms wiggled under her, crushed and battered by the sudden force of being thrown. She lifted her head and whimpered, feeling a sharp stab of pain where it had slammed into an iron cup.
“What is the meaning of this?” Nithers demanded.
Hands were on her the next moment, dragging her off the table and forcing her to stand, and it took all her strength to stay upright despite being held up by her arm. Hot and cold liquid streamed down her body to pool inside and around her boots.
“This,” she recognized her captor’s voice, “is a witch. One I came across speaking to something beyond the barrier.”
“Aldora? Aldora is a witch?”
At her name, she looked up at Master Nithers. He had a town’s lady cooing on his lap and his hands were fondling her bared breasts. Aldora recognized the girl as the blacksmith’s daughter, Hypathia, and immediately understood. She was an innocent who, like most budding females along the bordertowns, was in the process of losing it.
All the women of Thetras, and she assumed all other bordertowns, understood. To be pure, virginal, was to make a great sacrifice. Aldora had never understood why. Her bitterness had led her to believe that men found women who were untouched by other men worthy of something more—like death.If we cannot be touched then there is nothing stopping us from being killed.Aldora had done the same thing, in this very tavern, several years back. The tavern whores always knew the best men to send a maiden to.
Hypathia was disinterested, her features neutral, her body unresponsive. Her nipples weren't even puckered. But to go to the Master for an introduction? He either paid a whore a large amount of coin, or Hypathia was seeking safety beyond her standing.
“Aldora’s not a witch,” Hypathia offered meekly. A weak defense but enough to give Aldora hope.
Pretend.She lowered her head subserviently to peer through her lashes. She wasn’t a witch but she also wasn’t a simpering innocent. “This is all a mistake, my lord.”
“I found her next to the wall after sundown, speaking to something, some creature, maybe even the mist itself without pretense,” the Laslite said.
“That’s not true!” she pleaded, and a shiver shot through her remembering the dark voice. “It was a misunderstanding. I heard children and wanted to make sure they were safe. You know they play dangerous games.” Aldora hoped it was enough to convince Nithers. She hated lying, but her options left little recourse.
“Quiet! Both of you!” Nithers squinted at her and then the Laslite. “When did this all happen?”
Hushed conversations filled the tavern; without looking, she knew they were all about her.
“Not an hour ago, my lord.”
“Where?”
Both Aldora and the Laslite answered at once.
“—Between Thetras and Ledger—” she blurted.
“—Outside of town, on the world path leading to Nestras—”
The Laslite’s grip tightened on her arm. Pain shot through her and she bent over, praying someone would step in and save her. “He assaulted me,” she whimpered.
“Don’t listen to her lies.” The Laslite hit the table with his fist. “She spoke of tricks and is manipulating you now. I have encountered many witches in my travels and I guarantee, on the king’s honor, that she is one!”
Others in the tavern started to speak up, spewing their own opinions that she could neither argue nor agree with. Tears slid down her cheeks and settled on her lips, her chin, where they eventually fell from her face.
“The mists have gotten worse, it started years ago,” someone said.
“Burlox fell less than a fortnight ago! We’re not safe.” Another voice, louder, and more frantic.
“We’re all in danger! Look at her! If she’d been assaulted, she’d have more than mead and stew marring her.”
Nithers shoved Hypathia off him and stood. She fell to the floor and quickly covered herself before she scrambled away, her eyes alight with fear and pity.For me.Nithers leaned across the table and scanned Aldora from head to foot.
“You can see, Master of Thetras, that she is a liar,” the Laslite said smugly.
Nithers waved his hand and the room descended back into silence. He opened his mouth and a moist breath that reeked of mead blasted her face. She flinched away.
