“What, though?”
“I don’t know.” She rubbed her forehead as if she could rub the stress away. “Are we too patient? Too lenient?Shouldwe strike them first?”
Maybe she just needed to hear the validation, or maybe she was doubting herself. She waited as Walt stared at her. After a moment, he said the very thing that made her certain he was the right choice for his current position. “War has no place in Crenshaw. You know that. We all agreed to that. We are few, and though we squabble—”
“This isn’t a squabble, Walt.”
“Did they hurt your woman?”
“No, but… I feel it. Something is coming. They’re meeting. They created the rift that poisons us. We all know that!” She paced the small space while she talked, wanting to be talked down or set loose. Maybe that was the crux of why anyone landed on her short list of friends and loved ones: they told her the rules. After a few centuries of meddling with people’s minds, Prospero sometimes doubted her own judgment.
Which is whythatis my magic.Magic was based on a critical character trait; of that she was certain. And her ability to compartmentalize and hide her own memories, to question her recall or judgment, to ask confounding questions had manifested as mental magic.
“So we attack because wethinkthey are going to do something else?” His voice was gentle, but it did the trick. Prospero felt herself relax. She lowered her shoulders from the tense position where they’d been raised.
“What if it’s worse than the rift?” she asked in a small voice.
“Then we deal with it. We can’t strike out against Agnes and her lot because of something they might do. You know that. Thoughts and talk are not crimes.” Walt gestured to the worn chair he always offered her. It was currently draped in a lemon-and-puce-colored knitted blanket.
“Even after your patches, the rift is killing witches. Our witches aredyingwhile we try to reason with their greed and… I feel helpless,” Prospero confessed.
He nodded. “I know you do. I do, too.”
“I want todosomething,” she added.
“That’s your youth talking.” Walt sank into his chair.
“I’m an old lady! A hundred plus isn’tyoung.”
“Ha! Talk to me when you add another century to that.” Walt looked at her, meeting her eyes the way few people did. “What else had you rattled tonight?”
“Ellie has questions. She’s upset that I’m rejecting her and—”
“Why reject her? You like the chit.” Walt gave her an odd look.
“She thinks we’re married—”
“You had relations before that.” Walt leveled a confused gaze at her. “She’s only attractive when she’s not yours?”
Prospero sighed. “If she doesn’t remember, she can’t really say she wants to—”
“She is saying it, if I understand correctly.” Walt frowned. “You’re looking for trouble where it doesn’t need to be. You were both boneheads. Romance the girl. Leave the past in the past, and keep her safe. Why does it need to be complicated?”
“Yourage is showing.” Prospero shook her head. “I want to tell her the truth.”
He tugged his beard. “Which truth? The one where we all die if she’s not with you? The one where she got the best of you over there?”
“Walt—”
“No. Don’t try your wiles on me, woman. You broke the rules for her.” He shook a finger at her. “You can tell her you had a fight. You can tell her I ordered you to erase it. You can even tell her that she is all that stands between you and death. You will not tell her she fled Crenshaw. Do that, and we’re back to more damn trouble. Can you imagine if the girl joined Aggie?”
Prospero felt like she was deflating. “I think that was why Aggie talked to her tonight.”
“Well, there you go. Kiss your woman until she’s obedient, and keep her away from the enemy. Problem solved.”
Every so often, Prospero could see the truth of how different eras had mindsets that simply clung to them. Walt came from an era when women were objects to be controlled, and while he had evolved to a degree, she realized in such moments that he saw her as his equal, manlike in his mind, and his “wisdom” on dealing with Ellie was flawed.
Kiss Ellie to compliance? To obedience?The thought was laughable. Prospero would try to talk to her without breaking the chief witch’s rules, and she would hope that whatever was coming from the New Economists wasn’t as bad as she feared.
