Page 35 of Sightwitch
Pies and tarts and bread with jam,
Who wouldn’t want to eat it?
On the third sing-through I realized I was rasping the words aloud—and I also noticed the Rook making a fuss behind me.
He clicked and hissed, so with my hands still hovering above the fire’s warmth, I glanced back.
And straight into a pair of gray eyes.
A man’s eyes.
I screeched. Then almost tipped into the fire. Arms swinging, I stayed upright just long enough to lurch around … andthenhit the floor with a painful thump.
Before me, the pile of rags had unfurled into a very tall, very pale man covered in black oil.
“A fire,” the man said in Nubrevnan. “How excellent.”
A man. Standing in front of me. Filthy skin, pale hair, speaking Nubrevnan.
I would not have been more surprised if Tanzi had suddenly appeared. In fact, that would have been a thousandfold less surprising than this.
My fingers moved for my knife. Poor defense against a man so large—and he waslarge, all shoulders and long limbs—but I would take what I could get.
His hands shot up defensively. Even his palms were dirty. “I won’t hurt you. I just want the warmth.” His voice was rough as an avalanche. He motioned to my fire. “May I?”
“No,” I said flatly. Then I unsheathed my knife and thrust it out.
He sighed. His hands fell, and for several long breaths, we stared each other down. The crack and pop of the Firewitched matches echoed around us. Even the Rook stayed absolutely still, absolutely silent.
The Rules were very clear about what to do with Accidental Guests of the male variety, and I had seen firsthand how that law was carried out. It had happened the year Tanzi arrived. A hunter had lost his way in a blizzard. He’d managed to pass through the glamour, and he’d ended up at the Convent’s front gate.
Sister Rose had wielded the knife. No questions asked, no hesitation, no remorse.
“It is the will of Sirmaya,” Hilga explained to Tanzi and me later. “And Rule 37 leaves no room for misunderstanding.”
But today—right now—I wasn’t actuallyinthe Convent. I was inside the mountain, and there was plenty of room for misunderstanding.
Drip, drip, drip went the quicksilver. A reminder I did not have time for distractions. Formen.
I broke our standstill first. “How did you get in here?”
“A good question. One for which I have no good answer.”
“Meaning you don’t know.”
“No clue.”
I rubbed at my throat with my free hand. Either my Nubrevnan was bad, or he had a roundabout way of speaking.
Likely both.
“Stop that,” I snapped.
“Stop what?” His hands lifted higher.
“Whatever you’re doing with your face.”
“This is my attempt at a smile. To calm you.” He smiled even wider, and I shuddered. The stretching of his lips and crinkling of his eyes made him look like he wanted to eat me.
