Page 119 of A Weave of Lies
The knight’s hands flew up in defence. “Alright! Alright. I’m just … trying to find an angle to work with here.” Sighing, he lowered them. “We’ll find something else before it’s too late.”
His words reeked of another secret, another truth kept from her.
Semras furrowed her brow. “… What do you mean? What are you not saying?”
“I mean … you looked like you’re …” Themas rubbed the back of his neck and winced. “… dying. I don’t like that, and I’m not the only one. You have more friends than you think, Semras. We’re working to get you out of here as soon as we can.”
“Really?” She shook her shackles. “You’re all doing a piss-poor job of it!”
The metallic chains clicked against each other repeatedly through the silence.
Themas looked at them. Eyes laden with guilt, he softly took her hands in his. “I’m sorry.”
Her fury deflated at once. “… I’m sorry too. You’re only trying to help, I know. It’s just that … I’m troubled. When I was in the west wing, he …hecaught me.” She didn’t have to specify who. “And I … gave him what he wanted.”
A chilling despair had driven her to offer him her life. He hadn’t taken it, but he would once he learned she had talked with Callum.
Themas lifted a shocked, wide-eyed gaze to her. “… What did you just say?”
“It doesn’t matter. I spoke to that other inquisitor who visited earlier. Once he learns of it, and hewilllearn of it, he’ll …” Semras took a deep breath. “But I have … a plan. The start of one, at least. I think.” All hinged on what discovery she might make from her analysis. On whether he had truly been waiting for her to run away.
The knight’s eyes darted to the paper he had brought earlier. “I see.” He stepped back, releasing her gently. “Can I do anything to help?”
Semras walked to the desk and laid her hands on it. Beneath her eyes, the paper and ink that might put all this chaotic nightmare to order awaited her. “No. I’ll knock on the door if I think of something, but … no, I’ll take care of it. Thank you, Themas. I mean it.” She managed a thin smile to bid him goodbye.
The knight bowed, then left.
Semras took a deep, steadying breath. The past few days had taken so much out of her, and the worst might still lie in wait. But she had no other choice. She had to prevail.
Nimue told her she would.
She sat down at the desk and jammed the pen between her shackled fingers. After dipping it in ink, she paused over the paper, took a deep breath, and then started writing.
‘Inquisitor Estevan Velten,’she laid down on one line, and‘Semras’on another. Then some more names as she saw fit.‘Nimue’and‘Tribunal Eloy Torqedan’were among them.
With difficulty, she ripped out the individual lines and placed them side by side on the desk. That was a start, the foundation upon which she could build her hypothesis.
‘Victim ingested a witch of Yore’s remedy,’‘Velten confessed to the murder of Torqedan,’and‘Cause of death: prickly comfrey overdose from a witch salve’soon joined them. In an afterthought, she added,‘Mentor of Velten and Callum.’Then she gritted her teeth to write‘Plans to frame a witch for his crime.’
Semras tapped the pen on the desk. She needed more.‘Was forbidden to weave,’as well as‘Consulted a witch about poison’were soon jotted down and placed between Velten’s name and hers, followed by‘Lied about being forced to requisition a witch.’
Staring at the paper, one conclusion jumped to her immediately. She carefully ripped out another part of the paperand wrote‘Does not need a witch’s weaving’before laying it down on the table. Whatever plans the inquisitor had, it didn’t involve her powers but her knowledge. But why would he need it?
Why would he consult her when he,the murderer, already knew how the victim had died?‘Needs a scapegoat,’was the reason he had given her, and she laid it down on ink. He had yet to use her for that, keeping her prisoner instead. This too was added to the list, along with‘Was allowed to roam’and‘Was spied on during captivity’. The confusing‘Waiting for me to escape’revelation joined them.
In front of her eyes, a pattern began forming.
‘Still investigating.’Semras wrote that part after remembering the autopsy report and the cross-checking of testimonies she had found in his study. He had told her earlier that people were expecting him to conduct them, and yet … She added after it the word‘extensively.’Beyond the autopsy itself, no one would have known if he had skipped combing through interviews, letters, and pharmacological notes. Besides, there was the matter of that ‘incriminating letter’ he was still looking for—one that could prove his guilt … but how could it have been lost in the first place when he could have easily retrieved it among the evidence?
There were still too many blanks. She needed more, much more, to make sense of it all. Anything could be useful.
Semras started adding some smaller, seemingly insignificant details, such as‘Bleakwitch suspicions,’‘Honest liar,’‘Protects his people at cost to himself,’and‘Respected the witch burial ritual,’with‘Allowed the collection of devil’s helmet.’
The last one earned a place in her diagram, and she mused upon it a little. She still remembered how he had changed his mind after initially refusing her request. Hovering her pen over a blank part of the paper, she hesitated, then wrote a guess with‘Earning favour.’
It didn’t feel right; shaking her head, she drew a line through it and decided on‘Guilt-driven?’
Her eyes surveyed what she had so far and caught the name of Nimue. It made her think of‘Lied about paternity,’‘Barely back home since baby’s birth,’and‘Witch hunt in the Anderas.’
