Page 151 of A Weave of Lies
“My apologies, my lord,” Themas said after a curt bow. “Your horse bolted a short time after you left, and I rode the other one to bring him back here. It took a few hours to track him down and convince him to return. Stubborn beast.”
“I will care to hear your excuses later, Maldoza,” Velten said. “Step away; you have done enough to the poor horses already. I will take care of them.” The inquisitor waved him away, muttering curses under his breath as he rubbed Pagan’s neck.
Semras observed him fret around the mighty stallion. She could reproach the inquisitor for many things, but not his dedication to those he cared for.
Not toher, though. He’d rather die than be bound to her.
Scoffing to herself, Semras turned her attention back to her evening meal—if stale red bread and hard cheese could count as one. Themas sat next to her, and she passed him some of her travel rations.
He nodded gratefully. “Thank you. Did … did anything happen? While you were both scouting ahead?” At her questioning glance, he cleared his throat and added, “You look sad.”
“Sad? I’m angry. At this useless trip, and athimand his constant lies,” she hissed lowly. “He’s fomenting something, Themas, I can tell.”
The knight scooted closer. “I’m listening.”
Glancing over her shoulder, Semras made sure that Velten was still out of hearing distance. “He will leave us behind. I’m sure of it. There’s a witch he’ll go see. I don’t know exactly what he wants to do to her, but I won’t let him.” She eyed the knight. “Will you stop me?”
Themas shook his head. “Tell me how I can help.”
“Stay here. Keep the camp and keep acting normal. If he leaves, let him. I’m a woodwitch—I can track him down through the Arras. If he takes the horse, I’ll take Pagan, so—”
The knight winced. “Don’t. I worked with horses before, and that stallion has the nastiest temper I’ve ever seen. He nearly bit my head off this afternoon. I had to coax him into obedience by giving him all the sugar cubes I had on me.”
Semras threw a look over her shoulder. In the dark, the kelpie’s eyes were two black pits within which no light reflected.
Themas shuddered. “That beast is unnerving. Never riding him again if I can help it.”
“That’s the Fey for you. Velten told me blood might placate him.”
With a perturbed frown, Themas mouthed ‘blood?’ to himself.
“I’ll give him some of mine,” she continued, “and he’ll—”
“No, don’t hurt yourself. I will do it.”
Semras sent him a pointed look. “Don’t take it the wrong way, Themas, but your blood won’t be as tasty as mine. The Fey are cannibalistic, so Pagan will want witch blood more than yours.”
And she wouldn’t let him strike a Fey Bargain, not when that washerpenance for leading an inquisitor onto her coven grounds.
“… If you insist. You know better.” The knight furrowed his brow. “And then what?”
“Then I stop Velten. With whatever means it takes.”
Themas grimaced. “That’s not a plan …”
“I have one. It’s …” Semras glanced back.
The inquisitor was arranging blankets over both horses; he was almost done with their care.
“No time,” she whispered hurriedly. “He underestimates me. I’ll use that.”
“Semras, you can’t turn to the Bleak …”
“I won’t.” Her smile held no warmth within. “I promise.”
Her maimed fingers couldn’t weave fast enough to make it an option anyway, so she planned to use something else. Just one little seed from one of the deadliest plants she happened to have collected recently.
Inquisitor Velten walked back to the fire. “I will take the first watch,” he announced. “You both go to sleep. Maldoza, you will be next, so be ready.”
