Page 152 of A Weave of Lies
Never one to heed his demands, Semras spent the next hour wrapped in her bedroll, perfectly still and waiting—waiting for the inquisitor to make his move.
By the time he did, she had refined her plan, considered the risks, and disregarded them all.
“Maldoza,” Velten called. Through the quiet of the night, his low voice sounded like thunder rolling in, announcing the coming storm.
Themas stirred from his sleep. “W-What …?”
“I must leave. I should be back within two or three hours, but if I am not, bring Semras back to her home, and then return to Castereina to await more orders.”
Semras heard a bedroll shuffle, and then Themas said, “Oh, I will, my lord. I have always watched over her, after all.”
A pause, broken by the knight’s surprised exclamation. Semras wanted to peer through her eyelids but didn’t dare to. If Velten caught her awake, it would arouse his suspicions, and her plan would fail.
“Onlywatch, Maldoza. Remember that she rejected you.”
“Sounds to me like she rejected you as well, my lord. No need to grab me; I have manners. I wouldn’t leave the marks thatyoudid on a lady knowing I couldn’t marry her,” Themas said, taunting him. “You think no one noticed them at camp that night? I did, Sir Ulrech did, and that sword-bearer who attacked her the night after d—”
The knight yowled. Semras tensed and risked a half-lidded glance.
Standing a few feet away from her, Themas was pinching his bloody nose. Velten was holding him by the collar of his brigandine, but the younger man only snickered at the threat. “Youput her in danger, my lord. Do not worry; I will keep her safe as you requested. I have orders, after all.”
Themas was playing with fire. Lips quivering, Semras shut her eyes, unwilling to see what violence the inquisitor would inflict on his knight in retaliation.
Instead of another scream, she heard Velten’s voice drop and say, “Thank you.”
Dried leaves shuffled, a horse neighed, and then … Inquisitor Estevan Velten left her behind.
Chapter 32
“Whatareyoudoing?”Themas asked.
Levelling a waterskin to her eyes, Semras poured her small jar of activated charcoal into it. Old Crone be thanked for giving her the foresight to buy some at Yore, or else her plan would have had deadlier consequences than she intended.
“An antidote,” she answered. “Or as close to one as I can make right now. He said two or three hours, right?”
The knight nodded slowly, careful to keep his cloak pressed against his bleeding nose. “I reckon his destination must be an hour from here, give or take. Why?”
“I’ll have a … um, window of opportunity to administer this before it becomes useless.”
“I thought you wanted to poison him?”
“I don’twant to. Inquisitor Velten is forcing my hand.” Semras pressed her lips into a tight line. “But he won’t make a murderer of me.”
His death would just leave her with a gaping wound within her warp shape’s core. She didn’t want her mother’s fate.
Themas hummed. “He took the other horse and left Pagan behind, just as you thought. Good luck with the beast, Semras.”
After a nervous exhale, the witch tied the waterskin to her belt, straightened her clothes, and approached the half-fey. “Pagan,” she called, her voice more confident than she felt.
Its black pupils jumped toward her with unnatural speed. They didn’t reflect the flames of the campfire, and she stepped back, unsettled by the Peering Night within.
Steadying her nerves, Semras tried again. “I have come for a Bargain, Fey.”
The stallion opened its mouth in a silent neigh. In it, she saw deep rows of teeth that didn’t belong to a horse.
A cold sweat ran down her spine. “I will give you a handful of blood, and no more, in exchange for your help in discreetly following your master tonight.”
It cocked its head, blinked, then neighed in a rhythmic, chilling tone.
