Page 78 of A Weave of Lies
“Very well. Then I shall return shortly.” Sin’Sagar bowed and made for the door.
Semras watched him go with some measure of curiosity. “You have interesting people working for you,” she said. “Do they all stay in your home?”
Estevan nodded. “Unless they have other living arrangements, the members of an inquisitor’s retinue usually lodge with him. Even I am technically subjected to such a tradition. This is my house, but not my home.” His eyes wandered to the walls painted with landscapes of colourful greens and blues. “The Church lent it to me. They would take it back should I ever leave the Inquisition.”
That gave her pause. “… Can you?”
“Well …” Estevan cleared his throat. “It is not commonly done, but conceivably … at the cost of a great scandal, I … I could. It would make me a perjurer, of course, and bring shame upon both my family and myself. Although this is not stopping the one person who would gladly see my name erased from the registry—a certain sanctimonious prick who thinks my place isnotin the Inquisition’s ranks.”
Semras knew only a single inquisitor upon which to judge if Estevan fitted in or not, but she knew enough of him to commend that unknown, wise person’s opinion. “Is it your steward? Is that why he speaks so boldly to you?”
“No,” Estevan replied with a scoff. “Master Sin’Sagar does that to keep me humble, he says.”
“Then he’s doing your Radiant Lord’s work,” Semras said, grinning.
A silent laugh shook his shoulder. It stopped as the inquisitor turned pensive. “Speaking of work … would you be opposed to starting yours tonight? I realize the hour is late, and I meant for us to rest a little after such a long trip, but I am starting to fear the corpse will yield no answer if we wait any longer.”
Her smile faded slowly, brought back to reality by the sudden reminder of why she was here. This wasn’t a visit of courtesy, and he didn’t bring her here to enjoy her company. She had a job to do. And he had someone to go back to.
She was but a … a temporary distraction, at best.
“We can start tonight,” she said, “but if … if you wanted some time to …” To what, go see his lover? No matter how much she tried, the words refused to escape her lips. Instead, Semras cleared her throat. “I mean … there must be people eager to see you now that you’re back.”
Estevan studied her for a long time—long enough to make her want to squirm in place. Fleeing his attention, Semras inspected the entrance hall.
Plasterwork coiled around each of its doorways and windows. Above her head, a wide glass dome let the moonlight hit a floor of green and white floral tiles. Her eyes followed a rug laid on it toward the grand staircase facing the front door.
Nowhere did she see traces of Nimue or of a feminine touch enhancing the decor. Wherever she was, it wasn’t here.
Did the inquisitor limit her influence to the west wing Master Sin’Sagar had mentioned? Or maybe her witch sister was kept hidden, like a secret he didn’t want out, and forbidden from stepping inside the main hall. Semras had expected her to come running into her lover’s arms as soon as they’d arrived, but she hadn’t.
Or maybe she couldn’t. Themas had mentioned a baby after all …
The inquisitor’s voice dragged her from her thoughts. “People eager to see me? You mean Miss Nimue Covenless specifically.”
‘Covenless,’ as a last name? That explained why Semras had never heard of her. Biting her lip, she kept her eyes fixed on the plasterwork of the nearest wall. Leaf patterns adorned the length of the trim. “Her, among others,” she mumbled.
He hummed. “I meant to ask you yesterday, but it seemed like … poor timing. Where did you hear about her?”
The carpet looked expensive, with its delicate patterns of tiny birds and scrolls of flowers and leaves in shades of green and white. Was it from Sena perhaps? She had never seen its design before, but it looked expensive, and everything imported from the East was—the tempests of the inner sea made all trade ships sailing it a risky but lucrative investment.
Semras glanced at Estevan. Undeterred by her silence, he was still waiting for an answer.
“I-I don’t remember,” she lied. The inquisitor disliked Themas enough; she wouldn’t add any new reasons to. Changing the subject, she added, “I heard you’ve had a child recently. Congratulations.”
Estevan crossed his arms. His fingers drummed against his left biceps. “You know about the boy? Again, where did you hear about that?”
“A boy? What’s his name?”
“I do not know. Answer me.”
Semras frowned. “How can you not know? This is your own child we’re talking about!”
“There were a few possibilities, and I just do not know which name his mother has settled upon. I have been away from the house for over two months now, besides a brief stop here before coming to you, and I have had other things on my mind. And not much rest. So, no, I do not know.”
The witch threw him a disgusted glare.
He took it without flinching. Only the drumming of his fingers stopping to dig into his arm told her he disliked her reaction.
