Page 79 of A Weave of Lies
“You know what?” Semras spat out. “You’re right. Let’s get this over with.”
“… Good. I will brief you in the study. Afterward, you will inspect the crime scene and the corpse. It is not far from here by carriage.”
The front door clicked open, and Sin’Sagar came back inside with two servants carrying their luggage.
Velten hailed him. “There you are, Master Steward. Walk us to the study. I need you to prepare a few things for me before we leave. We are concluding this investigation tonight.”
The gentleman bowed, and then opened the way. Nails digging into her palms, Semras silently followed behind. For once, she agreed with the inquisitor.
After tonight, they were done with each other.
Chapter 17
MasterSin’Sagarledthemup to the first floor and down a hallway, then stopped in front of two tall, heavy doors.
Inquisitor Velten flicked his hand toward them. “Wait inside,” he ordered.
Snorting, Semras slipped past the wooden doors and stepped inside the study room.
Bookcases lined the walls from top to bottom, hiding most of their dark blue shades and gilded trims. Covered in papers, a desk sat in front of a curtained window. Two sconces flanked it, lit with the same eerie gas light she had seen on the lampposts outside. They drew long shadows from the piles of books littering the floor.
Behind her, the doors closed with a soft click.
Semras hummed, unimpressed by what she was seeing. Either the inquisitor had left it in a hurry the last time he worked here, or he was a very disorganized man.
A closer inspection of the bookcases revealed them to be filled with law books, accounts of trials, and treatises on witches andthe Fey. Semras ran her fingers across the spines, then grabbed one out of curiosity.
It was a report, penned by Velten’s hand five years ago. With morbid curiosity, she read it.
‘March 1794, town of Barletri, south of Morstal Woods, locality of Moramar,’it began.‘Local authorities had reported six isolated incidents of mutilated toes amidst the villagers.’
Eyes stuck to the pages, Semras walked to sit on the cushioned chair set in front of the desk.
‘All victims were under six months of age,’Velten had written.‘Venator Knight-Brothers Sir Ulrech var Hesser and Sir Jaqh de Bauron were dispatched to protect them until the culprit could be identified.’
Six-month-old children … Her heart dropped with trepidation. She hadn’t needed to read the word ‘duende’ on the next line to know such horror had been the work of the Fey.
The little gnomes that lived in the walls of old homes were considered harmless by most Deprived folks, but they wereSeelie—loathsome fey that would break their victims apart to make them fit the mould they’d arbitrarily decided upon. And since newborn children spent all their time sleeping on their backs, these duendes had, by all appearances, decided young children didn’t … didn’t need their toes.
Semras snapped the book closed, took a deep breath, then reopened it to skim-read to the end of the case.
‘The Fey Court of duendes was located in the local baronet’s mansion. Per my orders, the building was destroyed by fire to ensure the eradication of the fey infestation. A complaint from its owner was then recorded by the Inquisition a few minutes later. The case was argued in front of Tribunal Torqedan and Tribunal Pajov in August 1794 and formally dismissed with prejudice.’
A loose note had been tucked between the pages, marked with,‘Cael, read this. Told you I could get away with burning down that pompous lord’s house; so stop haranguing me about what an inquisitor should and should not do.’
Irritated, Semras shoved the book back onto its shelf. For a moment there, she had genuinely thought Velten had resorted to arson to prevent more children from falling victim to the Fey, but his note made clear he had only done so to prove a point to this ‘Cael.’ The bastard cared only for himself; he had made it clear when he couldn’t even tell her the name of his own baby.
She’d been jealous of Nimue before; now, she only felt pity for her. Velten didn’t care about her. He hadn’t even gone to see her or their child and clearly wasn’t in a hurry to rectify that.
… Not that their private affairs concerned her.
Shaking her thoughts away, Semras approached the desk. Halfway completed, two reports lay on top of the papers scattered there. The first one recorded the sentencing of a bleakwitch in the Anderas Mountains—the same one that had killed Velten’s friend, she recalled.
On the other report lying beneath it, Semras caught sight of the words ‘Sir Jaqh de Bauron’ and ‘bereaved for the loss of’ before she turned her eyes away. That one was a death notice. It felt disrespectful to read something so clearly not meant for her eyes.
That was how her attention fell on the little ball of paper.
It lay on the floor, crumpled next to a trashcan by the desk’s side—and it had her name on it. Brow furrowing, she snatched and unrolled it.
