The Witch Awakening (Book One of the Landers Saga)

by Karen Nilsen

  "What was that?"

  He cleared his throat. "I was just saying it seems a shame that Whitten should be tied to her and she to him if she's not in her right mind."

  "Yes, well, we all have different burdens."

  "It does seem grounds for annulment, though. After all, he needs an heir if the Landers are to have a legitimate leader."

  Safire choked behind me, and I tightened my grip on her arm and hoped she got the message to stay quiet. "And she needs a husband to protect her from those who would abuse her title or her lands."

  "I would protect her."

  "Any man of honor would. And how long before you sail for the SerVerin Empire?" It was a bald hint, but I wasn't in the mood for subtlety.

  His stance became more guarded as he shoved his clenched hands in his pockets. "A week."

  "Excellent." I smiled, noting his discomfort. He hadn't forgotten our discussion then about him going to the SerVerin court and worming information out of the Emperor in exchange for me keeping his dirty ledgers out of the council‘s hands. Sometimes young men became so convinced of their invincibility that they didn't take blackmail seriously and needed occasional reminders.

  "You'll make a fine ambassador, I'm certain,” I said. “All the good ones have been known for their ability to tell only the truths the listener wants to hear. It's a rare talent." Safire snorted.

  "Thank you, sir," he muttered, thankful as a muzzled dog.

  "Have a good journey, then. Merius had a rough passage from what I understand, but he made it. The sea only punishes those who can take it." I ended with the old sailors' adage.

  "That's what I've heard." He kicked viciously at a paving stone.

  "Good night, then."

  "Good night, sir. Safire." He nodded a brief acknowledgment, his eyes never leaving her. Most unhealthy, such fierce lust for a woman who hated him. That was what I wanted to tell him, but I was not in the habit of giving paternal advice, particularly to a man whom I found more and more reprehensible each time I encountered him.

  I led Safire away; when I looked around briefly at the corner, I saw him still standing there, watching us. "Wait," Safire said then as she suddenly stooped to pluck something up from the pavement.

  "What's that?" I demanded.

  "My portfolio." She clutched it to her chest. "I dropped it when I got away from him."

  "What about the coin? Your sister said you had some coin."

  "He took it, the thieving toad."

  "He took it?" I glanced back again, but Peregrine had vanished around the bend.

  "I reckon he thought it would keep me from escaping, not having any coin of my own."

  "I suppose. Well, if he hadn't taken it, I would have."

  Her eyes flew up, examined me for a moment. "Yes, I suppose you would. You and he are just alike, using others as your chess pieces."

  "Be still, you ungrateful wench. It's ridiculous, a woman with coin. You're lucky some thief didn't leave you dead in the street."

  "Ungrateful?" she scoffed. "And what have I to be grateful for where you're concerned? You arranged to have Merius sent away on a dangerous mission, you tried to coerce me with threats to my father and sister, you married me off to a drunkard when I was incapable . . . I wouldn't even have been in that dive for Peregrine to find tonight, but for you and your manipulations. No, sir, I agree with you. I am a most decidedly ungrateful wench."

  I shook her arm. "I told you to be still, lest I cut out your tongue. I didn't abandon my dinner and warm bed to listen to your chatter. You were better mute."

  "If my company's so distressing to you, you can always leave me here, you know." She tried to wrench her arm from my grasp then and make a dash for it, but I was ready for her. I whirled her around until she was dizzy and pushed her against the nearest wall, both my hands on her shoulders.

  "Don't try that again," I rasped.

  She tried to hit me in the chest with the portfolio, but I moved my hands down her arms so all she could do was flail about.

  "Let me go!"

  "No."

  "Why not?" She paused a moment in her struggles. "I'm no more use to you."

  "My dear, you never were any use to me. At your best, you were a mere nuisance. Now you've become a misfortune, and soon you'll likely be a catastrophe."

  "Good. You deserve a catastrophe. What do I have to do to become one?"

  "When Merius dies in the Marennese mountains because that fool Herrod made a strategic error, you'll be a catastrophe. Now, come with me."

  She swallowed and shook her head. "I'm not going back to that House."

  "You'll do what I tell you."

  She lifted her white face and looked directly at me. "It's your fault he's there, you know."

  "You little bitch."

  "So leave me here. How hard is that?"

  "No, you're coming with me. You're a member of my House now, and you'll not be wandering the streets, sullying the Landers name in the muck. If by some miracle, Merius returns, you'll not be free to dig your claws in him again." I began to tow her after me, taking such long strides that she almost had to run to keep up.

  "He'll kill you," she panted. "He'll kill you for this and go to the gallows and . . . Is that what you want? To be killed by your own son?"

  I drew up short. "Get this straight in your scheming head right now . . ."

  "I'm not scheming," she screamed, catching me off guard as she hit my arm with her portfolio. More surprised than hurt, I lost my grip on her, and she made a run for it. After twenty yards or so, she tripped on the curb and fell to her knees. I stumbled after her. She attempted to get up again but collapsed after I grasped her shoulder.

  She clutched her hands around her legs and curled her head down so that someone might have mistaken her for a tightly wrapped bundle of clothes left on the street if she hadn't been wailing like a banshee. I tried to wrench her to her feet again, but all that did was make her wail louder. "Leave me alone!"

  I glanced up and down the street. Empty, though I couldn't imagine it would stay that way for long. She must have woken up half of Calcors with that scream. "Shut up," I hissed. "I mean it."

  She shook her head, her shoulders heaving. "How could," she hiccupped, "could Mer-Merius come from you? You and that cold thing at the Hall?"

  "Stop blathering presumptions. What can you know about my son from sharing his bed a few nights?"

  She looked up at me, her eyes red-rimmed and accusing. "I know he's like you in many ways, so many ways that it hurts to look at you because I'm afraid that you are what he's to become. But he's kind, almost to a fault, and warm, and I don't see a bit of kindness or warmth in you. I did at first, and earlier tonight, when you pushed me behind you, away from Peregrine, but now you're just cruel." She began to sob again, of course, deep, racking sobs that rattled her frail ribcage.

  I crossed my arms. "Get up, Safire." She didn't move. "Get up now, unless you want me to drag you."

  "I don't care what you do."

  "Stubborn," I muttered, walking away before I yielded to the strong urge to reach down and shake her. She had dropped her portfolio near a puddle, and I picked it up. I flipped through it. The light from a nearby lamp flickered across the sketches, and from what I could see of them, they weren't bad. I knew little about drawing, considering it a waste of time, but I supposed it had its uses. At least she had made some coin selling her work, which was better than Merius with his poetry.

  "What are you doing?" She glanced up, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "What are you doing? You can't look at those--they're mine." She leapt to her feet and snatched the portfolio from me. Several of the sketches scattered across the cobbles. She raced about, frantically gathering them up before they blew away.

  As soon as I could reach her, I grabbed her arm. I picked up the last sketch and tucked it in my cloak pocket with one hand, keeping a firm grip on her with the other. Without a word, I started striding up the street, and she was forced to follow.

&nb
sp; Chapter Nineteen--Safire

  I half ran behind Mordric, my legs no longer mine but two foreign limbs that moved on another's volition as if I were part marionette. In my mind, I fought this, but my body was exhausted and didn't care anymore as long as it found a soft bed tonight. My feet had no more feeling than blocks of wood as they thudded over the paving stones--I had trodden in a puddle earlier, and the cold water had soaked my slippers.

  At some point, Mordric either grew tired himself or realized that he was half dragging me, for he slowed down, his grip loosening slightly on my wrist. That arm was all over bruises by now, what with Peregrine yanking it and then Mordric grabbing it. My stomach growled, and I realized one more reason why I was miserable at the moment. Peregrine had taken me from the tavern before I'd had the chance to eat. The barmaid had been going to bring me some stew, and it had smelled so nice from where I'd been sitting, with carrots and potatoes and beef broth, and I hadn't eaten all day because I'd been too busy selling drawings in the square . . . I had made such a lovely pile of coin today, and now it was all gone to a man who had kidnapped me and planned to do far worse things to me. I told myself sternly I should be grateful that I was still alive and mostly unmolested, but all I could think about was that delicious stew and my hard-earned coin, both gone forever. To my dismay, tears began to swell under my already swollen eyelids, and soon I was sobbing again.

  Mordric drew up short and shook me. "For God's sake, be quiet before you wake the square. What the hell is it now?"

  The last thing I wanted to do was talk to him, but I found the words flowing out of me, as unbidden as the tears. "He took my coin. I earned it, damn it, and he took it. And I want-wanted to save it. Save it for Mer-Merius and me, for when he returns. Like a dowry, since all Father left for mine was the swamp and fallow fields . . . I wanted us to have something, and now it's gone to that toad. He took it all at the point of his da-dagger . . ."

  "He would have taken far more from you at the point of his dagger if he'd had the chance," Mordric said. "Ponder that, my dear--perhaps it will make you more grateful in the future, though I doubt it. Your sort never learns."

  We reached the well in the square. Feeling his hand relax on my arm, I tried to escape one last time by lunging away from him. However, my legs buckled under me, and I fell against the side of the well, the rocks tearing my sleeve.

  "Damned witch," Mordric exclaimed. "I'll throw you down this well if you don't stand still. Now get up."

  I attempted to stand but fell back again. The damp edges of the cobbles in the square caught the lantern light in thin lines, and these lines began to spiral together in dizzying patterns before my eyes. I blinked, but the cobbles still swirled. Mordric jerked me up then, and I toppled forward. He swore and grabbed me before I hit the ground. "What's wrong with you? Oh, hell, you're bleeding."

  "I am?" Then I felt the trickling sensation on my elbow, glanced down, and noticed that I had a long cut running down the length of my upper arm. "It doesn't hurt," I said stupidly. "Why doesn't it hurt?" Then I slipped away in a dead faint, my new talent.

  I came to as someone tipped my head back and poured liquor down my throat. I coughed and sputtered over the fiery taste, opening my eyes. Mordric released my neck, straightened, and corked a silver hip flask before he pocketed it. "When did you last eat?"

  I shook my head and tried to speak--it took a couple of attempts before I managed, "I don't remember."

  Selwyn had appeared from somewhere while I was unconscious, hovering around the edge of my vision. He shifted from foot to foot and started to speak several times, each time catching Mordric's expressionless look and subsiding. Oddly enough, I found his presence comforting. A familiar figure, he was a bit of unavoidable reality. His aura, usually a clear brown with steady dark blue lines laced around it, was muddy with confusion tonight, the lines stretched with the effort of holding in all the questions he dared not ask for fear of Mordric‘s wrath, I supposed. I focused on him--as long as I could see him, I couldn't faint again.

  "Selwyn," Mordric barked.

  "Yes, sir?"

  "Do you have coin?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Go to the nearest tavern and get her some bread."

  "No," I protested. "I'll faint again."

  They both looked at me. "Is she drunk?" I heard Selwyn whisper.

  Mordric shook his head. "Just get the bread. Ebner's bringing the coach, so meet us back here. And be quick about it. I'd like to see my bed sometime tonight."

  I watched Selwyn until he disappeared down a side street. The tears began again as soon as he was out of sight. My one anchor to reality, gone. I wailed, my face hot, my head aching, my eyes on fire, but still I couldn't stop. I should have run dry by now; there could only be so many tears in one body. It was so stupid, really. Why couldn't I stop? I sniffled and closed my eyes and blew my nose in my ruined handkerchief, but all to no avail. If anything, the tears flowed faster. Perhaps this was how the seas were made--one lost woman crying for all eternity.

  There was a rattling on the cobbles, and a red coach and four pulled up. The horses, the great wheels towered over me, and I recalled briefly what it was like to be a small child again and feel the fascinated terror of a world designed for giants. Then Mordric lifted me into the coach and deposited me on one of the seats like a sack of potatoes. He tossed my portfolio on the seat beside me, and I clutched for it.

  "Thank you," I sobbed.

  He paused, looked at me sharply a moment, one corner of his mouth twitching in the light of the coach lanterns. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a perfectly folded handkerchief. "Here." He handed it to me, and I gaped. All the edges met without a wrinkle--never had I seen such a neat job. I was afraid to use it. However, necessity demanded I use something, so I succumbed, still marveling at its precise folds. My father had balled his handkerchiefs up into wrinkled messes, and I had assumed all men were the same. Merius always seemed to have just lost his handkerchief whenever it was needed, and in the few days I was in his chamber, he had mislaid several other personal items in the masses of papers and books that surrounded him. I thought suddenly how this absent-mindedness must have grated on Mordric, who obviously took order seriously.

  I blew my nose again as delicately as possible. "Do you have any water?"

  "Will you stop bawling like a barn cat?"

  "I'll try."

  He brought me a large dipper from the well. I grasped it and gulped down every last drop of water, only then realizing how thirsty I was. He filled the dipper again and took it away after I'd drained it a second time. Then he climbed into the coach and sat across from me. His eyes were intent gleams in the shadows, and I grew uncomfortable under that unblinking gaze. "Elsa can see to your arm when we return," he said suddenly.

  I glanced down at the bloodied edges of my ripped sleeve, the beaded dark line of the cut against my pale skin. "It doesn't hurt."

  "It should. It looks deep."

  "I'm fine." Although I had never been able to heal myself for some reason, I could sometimes separate myself from minor pain. At this moment, my wet feet were bothering me far more than the bruises and cut on my arm. I suddenly thought of Father and was ashamed of my small complaints.

  "Has there been any change in Father's condition?" I asked, knowing the answer but hoping for a miracle anyway.

  "No."

  I sighed and stared down at my hands twisting Mordric's handkerchief into knots. Selwyn returned then and clambered into the coach. He sat beside me, and I grabbed my portfolio before it slid to the floor. He carried a long, narrow loaf of bread, the good sort that was hard and crusty on the outside but soft on the inside and stayed fresh for days. Mordric leaned out the window and said something to the driver. With a jerk, the coach started to move.

  Selwyn held out the loaf as Mordric settled back in his seat. "Here, sir."

  "What do I want it for? Her, Selwyn--it's for her."

  "Oh, right. Sorry." Selwyn pulled a dagger from
somewhere, the blade edge glinting as he sawed the bread into generous hunks. "Here."

  I took the first hunk and tore off a piece, only then realizing how hungry I was. Even without butter, the bread was delicious, the best thing I'd ever eaten. I gnawed at the crust, wishing for some more water to wash it down. Soon it was all gone, and I brushed the crumbs from my lap and glanced outside. We were moving through the country around Calcors now, stars and bits of blue-black sky shining through the dark lace of the leaves and branches. The sea cliffs would soon come into view, with the long expanse of the ocean glowing faintly even on this moonless night.

  The warm weather still jarred me, even now several days after I'd awoken from my fit. It had been a blustery March when I could last remember, and suddenly it was late May. The evening, although cool, had the damp, sweet smell of early summer, with all the flowers in bloom and gentle rains. Time had folded for me, bringing two disparate edges together and tucking the mysterious middle away in a deep crease. In my mind, Father had been well up until a few days ago, and the fact that he had lain silent and still in that sickbed for two months had yet to impress its reality on my shock-numbed sensibilities. It only seemed a week or so ago since I'd last seen Merius, and I couldn't rid myself of the feeling that he would suddenly reappear, laugh away all this madness, and carry me off. I sighed then and turned from the window. Mordric had said Merius was deep in the Marennese mountains, that he could die there. Neither Merius nor I had mentioned the possibility that he could die--it hadn't seemed like a real possibility when he was right there, alive and warm and breathing beside me. Now it seemed real, terribly real. Mordric had been right to call me a little bitch for saying what I said. It was his fault Merius was in Marenna, but it was also my fault--Merius wouldn't have risked himself if it hadn't been for me and his need to prove his father wrong. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.

  I glanced at Mordric, who was only a vague, silent shadow. If I could have seen him or Selwyn, I might not have been so bold, but I was desperate to know. "Has Merius sent me any more letters?" I blurted out finally.