The Promised Lie

by Christopher Nuttall

  And then one of the women looked around and saw him.

  And screamed.

  ***

  Isabella hadn’t found it too hard to follow the village women – one elderly woman and three younger girls – down the muddy path to the clearing. It had been harder to find a hiding place that wouldn’t be exposed, the moment the meeting – whatever it was – came to an end. Old memories flickered through her mind, vague statements from some of her instructors about forbidden rites performed by banned cults. She was no expert – only full-fledged Inquisitors were told everything – but the dancing reminded her of some of the warning signs. There were quite a few spells that could only be performed naked, yet almost all of them were frowned upon even when they weren’t banned.

  She had to call on all of her discipline to keep from walking forward, stripping off her clothes and joining the dance. It called to her, called to her in a manner too strong to ignore. And yet, she knew she had to ignore it. It was a siren, luring her to her doom. Whatever they were doing was strong, dangerous ... and unknown. Spells that should have revealed any compulsions in the area were detecting nothing, nothing at all. She kept one eye closed as she watched the dancers, trying to determine the patterns in their movements ...

  ... And then she heard someone stumbling through the undergrowth.

  Isabella stared, stumbling to her feet. Big Richard was there, staggering haphazardly towards the clearing. Her mind raced. Was he drunk? What was he doing in the forest at night? Had he been called by the dancers? Had they reached out and lured him to the bonfire? She glanced behind him, trying to see if the others had followed him. But she couldn’t see anyone. The forest seemed deserted.

  The dancers screamed. A handful fell out of the pattern, but the remainder kept moving, their chanting taking on a more ominous tone. Isabella couldn’t understand it, yet the general intent was clear enough – and unfriendly. She could feel its power brushing against her lightly, as if she were being touched by an invisible man. Or an invisible insect ... she shaped a spell in her mind as the chanting grew louder, then snapped off a stinging hex at Big Richard’s behind. He yelped, startled out of the trance. Isabella allowed herself a smirk at his surprise, then leaned forward.

  “Come on,” she shouted. She could hear things moving through the undergrowth, coming closer. “This way.”

  Big Richard stared at her for a long second, then started to run towards her. His face was dazed, as if he were still feeling the after-effects of the call. She didn’t really blame him for falling prey to it. The call had been so intense that she knew she would have fallen too, if she hadn’t been trained to resist mental influence. Even so, it had been a very close run thing.

  She heard someone shouting behind them as they turned to run. It didn’t sound friendly in the slightest. They’d be chased, of course. The women would be in real trouble if they were caught walking around naked, let alone performing midnight rites. Unless ... she remembered, grimly, the odd expressions on the faces of the villagers. Could it be that the changes in the world had already cowed most of the locals? Very few people dared to go out after dark these days.

  Big Richard stumbled along beside her, weaving unsteadily as he moved. She kept a wary eye on him, noting just how close his hand was to the axe on his belt. He couldn’t be trusted, not if the call had affected him that badly. Her lips twitched with wry amusement. No doubt seeing so many bare chests had affected him too. And ... she stopped herself as she heard something crashing through the undergrowth. It was right on top of them ...

  She turned, just in time to see a small fox spring out of the bushes and hurl itself at them. Big Richard drew his axe in one smooth motion and cut the beast in half, sending blood and guts flying in all directions. Another followed, teeth bared as it leapt through the air; Isabella tried to summon a spell, but the magic refused to gel properly. Big Richard killed it an instant before it could snap at her. She drew her sword and stood at the ready, slicing through a hare as it appeared out of nowhere. Whatever the women had done, it was clear they’d summoned every creature for miles. She could hear more and more wild animals moving towards them.

  “We have to run,” she said.

  “There’s nowhere to run,” Big Richard said. He killed two more foxes, then bit off a curse as a small rabbit sank its teeth into his boot. “We have to fight here!”

  Isabella killed the rabbit, then a snake that made a lunge at her leg. Big Richard was right, she realised as she lashed out again and again. They couldn’t hope to outrun the wild animals. She glanced at the trees, wondering if they could climb to safety. But there were so many animals lunging at them now that she knew it was impossible. She couldn’t even dig the firelighter out of her pocket and start a fire without exposing herself. And she couldn’t think of any other options. A handful of bites would be enough to bring them down.

  “Use some magic,” Big Richard urged. “Do something!”

  “It isn’t working,” Isabella said. Perhaps if she clambered up a tree ... no, that would mean abandoning him to a very unpleasant death. Maybe if they headed back to the clearing ... she shook her head, dismissing the thought. The women – whoever they were, whatever they were – were unlikely to welcome their uninvited guests. Surrender would just get them killed quickly – or worse. “Is there any way back to the village?”

  The attack seemed to pause, just for a second, as light flared behind them. Isabella turned carefully, keeping one eye on the watching animals, and saw Mother Lembu holding up a lamp. It glowed with an eerie yellow light, driving the animals back. The light felt welcoming and yet ... cold ... at the same time.

  “Come with me,” Mother Lembu ordered. “Quickly.”

  Isabella glanced at Big Richard, then hurried after Mother Lembu. The animals followed, keeping their distance from the lamp. Isabella kept looking behind her, just to make sure they were staying back. It crossed her mind that they might be walking into a trap, but they didn’t seem to have any choice. Besides, it was hard to believe that Mother Lembu meant them any harm. She had to fight to resist the temptation to return her sword to the scabbard.

  “They won’t come within the circle,” Mother Lembu said, as they reached a small hut, half-hidden within the foliage. A circle of burnt grass had been drawn around the hut, lined with ashes. “The hex sign will keep them away.”

  Isabella allowed herself a moment of relief, but kept her sword at the ready anyway. Beside her, Big Richard held his axe in one hand, ready to strike.

  “Put your weapons away,” Mother Lembu said, as they reached the door. “You must not come into this place bearing weapons.”

  “Oh, I must not?” Big Richard demanded. He shot her a challenging look. “And why should I not?”

  “I could tell you that how you enter this place will determine how you are treated,” Mother Lembu said coolly, “but you will not listen, will you?”

  She reached out, as quick as a snake, and tapped Big Richard on the forehead. He staggered, then fell to the ground and began to snore. Isabella jumped back, torn between taking a stab at the ancient woman and doing as she was told. Her natural caution told her to keep her hand on the blade, but ... she didn’t think Mother Lembu meant her any real harm. Slowly, carefully, she returned her sword to the scabbard, silently praying she’d done the right thing.

  She has powers I don’t understand, Isabella told herself, as she followed Mother Lembu into the hut. I may already be at her mercy.

  Mother Lembu gave her a tight smile. “Your friend will be safe enough out there,” she said, dryly. “I just couldn’t allow him to bring a weapon into this place.”

  Isabella looked around, carefully. The hut looked like a typical hedge witch’s establishment, complete with worktable, herbal potions, cauldron and a roaring fire, but ... but it was strange, as if there were parts of it that remained forever at the corner of her eye. It was bright, yet she couldn’t see where the light came from. There were no lanterns, no candles ... not
even any magic lamps. The light seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.

  “I apologise for his conduct,” she managed, finally. It felt hard to talk, as if the words were catching in her throat. “I beg your pardon.”

  “I have a feeling that if you start apologising for him, you’ll never stop,” Mother Lembu said, curtly. “Please, take a seat. I’ll have something for us both to drink in a minute.”

  “I don’t need something to drink,” Isabella said. The words seemed to come easier now. “I need answers.”

  Mother Lembu smiled. “Do you expect me to give you all the answers?”

  “You promised me answers,” Isabella said, as she sat on a stool by the worktable. “Didn’t you?”

  “I told you you’d get some answers,” Mother Lembu agreed. “What did you make of the sabbat?”

  Isabella hesitated. “The dancing? What is it?”

  “An invocation,” Mother Lembu said. She took a kettle from the stove and poured something purple into two earthen mugs. “A summoning. A calling. A ... a prayer to forces higher than ourselves.”

  She passed Isabella one of the mugs, then sat down on the workbench. “I see Kingsley made it back to the city,” she added, after a moment. “The dice said he’d make it home, but the dice often mislead. They don’t lie, you see, yet it’s easy to see patterns that aren’t there.”

  “Foretelling the future is illegal,” Isabella said, automatically. She frowned as a thought struck her. She’d always been told that foretelling the future was impossible, but ... why forbid something impossible? It had never been questioned, as far as she knew. “Why ... can you foretell the future?”

  “Anyone can,” Mother Lembu said. She took a sip from her mug. “Drink up, young lady. I have quite a bit to show you.”

  Isabella looked at her. “Answers?”

  “As many as you can handle right now,” Mother Lembu assured her. “And maybe a few hints too.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “You’ve been taught to look at the world in a specific way,” Mother Lembu said, putting her mug to one side. “I’ll show you a different way of looking at it.”

  Isabella took a sip of her drink. It tasted of blackberries. Alcoholic? She tested it with a spell, but the results were inconclusive. Part of her knew she should be careful, yet her instincts were insisting that she was in no real danger. But Mother Lembu clearly had power, even if it wasn’t a power Isabella understood. She forced herself to listen, hoping for answers that actually made sense. Perhaps, just perhaps, she was on the verge of solving the mystery.

  “The world has changed in the last five years,” Mother Lembu said. “You do understand that, don’t you?”

  “I’ve seen signs of change,” Isabella said, neutrally. “What is happening?”

  “The rules are changing too,” Mother Lembu said, dryly. “You need to put aside your preconceptions and listen.”

  She rose and walked around the workbench, stopping in front of the collection of herbs and bark. “Dandelion. Nettles. Elm Bark. All smashed up” – she carried the collection over to the bench – “and boiled in water. What does that tell you?”

  Isabella frowned. It wasn’t any alchemical concoction she recognised. Indeed, all of the listed ingredients were alchemically inert. A magician might be able to infuse some magic into the brew, but it wouldn’t do very much. Perhaps an energy potion? Or a simple way to store magic for later use?

  “It isn’t a potion recipe,” she said, finally. “A base liquid?”

  Mother Lembu pointed a finger at her. “You’re still thinking like a sorcerer,” she said. “You need to think like a wise woman.”

  Isabella snorted. “No one has ever considered me wise.”

  “You’re young,” Mother Lembu said. “An aged woman is wise.”

  Perhaps here, Isabella thought.

  Her lips twitched. She’d met a number of elderly women in the Golden City who’d been unable to comprehend that their day was long gone. They’d controlled High Society with a ruthlessness that daunted even the Grand Sorcerer, crushing any younger upstarts who dared to challenge their rules. It had meant social death to go against them, Isabella recalled. She would probably have been driven out if her father hadn’t been so powerful. The silly biddies had long since forgotten what was important.

  But that might not be true of a wise woman in a forest village, where there was no way to hide from reality. Someone who survived long enough to have grandchildren – perhaps even great-grandchildren – in a world where men and women rarely lived past fifty could reasonably be assumed to know a thing or two. Mother Lembu’s age would give her words credence, particularly as she was too old to marry or bear children. Although ... Isabella reminded herself, once again, that she had no idea how old Mother Lembu actually was. She might well be a great deal younger than she looked.

  “You think in terms of commanding the world,” Mother Lembu said. “But if you went to the lord’s manor and commanded him, what do you think it would get you?”

  Isabella shivered. Her father had a fishpond he’d filled with people who’d annoyed him, once upon a time. A peasant who tried to command a lord on the Summer Isle would be lucky if he was merely beaten to within an inch of his life. One approached the powerful with politeness and tact, knowing that the courtesy would not be returned. It seemed that one of the rules that wasn’t going to change was the assertion that shit always rolled downhill.

  “Nothing good,” she said, finally. “What are you doing instead?”

  “Making an offering,” Mother Lembu said. She started to smash the plants together, crushing them in a pestle. “Showing due respect to the powers that be.”

  “I see,” Isabella said, slowly. It reminded her of what Emetine had said, after she’d tried to kill Reginald. “And this would be female magic?”

  “Of a sort, although there’s no reason men can’t use it,” Mother Lembu said. “It’s more of a way to bargain with the world, rather than forcing it to obey.”

  Isabella frowned. “And if you’re bargaining with the world,” she said, “what are you offering it?”

  “It depends,” Mother Lembu said. She finished grinding the ingredients and reached for a pot. “Respect, at times.”

  She glanced at Isabella and winked. “Think of it as a bribe, if you like,” she said. “Or simply a way of doing things. You wouldn’t try to get across a ravine by jumping off the cliff, would you? Or play cards on a chessboard?”

  “I suppose not,” Isabella said. “But why are the rules changing?”

  Mother Lembu hung the pot over the fire, then reached for a long iron spoon. “The Empire is gone,” she said. “And now there is no one hunting those who practice the old ways.”

  Isabella felt cold. The Empire had endured for over a thousand years, perhaps longer. She’d always been told that history records dating back more than five hundred years or so simply weren’t reliable, that there was no way to be entirely sure what had happened so long ago. A series of wars – and population relocations – had obliterated whatever traces remained of the pre-empire world, save for a handful of forbidden zones, which the Inquisitors had prevented anyone from visiting until recently. Now ...

  She took a breath. “How old?”

  “Thousands of years old,” Mother Lembu said, seriously. “And, over those years, a handful of the old folk survived to wait for their time to come again.”

  Isabella leaned forward. “And now?”

  “And now word is spreading,” Mother Lembu said. “The rules are changing. Those girls you saw are learning to harness their power. Some will do good, some will do evil ... some will lose themselves completely, surrendering to the forces they unleashed. And others will be so terrified of the changes that they will bend the knee to anyone who offers protection.”

  She looked up. “Your young man is fighting the wrong battle,” she added. “And he doesn’t see the war.”

  “The prince isn’t my young man,” Isab
ella said, hotly.

  “You like him,” Mother Lembu said. “Is there something wrong with liking him?”

  Isabella felt her cheeks heat. “Yeah,” she said, reluctantly. She wasn’t sure where the sudden change in topic had come from. “I ... I cannot afford to let myself like him.”

  “You do like him,” Mother Lembu said. “Why don’t you want to admit it?”

  Isabella gritted her teeth. Reginald was attractive. And smart. And better than most of the princes and sorcerers she’d met in her life. He wasn’t scared of her, nor did he treat her as a freak. Honesty compelled her to admit she could do a great deal worse. But ...

  “My comrades would think less of me if I was openly feminine,” she said, finally. It was true, unfortunately. She could no more court the prince – or be courted by him – than she could wear a dress on a battlefield. She couldn’t afford to let them see her as a woman first, rather than a swordswoman and sorceress. “Does that answer your question?”

  “Perhaps it answers one of yours,” Mother Lembu said. “You’re hiding your true nature.”

  Isabella felt a hot flash of anger. “Do you think I should walk around naked?”

  “I think you should know yourself, first and foremost,” Mother Lembu said. She took the pot off the fire and poured the contents into a sieve, straining the liquid. “The rules are changing.”

  “Into what?”

  “You’ll see,” Mother Lembu said. “I’m not going to give you all the answers.”

  Isabella felt her hand drop to her sword. “Then give me something I can use!”

  “That is what I am going to do,” Mother Lembu said, patiently. Her voice hardened, suddenly. “And I strongly advise you not to draw your weapon in here.”

  Isabella looked around. The light had dimmed. The shadows seemed to have grown darker, somehow. She could swear she could see things hiding within the darkness, teeth and claws and ... and ... she forced her hand to let go of the sword, feeling shivers running down her spine. Whatever protections surrounded the hut were incredibly dangerous. She doubted she’d survive if they lashed out at her.