Witch Hunter (17 page)

these three days as well. It’s best to be done before the

energy starts to wane.’

I knew some of this already. Witch hunters are always

sent out during the dark moon. Not just to look for seers;

it’s also an ideal time to find witches and wizards performing

dark spells and curses. They work best during this time, too.

Then it occurs to me.

‘They’ll be looking for us, won’t they?’ I say.

‘Undoubtedly,’ Nicholas replies. ‘But I’ve taken every

precaution. Veda’s home has a protective spell on it. No

one will be able to see it, nor us once we’re inside. Using

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Fifer’s help, I’ve extended that spell so we can walk through

the woods, virtually undetected.’

‘Why take the risk?’ I say. ‘Isn’t there another way to

get there? One where we don’t have to walk?’ It’s clear

he’s having trouble with that himself. He takes slow,

cumbersome steps, clutching John’s arm for support.

Unlike George, that’s not because of the dark, I know.

‘There are ways to use magic for travel,’ Nicholas

says. ‘Lodestones, primarily, though they are few and far

between, not to mention extremely difficult to procure.

People have died for a lot less.’

‘Died?’ I raise my eyebrows.

‘Yes. Like from an excess of curiosity,’ Fifer mutters.

John shoots her a look. She sticks her tongue out at him.

‘Lodestones are formed when lightning strikes certain

types of minerals,’ Nicholas continues. ‘Typically they

explode, which is why they’re so difficult to find. But

sometimes a wizard will attract the lightning himself and

try to hold the mineral intact as it hits. Perhaps you can

guess what happens next.’

‘I can?’

John nudges me and makes an exploding motion with

his free hand.

I clap my hand over my mouth, stifling a laugh.

‘It’s not funny,’ Fifer snaps.

‘No,’ John agrees. ‘But what else do you expect when you

play with lightning?’

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Nicholas gives an indulgent chuckle that turns into

a horrible, hacking cough. John and Fifer exchange a

worried glance.

‘Quite right,’ Nicholas finally manages. ‘But there are

other restrictions as well. A single lodestone can only be

used once, and by two people at most. We’d need six to

manage the trip here and back. I don’t think I’ve come

across six of them in my lifetime.’ He smiles at me. ‘Don’t

worry, Elizabeth. You’re safe with us.’

We continue walking, the five of us falling silent. The only

sound is that of leaves and twigs crackling beneath our feet.

It’s just as well. I don’t feel like talking anyway. I’m nervous

about meeting this seer. Worried about what she might see.

Afraid of what she might say.

It’s almost a certainty she’ll name me as a witch hunter.

To be found out that way, in a roomful of vengeful

Reformists…what would happen then? I’ve got a few ideas,

none of them good. And I have nothing to defend myself

with. No knife, no ax, not even that tiny three-pronged

fork. George took them all.

Still, I’ve been in worse situations and come out ahead.

There’s no reason to think this will be any different. So I try

to relax. Tilt my head back, watch the sky. It’s clear tonight,

full of a thousand stars. I watch them as I walk, searching

for constellations I know. It takes a minute, but eventually

I’m able to make out a few.

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First, I see Cygnus. He’s a swan but is actually shaped

like a giant cross. Easy to recognise. Left of that is Pegasus,

the winged horse. He looks like a giant crab. Above him is

Andromeda. She’s the girl who was chained to a rock, a

sacrifice for her mother’s arrogance. Above Andromeda

is her mother, Cassiopeia. Her constellation is simply five

stars in the shape of a W. Caleb told me it’s meant to depict

her punishment. Because of what she did to Andromeda,

the gods tied Cassiopeia to a chair and banished her to the

heavens. She’s stuck in the sky, forever.

I feel a hand on my arm, pulling me firmly but gently to

one side.

‘Careful,’ John says. ‘You almost walked into a tree.’

‘Oh,’ I say, feeling foolish. ‘Thank you.’

‘Stargazing?’ He falls into step beside me.

‘A little.’

He nods. ‘I guess you didn’t do much of that at court,

did you?’

‘Not really,’ I say. It isn’t true, but I know what he means.

In Malcolm’s court, it was never a good idea to show an

interest in stars. Because knowing astronomy might mean

you have an interest in astrology. Charting stars, knowing

the positions of planets, understanding the zodiac…that’s

too closely related to divination. Even if you can’t replicate

a full-scale model of the universe on your ceiling the way

Nicholas can, it’s still forbidden.

Oddly enough, though, Blackwell encouraged it. Part of

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our training as witch hunters included education. Of course,

most of it involved mastering subterfuge, armament, and

the subtle art of poisoning, but there was a softer side,

too. Blackwell was nobly born, highly educated. He had the

best tutors in the kingdom at his disposal, and he brought

them in to teach us art, literature, arithmetic, languages,

geography, and, yes, even astronomy.

When I first went to live with him, this surprised me.

I thought his desire to educate us meant he was interested

in us. That he cared. Eventually I realised that wasn’t the

case. He may have clothed us, fed us, housed us, and

educated us, but we were not his children. We were his

soldiers: indispensable, yet replaceable. He needed us clever

because he needed us alive. But if he lost one of us in

training, he never said a word about it. There’d just be one

less place at the dinner table, and we’d never hear that

person’s name again.

But Caleb said it didn’t matter. He jumped at the chance

to learn. If it weren’t for Blackwell, he never would have

got an education. He studied everything he could, insisted I

did, too. I resented it at first, but now I’m glad. I’m as

educated as any man in the kingdom now. I can’t help

feeling proud of that.

John is still walking beside me, and I realise I haven’t

said anything in a while.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say, finally. ‘For not talking, I mean. I guess

I’m just worried.’

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‘Not at all,’ he says. ‘But you have nothing to be worried

about. Veda is very sweet.’

Sweet? He must be joking. Trying to lighten the mood.

Because I’ve come across my fair share of seers before, and

they were all cantankerous, grouchy, sour, old cats.

I start to reply, but Nicholas’s quiet voice cuts me off.

‘We’re here.’

We’ve reached the edge of the forest, the trees ending in

a clearing. I can just make out a small village in the distance.

‘Somewhere in there, then?’ I whisper, pointing at it.

‘A little closer than that.’ John directs my hand towards

an old stone well about twenty feet away. It’s about three

feet high on one side, but the other side has collapsed and

lies in a broken heap of stones.

‘What, we have to go through it?’ My chest tightens at

the thought of crawling into such a small, dark space.

‘Not quite.’ Nicholas steps up beside me, reaching into

his cloak and pulling out a small object wrapped in cloth.

He unwraps it, peeling away layer after layer until I can see

what’s inside. It’s a stone, one from the well by the looks of

it. He places his hand on top of it.

‘Reveal.’

In an instant, the broken-down well is gone, replaced

by a small house. It’s made from the same rough stone as

the well and like the stone in Nicholas’s hand. The house

is tiny and ramshackle, but it’s got a small garden out back,

along with a pen filled with chickens and a single tiny

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pig. It’s so quiet I can hear him snorting as he roots around

in the mud.

‘Fantastic,’ George murmurs. ‘I tell you, I never get tired

of watching him do that.’

A concealment spell is very difficult magic. It calls

for a strong enchantment on not just one object, but two:

the thing being concealed as well as the thing that links

the concealed object to its illusion. Most wizards don’t

have the ability to execute a spell like that. If Nicholas is

cursed – dying, even – and can still manage it…

I’m suddenly wishing for those weapons again.

‘I’ll let her know we’re here,’ Nicholas says. ‘Stay here

until I call for you.’

He walks to the narrow wooden front door and scratches

a soft knock. After a moment the door opens and Nicholas

disappears inside. Minutes pass. I’m starting to get fidgety

when Nicholas finally comes back out. He crooks his finger,

beckoning us to come inside.

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The house is dimly lit as we enter. A small sitting room,

sparsely furnished. A table in one corner with a couple

of stools, a single bench, a few lit candles scattered on

the surface. On the other side of the room is a fireplace.

There’s wood inside, only it’s not lit. I wrap my arms tightly

around myself.

‘The ritual requires the house to be as cold as possible.’

Nicholas gestures to the dark fireplace. ‘We’ll light it again

after. Come. Meet Veda. You three, wait here.’

He beckons me towards the only other door in the

cottage. It’s open slightly, revealing yet another dimly lit

room. Fifer hops onto the table; George settles on the

bench and pulls out a deck of cards. I glance at John, still

standing beside me. He nods and gives an encouraging

smile.

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Nicholas and I walk into the room, and a woman

approaches us.

‘Avis, this is Elizabeth. Elizabeth, this is Avis. Veda’s

mother.’

Veda’s mother? I take another look at her. She’s got

brown hair tied back in a knot, no grey in it at all. She gives

me a bland smile – no wrinkles around her eyes, either.

She’s twenty-five, if that.

‘And this is Veda,’ Nicholas says. I look around but don’t

see her. ‘Look down,’ he tells me, and I do. Before me stands

a tiny little girl. She looks to be around five years old. My

eyes go round with surprise.

I crouch down to take a better look at her. Long brown

hair, huge brown eyes. She smiles at me, and I notice she’s

missing her two bottom teeth.

‘Hello,’ she pipes. ‘I know you already. I saw you in my

head! I’m glad they finally found you. They kept looking

for some ugly, old lady. But you’re not ugly at all!’

‘Well…thank you,’ I say, and Nicholas laughs.

‘Veda, now that Elizabeth is here, we need you to tell us

what she’s supposed to do.’ It’s a careful choice of words.

Nothing at all about needing me to find something for

him. ‘Can you do that?’

Veda nods.

There’s a single wide bed pushed into the corner of

the room, and next to it is a small table covered with a

clean white cloth. On top is a scrying mirror, surrounded

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by six flickering candles. The elaborate silver frame is dull

and choked with tarnish, but the glass is clear: deep,

black, infinite.

Nicholas takes out five round, flat objects from his cloak

and places one at each corner of the table, the last one in

front of the mirror. Each stone is inscribed with a different

symbol, runes by the looks of it. Finally, he sets down a

small hourglass.

‘Are you ready?’ Nicholas asks Veda.

‘Yes,’ she crows, hopping into a chair.

‘Elizabeth.’ Nicholas turns to me. ‘Please stand back.

Veda shouldn’t be able to see any shadows inside the mirror.’

I move to the far wall of the bedroom, by the window.

Nicholas settles into a chair beside Veda, and Avis hands

him a sheaf of parchment and a pen.

‘We’re going to need absolute silence,’ he tells me.

‘No matter what you hear, you’ve got to remain silent.

Do you understand?’

My stomach gives a little tug of unease. ‘Yes.’

Nicholas clears his throat and begins speaking, reciting

some sort of poem. He repeats it, over and over in a low

monotone. Despite the cold in the room, I feel myself grow

warm and relaxed. It has the same effect on Veda. Her little

head droops forward, nearly touching the table. She sits like