Daughter of Witches: A Lyra Novel (29 page)

Gadrath finished examining the pile and began berating the guards. “Does any of this look like something capable of resisting a god?” he said scornfully. “Look again. You have missed something. No, just that one,” he said as the guards started for Jaren and Ranira as well as Arelnath. “She is the only one who showed any sign of resistance.”

Ranira wanted to sigh with relief, but she did not dare give any outward sign that might direct the Templemen to more fruitful areas. She kept her eyes way from Shandy, watching in silence as the Temple guards searched Arelnath once more. They were very thorough, but there was nothing for them to find.

At last Gadrath was forced to admit that Arelnath had no talisman which might have protected her, however briefly, from his spell. When he finished deriding his guards for their failure, he had the four travelers collected into one group. He looked at them for a moment. “Now, where is the other woman?”

“Other woman?” Arelnath said. “Aren’t two enough for you?”

“You are foolish indeed to mock the High Priest of Chaldon,” Gadrath said. “I mean the black-haired witch who accompanied you at the Inn of Nine Doors. Your mistress, I believe. Where is she?”

Arelnath shrugged. “She died two… no, three nights ago, just as Kaldarin rose.”

“I do not believe you,” Gadrath said. “Where is her body?

“Why should we carry a corpse with us?” Jaren asked. “We left it in a clump of trees where we spent the night.”

Gadrath smiled. He studied each of them in turn, then shook his head. “I still do not believe you. None of you have the ability to cast spells such as the one I neutralized to find you.” He turned. “Guard. Send someone out to find the black-haired witch. She can’t be far. She is probably heading for one of those people we stopped. She would not have gone off alone if she did not expect to find friends.”

One of the guards stepped forward and bowed. “Sir, Revered Lord and Master, there are but eight of us left, and two of us are wounded. There are not enough men for a search of Karadreme Forest.”

“What guards!” Gadrath said. “You cannot fight, you cannot think, and you cannot search. Very well, I will do your work once more.”

He clenched the pendant again and raised his other hand. Slowly he brought his arm down until it was parallel to the ground, pointing.

“That way,” Gadrath said. His lips curved very slightly. “She is indeed the one I want. I can feel the spells she uses to ward herself. Take two men; that will be more than enough. Bring her back here. I will see that her spells cannot detect or harm you.”

The chief of the Templemen bowed again. He turned and snapped out an order. Two other guards stepped forward and all three of them knelt before Gadrath. The High Priest moved a hand above them briefly. His other hand was still wrapped around the black crystal. A moment later, the guards rose and left the clearing, moving rapidly in the direction Gadrath had chosen for them.

N
UMBLY,
R
ANIRA WATCHED THE
Templemen until they were out of sight. She tried to believe that they would lose their way in the forest, or that Mist would hide somehow when they came near. Or perhaps Mist could reach the Trader caravan before the guards caught up with her. After all, it was mid-afternoon, and she had been gone since morning. Ranira glanced at Gadrath.

The High Priest stood staring after his men, his hand closed about his pendant, a confident smile on his face. After a moment, his grasp on the pendant loosened and his hand slid almost reluctantly away from it. Some trick of light made the smoky crystal seem darker than it had a moment before. It was an unpleasant reminder of the black jewels Jaren and Arelnath had smashed. Ranira’s head began to swim. She looked away. As she did, she swayed and nearly fell.

“Unless you want her to bleed to death, someone had better see to that arm,” Arelnath commented.

Arelnath’s guard jerked at her chains to silence her, but not before Gadrath noticed the brief exchange. He turned and studied Ranira for a moment, then snapped an order. Hands pulled the rough cloth of the pilgrim’s robe away from Ranira’s shoulder and placed a crude bandage over the wound, then tied Ranira’s hands behind her once more. The guard seemed deliberately clumsy and the process was painful, but the pain helped Ranira’s head to clear.

Gadrath watched until the guard had finished, his eyes deliberately on Ranira’s unveiled face. Her hands moved automatically to hide herself, but the bonds on her wrists prevented it. Gadrath smiled. Angrily, Ranira lifted her chin and glared back at the High Priest.

“We meet again, my dear,” Gadrath said at last with a mocking bow. “I must congratulate you. You are much more resourceful than I had expected.”

“What do you want?” she demanded.

“There are things I need to know. You and your friends will tell me. Is that not simple?”

Arelnath snorted. Gadrath glanced at her, then looked back at Ranira. “I won’t tell you anything,” she said.

Gadrath smiled again. ‘‘I think you will, Chosen One. You really have no choice. And do not think to lie to me. I am High Priest now. I have powers you would not understand. I will know if you lie.” Gadrath’s right hand rose toward the crystal pendant. As he finished speaking, he looked down; his hand stopped moving abruptly, as if he had only just realized what he was doing. Ranira thought she saw fear move briefly across the High Priest’s face before he looked up again.

“What spells has the foreign witch cast since the High Priest’s death?” Gadrath asked abruptly.

“Spells?”

“There is no need to pretend,” Gadrath said impatiently. “We know that the black-haired woman is a witch. What spells has she cast?”

Ranira stared at him in undisguised confusion. She had expected to be asked about Mist’s purpose in Drinn, about their escape from the city, about where they were going and why, but she had not expected to be asked about magic.

Gadrath frowned, evidently misinterpreting Ranira’s silence. “Will you destroy all Drinn for spite? Answer me!”

“No,” Ranira said. “Why should I help you?”

“You are a child of Drinn. Surely you have felt Chaldon’s restlessness these past few nights. The foreign witch’s spells have disturbed him. If he is not returned to his sleep, he will make a ruin of the city.” Gadrath paused, watching Ranira narrowly, then continued persuasively, “There is a place for you in Drinn, a place of honor, if you will tell me what the witch has done so that I may correct it.”

For a moment, Ranira hesitated. She did not trust Gadrath, but the proposal he made was tempting. Drinn was the only home she had ever known. She looked at Arelnath in silent appeal for guidance. Arelnath raised an eyebrow and shrugged. The gesture said as clearly as words, ‘This is your decision.’ For a moment, Ranira was angry. She looked back at Gadrath. He was watching her avidly. Her anger faded into cold assurance.

“I am no longer of Drinn,” Ranira said. “And I don’t want your place of honor. I don’t trust you. Even if I could, I wouldn’t tell you anything.”

“Well struck, little sister,” Jaren whispered.

Gadrath’s face stiffened. “You are of Drinn whether you know it or not, and when Chaldon wakes, you will share Drinn’s fate! Think on that, and tell me—what has the witch done?”

“I don’t believe you!” Ranira cried. “You don’t care about Drinn. You’re just afraid of what will happen to you if Chaldon wakes.”

“I see I must be more convincing. Chaldon is restless; perhaps a Bride would quiet him. After all, Midwinter Festival is not yet over, and I am High Priest. Shall I complete the rituals now, Chosen One?”

“No!”

“Then you had best tell me what I wish to know, or you will resume your exalted position at once.” Gadrath’s smile was cold and contemptuous. “Do you understand, my dear?”

Ranira froze. She felt trapped and helpless, as she had when Gadrath first spoke to her in the marketplace; when he named her Bride of Chaldon in the inn; when he visited her in the House of Correction. Her head swam, and her shoulder throbbed painfully as she tried to think of some way out. Her shoulder…?

“But the Bride of Chaldon must have an unmarred body. You told me that yourself. I am no longer unmarred,” she said, indicating her injured shoulder.

Gadrath’s face twisted in frustrated rage. Ranira went weak with relief. She had not been sure Gadrath would accept her reasoning; he might have gone through with the ritual in spite of her wounded shoulder. Her relief, though, was short-lived. Gadrath’s eyes narrowed. “For yourself, you are correct, my dear. These others, however, will make a suitable sacrifice to Chaldon, and with his aid I can easily learn what I wish to know. Yes, that will be much easier.”

The High Priest turned and began giving orders to the Templemen. Several of them bowed and left the clearing. Gadrath turned back to the prisoners. “The preparations will take some time, I fear. Make yourselves comfortable for what little time remains to you.”

Shandy whimpered. Gadrath turned away, still smiling coldly. Arelnath and Jaren exchanged glances, then sat down on the ground. After a moment, Ranira joined them. In silence, they watched the Templemen make ready for the sacrifice.

The guards who had left the clearing returned carrying armloads of wood. Under Gadrath’s direction, they built a large mound at one side of the clearing. When he was satisfied with their work, he sent them off again in search of more wood. Soon a second mound was growing beside the first. The work went more slowly as the afternoon wore on and the guards had to go farther from the clearing in search of wood.

Some of them started a small fire of their own for warmth and as a source for the larger fires to come. Daylight was fading when Gadrath at last strolled over to the small, silent group of prisoners. “You have very little time left,” he said. “But perhaps you have reconsidered?”

Ranira looked at Arelnath. She did not think she could stand to see those she cared for burned alive—not again. But Arelnath and Jaren were shaking their heads. “Our oath is given,” Jaren said.

Gadrath’s lip curled. He looked at Ranira. Reluctantly, she too shook her head. If Arelnath and Jaren were willing to go to the flames rather than tell Gadrath what he wished to know, she could not betray them. At least Mist was not here to die with them.

“Such short-sightedness!” Gadrath said mockingly. “But perhaps you do not realize what you are facing. An example might do you good. We shall take the boy first, as soon as the fire has begun to burn well. Think on it.”

He turned abruptly away. Ranira stared after him in horror. Not Shandy! She could feel him trembling behind her. This must be far worse than his worst nightmares of capture by the Templemen. It was certainly worse than anything Ranira had anticipated. Another thought struck her— Shandy had the moonstone! And he had no love for the foreigners. If he gave Gadrath the moonstone in exchange for his life…

The guards were crowded around the first mound of wood. One of them plucked a burning branch from the smaller fire and thrust it into the center of the unlit pile. The wood caught quickly, and two of the Templemen started back toward the prisoners. Ranira’s stomach knotted, but before the guards reached them, Gadrath raised a hand. “Wait.”

For an instant, Ranira thought that this was one more of Gadrath’s tricks. Then she heard the sounds of someone approaching. A moment later, two Templemen appeared, dragging Mist between them. A third guard followed. The Templemen around Ranira grinned and called noisy congratulations as their fellows joined them around the fire. For the moment, the sacrifice was forgotten. Ranira was stunned. Despite Gadrath’s confidence, she had not really expected Mist to be caught. Now her last hope was gone.

The Temple guards fell silent as Gadrath came forward. “Well done!” the High Priest said to Mist’s captors. “You had no difficulty, I see.”

“None, Highest Born,” the chief of the guard said. “She did not even see us until we took hold of her.”

“Excellent.” Gadrath smiled. “And did you discover where she was going?”

“She would not tell us, Highest Born,” the guard said. “However, there are not many possibilities. There is a woodcutter’s hut not far from where we found her, and Cirraq’s troop stopped a Trader caravan in that part of the forest yesterday.”

Gadrath considered the Templeman’s words, then turned to one of the guards. “Go to Cirraq at once. Tell him to burn the caravan. Arrest the Traders and take them to Drinn. Do the same for the woodcutter, just in case.”

“At once, Highest Born.” The guard bowed and left.

The High Priest turned back to Mist. “I do not believe we have met. I am Gadrath, High Priest of Chaldon.”

A slight nod was Mist’s only response. Gadrath eyed her narrowly for a moment. “You have been very clever, but as you see, your plan has failed,” he said. “You will now explain to me why you are trying to destroy Drinn.”

“I am not attempting to destroy Drinn,” Mist said in a low, steady voice. “You have an exaggerated idea of my abilities if you believe I could.”

“I have explained to you that your plans are known,” Gadrath said. “If you do not tell me how you are casting your spells, I will have to take other action. I have heard that when a witch dies, her spells die too. We can test the tale easily if you continue in your obstinacy.”

“I have told you the truth,” Mist replied. “I do not know what spells you refer to, but they are not of my making.”

“You take me for a fool!” Gadrath said. “Or you do not understand. A painful death is the least of what I can do.” His hand rose slowly and deliberately toward the crystal pendant, but stopped just short of touching it. The crystal was almost dead-black in the dying light. Ranira shuddered.

Mist whitened, but her voice was steady. “Do not deceive yourself. You have no power over me.”

“You lie.” Gadrath’s eyes burned. “I have more power than any High Priest of Drinn has ever had, for I dare to use it. Do not think I am hampered by the stupid customs my predecessor was too afraid to break; my very presence here should tell you that. No other High Priest in the history of Drinn has sent men out of the city during Midwinter Festival, much less left the city himself. I sent guardsmen after you as soon as I was confirmed as High Priest, and I am here to deal with you myself. Stop your pretense and tell me: What have you done that so disturbs Chaldon’s rest?”