took her hands in hers. “One of the
Red Guard captains patrolling near the waste lands received word
from a villager, more fearful of us than the resistance, it would
seem.” She squeezed Deborah’s hands. “He told her a number of armed
men had passed through their village but days before, led by an
older woman with wild streaks of blue in her hair.”
“ It’s Elizabeth, most
certain.”
Gracelin nodded. “No other witch would dare
wear the signs of her shame so brazenly.”
“ And the village?”
“ Deliton. The man told the captain
that the resistance had headed northeast of the town, in the
direction of Corilea, by way of Cammpras.”
Deborah pulled away from the Green Witch and
strode up the stairs to her throne, dropping down heavily. “She
comes here? What an interesting tactic.”
“ If that is truly her intent, I would
say it’s more foolish.” Gracelin came to stand before her. “She
would need an army to wage war against the seat of our domain.
Given the number of Red Guard we retain at the walls alone, she
would be slain before she reached the city gates, without us
needing so much as to raise a hand in our own defense.”
“ Elizabeth is no fool. Perhaps she
hopes to distract us, or mislead us into drawing our forces back to
Corilea. That would give her free reign to traipse about Mynistiria
without being seen.”
“ Perhaps, but we’d be the fools were
we to pass this opportunity by without response.” She knelt beside
the throne, gazing up at Deborah. “Now is the time to make use of
Shade. If Elizabeth has set a trap, then Shade can sniff it out for
us. But if our informant has spoken the truth of what he has seen,
then the assassin can make the most of it by bringing us
Elizabeth’s head.”
The White Witch leaned back into the throne,
her stare locked on the brown pools of Gracelin’s eyes. She sat
silent for a moment, her mind spinning. At last, she gave a quick
nod. “You are right.” She set a smooth hand on Gracelin’s cheek and
traced the line of her jaw gently with a finger. “Send Shade to me.
I would have her on her way.”
Gracelin smiled up at her and rose slow. “We
can end this now,” she said as she backed toward the edge of the
dais. “Just as I could years ago, I can imagine the day you rule
unopposed.” She loosed a quiet laugh and nearly danced down the
stairs, flowing from the room without a backward glance.
Deborah’s grin fell from her face once
Gracelin was gone, not willing to give in to the woman’s hopeful
optimism. She, too, could picture the day, though it had been long
in coming. Nineteen years had slipped away since she’d taken the
throne, but her victory could never be complete as long as
Elizabeth still lived. She was the last of the witches who had
known Alise’s true will, the desire that burned most fiercely in
the woman’s heart. Alise would have had the Council step down,
eliminating it in favor of letting the people rule their own
destinies. It was her wish to stop the culling of warlocks, and to
embrace them as one of their own.
Deborah felt her lips pulled unconsciously
into a sneer and smoothed them with her palm. She had argued with
Alise, bartered, even begged, but the former White Witch would not
budge. She had been bound and determined to bring about a new world
where witches were no better than the rest of the rabble in a
society of equals. It sickened Deborah to think of it, even
now.
Within the blood of a warlock was hidden the
key to immortality, and Alise would have given it away without a
thought, condemning all of their sisters to the same pitiful end as
the human roaches that skittered across the carcass of the land.
They were naught but bugs to be exterminated; to be ruled.
So Deborah did what she must, and Alise was
sent to her grave before she could set her plans in motion, but the
truth of what she intended still lived on in Elizabeth, a witness
to the blood that stained Deborah’s hands. With word of
Red Guard captains patrolling near the waste lands received word
from a villager, more fearful of us than the resistance, it would
seem.” She squeezed Deborah’s hands. “He told her a number of armed
men had passed through their village but days before, led by an
older woman with wild streaks of blue in her hair.”
“ It’s Elizabeth, most
certain.”
Gracelin nodded. “No other witch would dare
wear the signs of her shame so brazenly.”
“ And the village?”
“ Deliton. The man told the captain
that the resistance had headed northeast of the town, in the
direction of Corilea, by way of Cammpras.”
Deborah pulled away from the Green Witch and
strode up the stairs to her throne, dropping down heavily. “She
comes here? What an interesting tactic.”
“ If that is truly her intent, I would
say it’s more foolish.” Gracelin came to stand before her. “She
would need an army to wage war against the seat of our domain.
Given the number of Red Guard we retain at the walls alone, she
would be slain before she reached the city gates, without us
needing so much as to raise a hand in our own defense.”
“ Elizabeth is no fool. Perhaps she
hopes to distract us, or mislead us into drawing our forces back to
Corilea. That would give her free reign to traipse about Mynistiria
without being seen.”
“ Perhaps, but we’d be the fools were
we to pass this opportunity by without response.” She knelt beside
the throne, gazing up at Deborah. “Now is the time to make use of
Shade. If Elizabeth has set a trap, then Shade can sniff it out for
us. But if our informant has spoken the truth of what he has seen,
then the assassin can make the most of it by bringing us
Elizabeth’s head.”
The White Witch leaned back into the throne,
her stare locked on the brown pools of Gracelin’s eyes. She sat
silent for a moment, her mind spinning. At last, she gave a quick
nod. “You are right.” She set a smooth hand on Gracelin’s cheek and
traced the line of her jaw gently with a finger. “Send Shade to me.
I would have her on her way.”
Gracelin smiled up at her and rose slow. “We
can end this now,” she said as she backed toward the edge of the
dais. “Just as I could years ago, I can imagine the day you rule
unopposed.” She loosed a quiet laugh and nearly danced down the
stairs, flowing from the room without a backward glance.
Deborah’s grin fell from her face once
Gracelin was gone, not willing to give in to the woman’s hopeful
optimism. She, too, could picture the day, though it had been long
in coming. Nineteen years had slipped away since she’d taken the
throne, but her victory could never be complete as long as
Elizabeth still lived. She was the last of the witches who had
known Alise’s true will, the desire that burned most fiercely in
the woman’s heart. Alise would have had the Council step down,
eliminating it in favor of letting the people rule their own
destinies. It was her wish to stop the culling of warlocks, and to
embrace them as one of their own.
Deborah felt her lips pulled unconsciously
into a sneer and smoothed them with her palm. She had argued with
Alise, bartered, even begged, but the former White Witch would not
budge. She had been bound and determined to bring about a new world
where witches were no better than the rest of the rabble in a
society of equals. It sickened Deborah to think of it, even
now.
Within the blood of a warlock was hidden the
key to immortality, and Alise would have given it away without a
thought, condemning all of their sisters to the same pitiful end as
the human roaches that skittered across the carcass of the land.
They were naught but bugs to be exterminated; to be ruled.
So Deborah did what she must, and Alise was
sent to her grave before she could set her plans in motion, but the
truth of what she intended still lived on in Elizabeth, a witness
to the blood that stained Deborah’s hands. With word of
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