Page 40 of The Iron Dagger
If Hara was to play the role of cold-blooded witch hunter, she needed to commit to it. It was possible that her tranquil demeanor could be seen as a facade to hide her ruthless nature, but Hara was too sincere.
“We need to work on your mannerisms,” he said, taking a bite of traveler’s bread.
“I grew up in the court. I know how court sorcerers behave. Even witch hunters,” said Hara, watching Seraphine pounce for field mice in the long grass.
“Do you?” he asked.
“One was with them when they took her. A witch hunter.”
Her words sent a sinking sensation in his gut. Of course. How could he be so thoughtless? He recalled the voices in her memory.
“He was almost bored. Completely unfeeling,” said Hara, twining a bit of grass between her fingers. “He watched them drag my mother out. The two of them could have easily overpowered the soldiers, but he helped them take her.”
They listened to the wind and the soft chirping of crickets.
“Can you . . . can you do violent magic?” he asked. He had been curious about this, but now seemed an appropriate time to ask.
“I could, I suppose,” she said. “But it doesn’t come easily for me. There are some who can perform it well, powerfully even, but they have honed that skill the way I have honed my healing.”
“What could you do? Are there spells?”
“The most I ever managed was a flicker of pain, much like the shock one gets after rubbing against a rug. Not very impressive. Some can invent spells, but most violent magic happens in the moment, you see. My aunt could char flesh.”
“Char flesh?” he asked, impressed and mildly horrified.
Hara wrinkled her nose and smiled. “It’s a nasty wound to heal, but useful to cauterize wounds. Speaking of which, how does your mouth feel today?”
Gideon felt the tender skin at the edge of his mouth. It was just a mild swelling now, barely noticeable. “Much better.”
Her smile grew. “Then come here.”
Gideon swallowed. Visions of using his recently healed mouth swam before him as he stood from the boulder and walked the short distance to her makeshift blanket, sinking onto it.
“Tell me about the court under Corvus,” she said.
His hopes wilted. It seemed the only activity his mouth would be engaged in was prattling. He sighed and looked to the sky.
The court. How could he describe it to someone who had only ever lived with fire for heat and light, a well or a stream for their water? These journeys into neighboring kingdoms were rustic and primitive by comparison, even in the cities. Norwen had recently invested in steam boilers for their palace, but even that luxury was a basic necessity in the Montag kingdom.
“You may find it overwhelming at first,” he said, remembering Hara’s answer for why she preferred to perform all her menial tasks by hand. “The city is so efficient, it has surpassed the need for magic in many ways.”
“How so?”
“If you wished to bathe in your cottage, you would draw water and heat it in your cauldron, one bucketful at a time. At the palace, you could open a spout with your voice and hot water would fill a tub almost instantly, and it would never grow cold.”
“Open a spout with my voice?” she said, looking at him as though he had spoken a foreign language. “You may have to show me.”
“Don’t worry, it’s intuitive. You’ll catch onto it quickly,” he said with a small smile. Truthfully, Gideon was eager to see her discover the wonders of his kingdom. “What’s going to be most challenging is the people. They can be nasty to outsiders, but to witches, they can be vicious.”
Hara nodded, her lips firm. “I rather think I should keep to myself, then.”
Gideon nodded. “At first, it might be wise. You should be quiet, but not mysterious. Out of the way, but not invisible. Corvus isn’t as fearsome as you might expect, but my father . . . ”
The Commander was Corvus’ right-hand man in all things, and they had a subtle understanding between them. While Corvus met with the people and gave speeches, it was his father who wrote the speeches and signed the papers on his behalf. Gideon knew that his father still carried a deep disdain for all magic-kind; it had not been Corvus’ idea to hunt down sorcerers after the coup.
Gideon hoped that his father’s gratitude towards Hara for saving his son’s life would allow him to overlook the fact that she was a witch.
Gideon opened the sack Hara had used to carry the coins from the shop and he rifled through, counting. Less than he would have expected a trader to have, but better than nothing. Hara’s mouth set in a hard line as she watched him.
