Page 49 of The Iron Dagger
He hid his monstrosity well, this man who stood by as her mother was dragged from the abandoned hut. Now she had a name and a face to go with the cold voice in her memory.
But she said none of this. It was too close to her own history, and she could not trust herself to keep the terror out of her voice if she told it. Besides, she did not think the Head Recruiter wanted his subordinates to know that he had murdered his own kin.
If she’d ruffled Turnswallow, he did not show it. But then Hara caught the slight arch of his brow. He must know that she knew, and that she had held back.
He cleared his throat. “And the healing?”
So she passed the first test.
“I have extensive knowledge of herbs and pain relieving spells. I healed Gideon Falk from a near death poisoning and a vicious animal wound. My powder potion halted infection of the blood. He is now well and it is as if the wound never existed, with minimal pain in the healing process. You can ask Lord Gideon yourself.”
“Ah, so that’s why you’re here. You saved his life,” said Turnswallow, and his shoulders lost some of their stiffness. Perhaps the mystery of her sudden appearance was no longer a cause for suspicion. “Where were you trained before coming here? I was not aware that Lenwen or Norwen employed Witch Recruiters.”
“The courts do not, but I work privately for hire. If there are strange happenings in a village, I am summoned to deal with it. I have no lord I am beholden to,” Hara invented wildly, glad none of them were Seers.
“And what do you do with them once you find the malcontents?” asked Turnswallow with a curious lift to his brows.
He wanted to test her ruthlessness. While she was inventing her own history, she may as well tell him what he wanted to hear. “I take them to the town magistrate and collect my bounty. Usually, the punishment is spending a week in iron stocks. If they are difficult, I do what I must,” she said, letting her fingers gently brush a knife at her hip.
Matching smiles turned up each of their lips.
“Anything else?” she asked, keeping that bored tone. She mustn’t appear too relieved that they were believing her stories.
“Only this: anyone I bring into my group is expected to contribute. Whenever your services are needed, you will be obliged to provide them without question. You may be here for research, but you answer to me.”
This was not ideal, but what choice did Hara have? This was the easiest way to spend hours pouring over their records without suspicion. She would not mind healing any who needed her skill, but using her Sight to track down witches felt disgusting to her. Perhaps it would not come to that if she was quick in her search. She would get the information she needed and then spirit herself away. It might even be useful to spendsome time among the Recruiters and learn about their abilities so she would know how to avoid them.
“Very well,” she said. At her assent, the woman got up from her desk and rifled in a cabinet. She returned with a small crest pin made of ivory and a stone key. Hara took the key and found that the crest depicted an iron spike.
“I have business to attend to. Tamsin, show her what to do,” said Turnswallow, leaving back through the corridor from where he had entered. Hara watched him leave until he disappeared around the corner, and she fought to control her trembling hands so that Tamsin would not see. Twenty years had passed, and Hara still feared this man almost as much as she feared Commander Falk.
Tamsin was speaking, and Hara fought to bring her thoughts back to the present.
“The key will open the records hall and the armory,” said Tamsin, leading Hara down a hallway. “There are gloves you can use to open the armory gate. The records hall is here,” she finished, unlocking a heavy wooden door.
Hara glanced inside and was met with a blast of chill, dry air that tasted musty. She had to blink several times to adjust to the dim lighting, and soon tall shelves loomed out of the darkness. Glowing yellow lamps created islands of light atop the desks.
The fate of her mother could be somewhere in this room. Hara was careful to make no reaction.
“I imagine you’ll be spending a lot of time in here,” said Tamsin as they entered the room. “Our record keeper is named Geremy Flints, and—oh, there he is.”
They rounded a corner and came upon a tiny office tucked into the corner of the room. An elderly man looked up from what he was reading, blinking through the large roundeyeglass affixed to his head that gave his eyes a lopsided appearance.
“Mr. Flints, this is Hara, a visiting Recruiter. She is here to do some research by the grace of Lord Gideon.”
“Is that so? And what are you researching, Mistress Hara?” said Geremy Flints with an eager smile. He had a pleasant, buttery voice that reminded Hara of Gertrude’s husband Gessup back at home.
“Elemental magic.” she said. She would start here and work her way towards asking about the magic the royals used, then to the capture records. No need to raise suspicions from the start. She had to earn some degree of trust first.
He gave a chuckle that Hara couldn’t help but feel was condescending.
“Well, you’ll have to be more specific. Elemental magic covers a broad host of topics,” he said. He removed his eyepiece, rubbing the glass on his black robes, and said, “You see, there are some schools of thought—”
“We just wanted to stop by and make introductions. I must show her the store rooms and the holding cells,” said Tamsin hurriedly, leading Hara out of the records room. When she closed the doors behind them, she said, “He’s a rambling old codger. Once you get him going it’s impossible to stop.”
“Is he a sorcerer?” asked Hara as they made their way down the corridor.
Tamsin scoffed. “His only magic is his ability to memorize words spoken or written instantly and never forget them. Only good for record keeping and not much else.”
