Page 58 of The Iron Dagger
Even if her suspicions were correct and he had shielded his memories to protect Corvus’ secrets, her Sight was strong. With enough time she felt confident that she could work out the mystery of the icy mountain and the memory loop, certain that it had something to do with her mother. Clearly it was something he wanted to hide, and that made her want to See it all the more. She would settle for brushing against his hand in the corridor if she could not form an acquaintance with him.
“I haven’t seen Turnswallow since the day I joined,” she said to Tamsin on a slow afternoon. They had gotten an assignment to perform vermin-banishing spells on one of the upper floors. “How long do these excursions usually take?”
“Could be a few days, could be months. He’s often away; gets special assignments from the Commander,” said Tamsin, toying with her chalk before casting a rune upon the floor.
“What sorts of assignments?” asked Hara, sketching her own rune.
“He’s able to sense iron-shy creatures, so he is usually sent on special tasks with Dominic to track down witches. He’s the Head Recruiter for a reason.”
“Have you ever helped capture a witch?” asked Hara, trying to infuse her voice with experience. Several times a day she had to remind herself that she was meant to play the part of a jaded witch hunter.
Tamsin nodded as they passed into the next room. “Twice, and both times, I had to transform myself into a beast totrack them.” She noticed Hara’s curious glance. “My shift form is a hound.”
Hara thought of the otter she met on the road. “Is it a rare gift, shapeshifting?”
“A little. Most rely on potions. I’ve only met one other natural shifter before,” said Tamsin, sketching a rune to ward off bats on the back wall of a chimney. She dusted her hands and turned to Hara. “But I’ve never met a true Seer. My Sight is weak at best, and I must concentrate for hours to get vision, if I get one at all. What’s it like for you?”
“It feels a bit like swimming,” said Hara slowly, trying to put into words something that was unconscious and intuitive. It was rather like describing how it felt to have a sense of smell or hearing. “Like a vast pool of water that I can slip under at any moment. It’s heavy and immersive. And once I am submerged, I feel for the threads of influence to show me the past.”
“You can control what you See?” asked Tamsin with awe.
“In a way. But I must be close to the object of my Sight.”
Tamsin turned to place another rune at the foot of the hearth when her chalk snapped. Hara snagged at the opportunity.
“Here,” she said, tugging the broken piece out of Tamsin’s hand and passing her a whole piece. Their fingers barely grazed, but Hara concentrated on the dry, rough skin and felt the influence stealing through their touch. The weight of it grew heavier each day that Hara spent in her company, but nothing created a lasting connection like physical contact. The brush of Tamsin’s skin made her influence full and almost tangible, like a water skin ready to spill. It was tempting to look now, but it would have to wait until the evening when they had finished their duties and Hara could be alone.
As Tamsin turned away, a sharp rap on the door caused them both to turn. A clerk in black robes stood in the doorway.
“Mistress Tamsin, you’re needed in the Justice chambers,” said the clerk. “They need an animal linguist to determine rightful ownership of a purebred charger.”
“At least it’s a horse this time,” said Tamsin, dusting off her hands as she walked toward the door. “Cows don’t pay attention to anything.”
Her footsteps faded down the hall, and Hara let out a relieved breath at her good fortune. She went to the window seat and made herself comfortable, resting the back of her head against the stone. The only sound was the dry tick of the clock on the mantel, and she focused on timing her breaths to its rhythm.
When her heartbeat was a slow throb, she lost herself in Tamsin’s past. Hara was surprised at how strongly scent featured in her memories, as many-layered and complex as her emotions. It was then that she realized many of the memories were from Tamsin’s shift form, and Hara had the curious sensation of inhabiting a hound’s body.
She inspected Tamsin’s memories, searching for anyone resembling her mother, a prison, or anything that would suggest she knew where the old court sorcerers had disappeared to.
All her searching was for naught, and Hara surfaced with a gasp. She tried not to let her frustration get the better of her as she faced another dead end. There had to be someone here whose past intertwined with her mother’s, and she would find them. All she needed was time.
It soon became clear to Hara that she had returned to Montag on the arm of the court favorite, and she secretly counted her blessings that Gideon’s shine extended to her as well. Somehow, people learned overnight who Hara was and who she had arrived with, and she was met with polite smiles and guarded glances in turns.
Clementine would wake her with breakfast, chatting away and giving Hara bright smiles. Her blushing maid was eager to share what she heard about the social functions Gideon was attending each day, of which there were many. Hara wondered if Clementine was hoping to glean bits of personal information about him since she knew that Hara had been invited to court as his guest.
The girl’s infatuation amused Hara until she realized that Clementine was not the only one with an interest in him. After only a few days, she noticed feminine whispers of “Lord Gideon” often in the corridors, the dining hall, and even in the public garderobe.
A small flicker of delight mixed with irritation would lap at her insides when she heard his name. She caught herself running her tongue over her lip repeatedly throughout the day, remembering the pressure of his lips against hers in the tapestry. A part of her wondered how many of these women had shared pleasure with Gideon for him to have such a reputation. Judging by his skill with his mouth and fingers, it was quite a few. But she knew that experience alone did not equal skill. It was one thing to sleep with countless women, but it was quite another to be good at it.
A week after Gideon’s return, Hara noticed that the crowds of pastel and bleached pale heads that filled the corridors began to darken as many of the courtiers dyed their hair. Gideon told her that she would understand about the courtly fashion when she saw it, and she quickly realized that his piercings and dyed hair were rather tame. It seemed to be very in style to dust the top portion of the face in an eye-catching color while leaving the bottom unpainted. Most courtiers had several piercings in each ear, weighed with gold and silver and dangling with gems.
Men and women alike were superbly dressed in fur-trimmed capes or in voluminous gowns that fell suggestivelyfrom the shoulders. Hara remembered worrying that she would look like a duck among swans, but in truth, she felt like a scorpion.
She still wore her reticule filled with herbs and powders, but her severe black attire and bone knives marked her instantly as a Recruiter and, more shockingly, as a witch. Bustling hallways seemed to part before her in silence, and Hara tried to look imposing and unapproachable. She wondered if any of them could sense that she was an imposter and feared that at any moment, someone would catch her out and yell that she was nothing but a hedgewitch with a plump cat as her familiar.
“Don’t say that,” said Gideon when she voiced her concerns. “You were accepted as a Recruiter on your own ability without any strings pulled by me. You’re as legitimate as Markus Turnswallow.”
Hara shuddered. “What an unflattering comparison. I don’tliketo be taken for one of them, as much as I know it helps our cause.”
