'Be very sure,' the sorcerer said, his voice low. 'You've seen what I can do, old boy. You tasted a morsel of it, back at Castle Braetlyn. Even if you could take me-which, just to be clear, you can't-you'd be dooming your hunt to failure.'
The baron was panting hard with anger, the tendons in his hands creaking with pressure against the Kholben Shiar. 'I will have your respect!' he demanded.
'No, you won't,' Kaleb said. 'You'll have my assistance, and that'll just have to do. If it makes you feel any better, it's not you. I really don't have much use for any of-well, anyone at all, actually.'
'It doesn't.'
'Ah. I can't tell you how much that bothers me. Really, I can't.'
Jassion took a few deep breaths and, visibly struggling, tore his hand from Talon. He swore he heard a faint wail of disappointment from deep within the blade.
They continued without another word. The world was largely silent, its only sounds the breaking of occasional twigs beneath their boots, or a rustling leaf suggesting that, even if the sidhe would bother them no more, someone watched their progress through Theaghl-gohlatch.
Kaleb's mystical light offered little by which to judge the time. Jassion, guessing as best he could, figured that about two hours had passed between his rough awakening and the moment his companion, following gods- knew-what trail, finally led them to their destination.
It wouldn't have looked at all incongruous in most woodlands, that simple hut, but here in the malevolent reaches of Theaghl-gohlatch its presence was nothing shy of miraculous. No trees sprouted within a dozen feet on any side, though their branches intertwined above it, the sensuous fingers of wooden lovers. On three sides of the house, the clearing thus formed was filled with a chaotic admixture of herbs and vegetables, growing in no rows or pattern Jassion could ascertain.
The cottage itself was built of loose stone, though where those rocks could possibly have come from wasn't entirely clear. Ivy crawled across the walls, appearing like veins bulging from a petrified skin, beneath an overhanging roof of bark-coated shakes. The door, too, retained its coating of bark, and somewhere beyond a fire must have burned, for a thin tendril of smoke peeked from behind the rim of the chimney before dashing shyly on its way.
Kaleb pointed at the smoke, waited for Jassion's nod to indicate he'd seen it. 'Are you well enough to pretend to be useful in there?' Obviously taking Jassion's murderous glare as a yes, he approached the door and kicked it brutally open, stepping aside so the baron could dart past him, Talon held ready.
An orange ambience emanated from the hearth, though it came from glowing charcoal and ash without visible flame. A teakettle hung from a tripod, keeping itself warm without boiling away, ready to serve at a moment's notice. Plants sprouted everywhere, hanging from rafters, rising from pots, even protruding through the floor.
And sitting on a bed in the far corner, her legs crossed and her eyes shut, was the woman they had braved the haunted wood to find.
Her hair was black as the unnatural night beyond her walls, save for a few glints of earthen brown where the light caressed her locks just so, and her outfit consisted entirely of the same lush browns and vibrant greens as the forest itself. Her face, though lined by many cares, boasted an ageless grace; she might have been just over thirty years old, or approaching sixty, or anywhere between.
Despite the violence of Jassion's entry, the creaking of broken wood and bent hinges as the door twisted slowly in its frame, she did not wake. Her breathing continued, chest rising and falling so softly that the intruders might have thought her dead had they not specifically watched for it.
Jassion stepped forward and slapped the moss-filled mattress with the flat of Talon. No response.
'She's not here,' Kaleb said after a moment's concentration. 'Are you daft? She's right there!'
'Did you drink much quicksilver as a child, Jassion? I'm starting to wonder how you know which end of a chamber pot to piss in.' The sorcerer sighed. 'What I mean is, she's not in her body just now. Some witches master spells that allow them to briefly inhabit the body of another creature. They use it to pass along messages, or to spy. I imagine she's out seeking the source of the recent disruption in her woods.'
'You mean us.'
'Why, yes, I do. Very good, old boy.'
Shashar, grant me tranquility! Aloud, Jassion said, 'So how do we call her back?'
'We don't.' Kaleb stepped to the witch's side, ran a disturbingly sensuous hand across her face. Jassion shivered and would have moved to stop him, save that he truly didn't know if the man was feeling mere flesh, or the flow of her magics. 'It's a shame we don't just want her dead. This would be an excellent opportunity. But no, we wait. She'll be back, sooner or later.' He yanked the sheets out from beneath her, letting the empty body tumble aside, and began tearing them into strips. 'We can, however, make certain that she's in no position to prove, ah, argumentative when she awakens.'
Jassion's scowl grew even darker at the thought of binding a helpless woman, but he couldn't deny the sense in Kaleb's precautions. The distasteful task accomplished, he left her tied firmly to the headboard and crossed the chamber to wait, his back to witch and sorcerer alike.
Another hour passed, or so Jassion judged by the slowly disintegrating charcoal in the hearth. And then…
'Well. If I'd known I was having visitors, I'd have tidied up a bit.'
Jassion had to admit, he was impressed. There was almost no trace in her voice of the fear she must be feeling.
Almost.
'And a good evening to you, Seilloah,' Kaleb said from beside the bed.
'I don't know you,' Seilloah told him. Her attention flickered across the room. 'But you, I recognize. Hello, Jassion.'
'That's 'my lord' to you, witch!'
Seilloah raised an eyebrow, and Kaleb shrugged. 'That seems to be a sore spot with him,' he told her casually. 'I'm working on it, but he's got a way to go.'
'Nobles can be a bit prickly that way,' she agreed. Perfunctorily, she tugged on the strips of linen that bound her to the bed. 'Are these really necessary, gentlemen? Surely we can discuss whatever brought you here like civilized folk? Perhaps over a meal?'
'I'd hardly call you civilized,' Jassion sniffed. 'And I know about your dietary predilections, witch. I prefer to be at the table come supper, not on it.'
'I see.' Seilloah's lips pursed ever so slightly. 'Have you come for vengeance, then, my lord Jassion? Do you fancy yourself my magistrate and executioner?'
'I should,' he said, his voice thoughtful despite the rage that quivered behind his teeth. 'Your crimes are nearly as monstrous as those of your master.
'But no.' He sighed. 'We're here to speak with you. Cooperate with us, and you may escape your just sentence for some time yet.'
'I see. And what am I to tell you?'
Kaleb and Jassion glanced briefly at each other. 'Where,' the sorcerer asked her, 'might we find Corvis Rebaine?'
Seilloah glanced at the man beside her. 'You should know… I'm sorry, I don't believe I got your name.'
'Kaleb.'
'All right. You should know, Kaleb, that I've not seen Corvis in three years. A little longer, actually. I haven't the slightest notion of where he might be these days.'
'I don't believe you!' Jassion insisted, stepping forward with fists clenched.
'I'm not the least surprised,' she said. 'It's true just the same. And even if I did know, it would take far more than you're capable of to make me tell you.'
'We'll see about-'
'I will, however,' she interrupted, 'offer you a piece of advice in lieu of the information you seek.'
'And what would that be?' he asked, his tone dripping scorn so thickly it nearly splattered across the toes of his boots.
Seilloah offered a beatific smile. 'Never attack a witch in her own home, you silly goose.'
