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 tostop 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
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 tostop 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
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