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Bright Gods! Does your mother know what you're doing?"
It was a ludicrous question, but it cut through her defenses as his accusation of murder never could. "My
mother's dead. Drowned by the very humans she spent her life helping. If she was alive, she'd be proud of me!"
Ping. The tone was muffled by her grip, but clear. Makenna jumped. It shouldn't have rung, with the runes
dismantled. But this was an intricate spell. She'd never really understood it.
"I'm sorry," the knight said gravely. "I can't imagine what that must have meant to you. But surely abandoning
the Bright Gods and taking power from the Dark One isn't the answer."
"Pigdung," Makenna snorted, enjoying his shocked scowl. "There is no Dark God. Likely no Bright Ones,
either."
"That's blasphemy! Besides, if there are no gods, where does your power, and the priests', and the goblins',
come from?"
"From the same place." She gestured to the meadow outside the windows. "From nature, from inside ourselves.
The only reason I'm not a priest is that the chooser said I hadn't enough power. 'Her holiness is not sufficient.'" She
mimicked the chooser's voice, remembering her mother weeping in the night.
"But.. ." He fell silent and then spoke quietly. "Jeriah said something like that once. That the priesthood was the
Hierarch's way of keeping people with powerful magic gifts in his service. Father was furious."
"Who's Jeriah?"
He realized he was giving away information and his mouth snapped shut.
She shrugged. "It makes no difference. He sounds a sensible man, whoever he is. But if you're interested, these
days I swear by St. Maydrian the Avenger."
She smiled and left him to think it over.
f& f& f&
"Please, sir, all I want is work." She stood before Master Lazur, eyes downcast, her shaking knees concealed by
the unaccustomed skirt. Cogswhallop and Erebus had both hated this idea and they never agreed on anything. But
she needed more information about the settlement, and according to the knight, they believed their enemy was an
ancient and powerful sorceress. They shouldn't suspect an ordinary peasant girl.
She'd been confident she could deceive them . . . until the guard brought her to this tent and addressed the
sharp-eyed priest before her as Master Lazur. Well, what if he was her enemy? He couldn't know who she was, for
they'd only caught a glimpse of her at the wall, and she looked very different now, with her drab skirt and properly
braided hair. She took a calming breath and steadied herself to meet his eyes. Unlike the knight, she was a fine liar.
"Things are hard this time of year," she said pathetically. "Goodman Branno, he couldn't afford to keep me,
and since then I've worked only a few days at a time. In Brackenlee, when I heard about your people, I thought there'd
be lots of hands needed in a new village, so I came to ask. I'll work for bed and board until you can pay me."
"I think we can do something for you." His words were kind. He probably was a kind man, unless you got in
his way. Then you'd be uprooted and burned, along with the rest of the grapevines. Makenna knew all about
ruthlessness in defense of your own. She wouldn't underestimate this man. Just now, for all his kindness, he looked as
if most of his attention was elsewhere. Good.
"But first you must answer a few questions, so we can be sure we can trust you," the priest went on. "May I cast
a truth spell on you? It's a standard precaution we've done it with all our settlers here." Makenna's heart lurched. His
expression held nothing but a trace of boredom. It probably was a standard precaution, just like he said. Sensible, too,
so why hadn't she thought of this possibility?
"Of course you may." To say anything else would arouse his suspicions. She drew a deep breath. "I have
nothing to hide."
He stood for a second, gathering power while she strove desperately to gather her wits. Unlike the weaker spell
in her mother's books, the truth spell forced you to tell the truth, but perhaps . . .
He laid his hand against her throat, and she felt the power swirl though her like a churn paddle. She gasped and
he glanced at her, startled. Should she not have felt it? She blinked innocently. He withdrew his hand, and the power
wrapped around her stomach like a giant fist and settled there.
"What's your name, girl?"
The fist squeezed and she felt the answer welling up in her throat. She couldn't stop it. "Makenna, Ardis'
daughter." He accepted the indication of bastardy with visible indifference, and she thanked St. Spiratu the Truth Giver
that she'd not yet told anyone the false name she'd intended to use.
"Where do you come from?"
"The wetlands, originally." The name of her village rose in her mind, and she added quickly, "But that was years
ago. I've traveled a lot since." It was all true. The alien power in her belly stirred restlessly but forced no further answer.
Good lies came from truth, like butter came from cream. If she could keep talking and always tell the truth, would that
work?
The priest shrugged. He evidently cared little for her travels. "What do you want here?"
Need it be the whole truth?
"To work for some good family," she said. The words "to spy" surged in her throat, but she swallowed them
down and babbled on rapidly. "It's a long time since I had a proper job, and I haven't much money left." The pressure
was subsiding. She'd answered and spoken the truth evidently that was enough.
"Have you heard of the sorceress of the Goblin Wood?"
"Aye, in Brackenlee." And from Sir Tobin and many others, but she managed not to say it.
"Have you ever seen her?"
"No, sir. To tell the truth, I didn't believe much of what they told me." And still don't.
"Do you serve this sorceress?"
"No, sir." For she doesn't exist.
He nodded acceptance, then thought of a final question.
"Do you intend harm to anyone in this settlement?"
The compulsion to answer squeezed her gut and her mind raced. "As long as they mean no harm to me and
mine, I mean no harm to them," she blurted, trying to sound pert, then looking down as if embarrassed. The power
roiled, dissatisfied, but the compulsion to speak wasn't overpowering. Someone entered the tent, but she was too busy
controlling her expression to look around.
"Very well." The alien power drained out of her and she suppressed a gasp of relief. "Goodwife Garron has a
new baby she might need an extra pair of hands. Jeriah will show you."
She glanced up, startled by the name, and saw a handsome boy, younger than herself. The knight's Jeriah? It
wasn't a common name. He nodded to Master Lazur and smiled at her.
"I thank you, sir." Makenna curtsied unsteadily to both of them and Jeriah showed her out. She wished
desperately for a few moments' privacy to recover from her narrow escape, but Jeriah walked on without pause. She
wiped her sweaty palms, gritted her teeth, and followed him.
After one shrewd glance, he didn't speak did she look that shaken? But probably many did, after their meeting
with Master Lazur. She'd have plenty of time to ask questions later, so Makenna fell in with his silence, and used the
time to compose herself before meeting Goodwife what was the name? She felt a moment of panic, but Jeriah
introduced them carefully.
Goodwife Garron was a thin, quick-moving woman, still pale and tired from the recent birth. But tired or not,
she never wasted time. Almost before she knew what was happening, Makenna found herself up to her elbows in a tub
of dirty laundry, where she finally had a chance to relax, after a fashion.
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