Witch-born

by A. J. Maguire

  "My Lady," Elsie set her cup on the small, circular table that separated them. "Your mother's crimes are her own. You will not pay for them. Beyond that, I have considered you a friend for several years now. From the moment you freed me from servitude, actually. Do you remember what you said to me that day?"

  Leona shook her head, bountiful yellow curls whisking against her shoulders.

  "You told me that I wasn't fit for serving drinks and making beds. That I deserved something far better." Elsie leaned back in her chair. "I thought perhaps a part of you had recognized who I really was."

  "I'm hardly that clever, and you know it."

  "Yes you are. You just haven't been given the opportunity to prove it."

  Leona gave a feminine grunt and finally sipped her coffee. When she looked up there was a new set to her features, determined almost, and Elsie waited for her to speak.

  "Callen and I have been talking," Leona said. "He's inclined to believe you. And so am I, if I'm being honest. So my natural concern. Well. When this is over, I mean, what will become of me?"

  Elsie smiled and reached across the table, careful to avoid her mug, and squeezed Leona's forearm in what she hoped would be comfort. "What do you want to happen, Milady?"

  Leona's shoulders relaxed further, and she gave a shy but genuine smile. "I thought of travel. I haven't been past Lorant and I've read so much about Magnellum that I would really like to see it."

  "I can understand that."

  "The problem is," she sighed and looked out at the parlor. Early morning rays warmed against the maroon carpets, accenting the room in calm color. "It's my savings you see. I cannot in good conscious keep it, knowing what I know now. It feels too much like blood money."

  "It occurred to me that you might think so," Elsie said. "That is why Bryva and I set up an account for you in Lorant. We couldn't keep it in Delgora, you understand. The local merchants have to answer to the House, and your mother would have noticed."

  Leona's mouth fell open which, as with all things the lady did, still managed to make her look pretty. Bryva had predicted just this reaction from the girl and Elsie smiled. They'd both seethed with jealousy that Leona could be so flawless in everything. Kind-hearted, beautiful, quirky Leona, that's what Bryva used to say.

  "But how?"

  "I have saved every coin you ever gave me, Leona. Every gown you've paid for, every ribbon for your hair, all of it." Elsie pretended to count for a moment. "I've been working for you for what? Eight? Nine years now? I'm sure it has to be a hefty sum by now."

  "But ... "

  "Hush now, Leona. Regardless of any protests you make, that money will be yours. A gift and a bit of a bribe, because when this is all over I simply must ... " she waited a moment, smiling before she finished, "be the one to make your wedding dress."

  For a moment Leona was stunned. She looked at her coffee, at the floor, and finally at Elsie. And then she laughed, bright and cheerful and everything Elsie had come to expect from the girl. Elsie laughed as well, mostly at the swell of infectious happiness that ebbed from Leona. Bryva was there, in the back of her mind, sharing the moment. It wasn't everything she had hoped for - there were far fewer drinks than Bryva would have cared for and a distinct lack of dancing - but the celebratory feel was there.

  She imagined Bryva would have understood.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Disembarking from a dirigible proved to be remarkably similar to that of a regular boat. Except that there were only seven passengers leaving the vessel, and no one had known of their arrival so the gangplank and surrounding area was eerily bereft of people. Though it might have been the reprehensible hour at which they had docked as well. The deep dark of early morning greeted them as they walked down the steep, abnormally high walkway that led to solid ground.

  Dorian felt the creek of aged wood underfoot as he took the final steps, shedding his jacket while he walked. He heard Winslow protest against the heat and spotted his friend removing outer layers as well. Rorant and Bart handled it with more grace, tugging gloves and kerchiefs off. His father even managed a polite smile when Leona and Callen appeared.

  Leona had seen to Callen's comfort because he was garbed in sparse sleeves and a waistcoat that looked light at a distance. He imagined that Elsie had been too concerned with battle plans to have remembered this detail, so he let go of the initial envy for the man.

  A moment later and Elsie started the journey down the gangway, wearing something breezy and flattering and humble. Appearances had to be kept, after all. For reasons he couldn't fathom his mind wandered to the woman's arsenal. While he knew where the garrote would go, Dorian had no idea how she had hidden the other weapons. His creative mind began to speculate where each piece might be.

  He remembered she'd had a set of throwing daggers much like his own, skillfully hidden in her corset. A set of caltrops, though he thought those could be hidden in her purse or pocket, and if he was being honest, the hateful little things only reminded him of the incident in Basten. Certainly her sword had been packed away, and her pistol.

  "The carriages won't be leaving for another hour," Rorant said. "But I have managed to rouse the stableman. Those of us not headed for Delgora Proper can leave in a few moments."

  Dorian glanced at Winslow, who clapped a strong hand on his shoulder.

  "You might have warned me about the weather, Sal."

  "I thought it best to leave that detail to your own discovery, Winifred."

  Winslow's gaze wandered out to the buildings surrounding them. Streetlights fought to illuminate the place, showing only the sides of houses or the occasional doorway, nothing of the jungle could be seen yet. Winslow seemed disappointed for a moment and Dorian wondered what Bryva had told him about her home.

  "Well," Winslow smiled, breaking away from his thoughts. "I'll see you in Delgora then."

  "Travel safe," Dorian said. "And keep my brother-in-law out of trouble."

  "Yes," Bart said dryly, "I'm the one you should be concerned about."

  Winslow laughed and moved away. Dorian watched as his two friends mounted their horses, waving a final farewell before disappearing into the gray morning light. He thought for a moment that Winslow and Elsie held a gaze, a silent acknowledgement passing between them, before he departed. It wasn't until they were gone that Dorian remembered the bracers Elsie had given the man. He hoped Winslow wasn't killed before he got the chance to show them to her waiting army.

  "And you say the ride to Delgora is how long?" Rorant asked.

  "Four hours," Leona told him.

  "Fates bless me!" his father sounded truly shocked. "Are we fording rivers and the like?"

  Leona giggled, missing the fact that the man was serious. "Of course not, my Lord. The engineers have been puzzling a way to extend the train tracks, but thus far they cannot get around the Wild."

  "It's a pity the dirigible couldn't take us all the way," Callen said from beside her.

  "Oh, I've begged my mother countless times to build a landing platform there, but she would have none of it." Leona paused, frowning as the implications of her statement settled on the group.

  The small city surrounding the train depot and dirigible drop point was waking, the first few early risers making their way to work. There was an awkward silence that intruded on them as curious passerby glanced in their direction. Only Elsie appeared unfazed, standing guard over their trunks and seeming to take an interest in the storefront just beside her. It was a candy shop, he could see by the sign on the door and the colorful baskets seen through the window.

  "Yes, well, we shall have to see if we might change her mind," Rorant said after a moment.

  "I doubt even the Vicaress can resist the charm of Lord Rorant Orzebet," Gremor said.

  Dorian smirked at his manservant. He'd almost forgotten the man was there, standing poised and ready just beside Elsie. She turned as though she'd sense his attention, smiling in spite of the grim set of her shoulders. His magic felt her anti
cipation, her worry and he had to force himself not to go to her. The facade had to keep for just a little longer. Still, it was hard not to watch her as they began to prepare for the last leg of their journey.

  ***

  The father felt her arrival in Delgora before the creature. It was her scent that finally alerted him, but there was something different; something dangerous and tempting at the same time. With slow, calculated movements the creature turned into the wind, inhaling deep.

  Power.

  Terrible, great power.

  The Dellidus might have smiled if her father had not fought it. A sudden rebellion in it's subjugate this close to the end game would be disastrous. So it bit down firmly, the topmost fangs sinking deep into the neck muscles, simultaneously poisoning the body while sucking in the meager amount of Talent the man had left.

  The father shuddered, relenting to the rule of the Dellidus.

  ***

  They made a solemn procession through the town of Delgora. The weather shift from Lorant to Delgora was a welcome one, once he'd shed his jacket, waistcoat and gloves. Dorian fully appreciated the tropics that greeted them after their weeks of wintry travel. It did not escape him that he was blessing the very weather that had irritated him when he'd first come to Delgora. But then, there were many things that had changed in the last few months.

  After several hours in the carriage Elsie had chosen to ride alone on horseback, just ahead of Leona's carriage. Dorian thought this had something to do with allowing the Lady to come to terms with the truths they had laid before her, but there was also the presence of Callen Beroe. Either way, the choice seemed to be the right one. There was a marked change in Elsie's demeanor. He'd noticed it when she'd spoken to Gremor, who had tried to insist she ride in Lord Orzebet's carriage instead.

  She was distancing herself.

  Dorian was debating her reasons for this as they turned the corner into Delgora Square. There were only two possible reasons for her sudden silence. Either she was tense with the sense of encroaching battle - which was very likely since everyone in their small crew was feeling the affects of that tidbit - or she was preparing herself to become House Witch. It was likely both, he determined. Watching her ride stiff-backed on her horse, gazing straight in front of her to avoid all conversation, he could almost see the cross from servant to House Witch starting. While she had spoken to Gremor in the past as an equal, her words to him earlier in their ride had been firm, commanding. Gremor, being the wise man that he was, recognized this and had acquiesced.

  He'd just started to compare Elsie to his mother, who seemed capable of near anything, when he felt a jolt through his Talent. Elsie sat up straighter in the saddle - if that were possible - at the exact same moment, her gasp audible to everyone nearby. Alarmed, he dismounted as she flew off her horse, running for the hanging cages in the center of the square. It took him a moment to register what they were. Dorian was certain they hadn't been present on his first visit to Delgora, which meant someone had recently been convicted of a crime and the cages erected at the order of the Vicaress. He could feel Elsie's panic coursing through his magic and made the move to follow.

  "Don't," Leona whispered from the window of her carriage.

  There was a woman lying in the cage that Elsie hovered beneath.

  "Fates," Gremor murmured, somehow emerging at his side.

  Confused and torn between pretense and the need to comfort her Dorian glanced between them. The reason for Leona's warning became evident a moment later as Delgora Guards fought to drag Elsie away from the cage.

  "It's her mother," Leona informed them, her voice heavy with understanding. Dorian tore his gaze from the spectacle of Elsie, hanging from the edge of a cage and struggling to open the door, to look at the lady. "Naharia Gelgova."

  Elsie's shout of rage startled the square, making him look back at her. She threw her head back, connecting with the nose of the watchman behind her. The guard released her and staggered back, blood smearing down a face that contorted with real rage. Dorian took three steps before Gremor planted himself bodily before him.

  "Don't!" Gremor blocked him. "It's what they want."

  Elsie had just gotten through the cage bars and grabbed Naharia's hand when a guardsman struck her hard in the back of the head. Her body dangled from the cage for a moment before the guardsmen dragged her down. It was a physical effort on his part not to bend time, beat the guardsmen away, and make off with her to safety. Gremor's tight grip on his elbow became his only anchor, followed quickly by the sound of his father moving to his side.

  "What is going on?" Rorant demanded in a hushed voice.

  Leona was the one who answered, explaining who the woman in the cage was and the known penalty for conversing with a prisoner. Several lashes, depending on the Vicaress's mood and time spent in a cage as well. There was no doubt in Dorian's mind that Reonne had set this trap on purpose. She'd wanted Elsie to make a move, to do anything that might render the girl incapable of speaking with anyone else. Surely Elsie had known as much. Reonne thought to keep Elsie away from the people until the Ascension Day had come and gone.

  And that blasted Vicaress was probably hoping that the rest of Elsie's men would become incensed with the action and take up arms, giving her ample excuse to throw them all in cages and squelch the sedition before the day came to pass.

  Reonne was an irritation, he coached himself as they hauled Elsie toward Delgora Fortress. She was an Untalented irritation who would be taken down in a matter of days. The real danger was the Dellidus. Rorant gave a low oath beside him, proving just how angry his father really was. Lord Orzebet never swore.

  "My sentiments exactly," Dorian muttered under his breath. Then he remounted his horse, and the caravan started up again.

  Passing the cages, Dorian spotted that the second hanging basket had an occupant as well. Wild hair, grungy wardrobe, Forvant sat weakly against the bars. They locked eyes for a brief moment, neither man speaking as Dorian's horse continued forward. He thought for a moment that a wry, albeit painful smirk touched the man's face before he turned away. Gripping the tethers with all his might, Dorian prayed to the Fates that he had the strength to endure the next few moments.

  They made no greetings to the servants or the guard as they all filed into the great hall. Vicaress Reonne was standing at the head of the room, a superior smile on her face as she watched Elsie revive from the attack. He could feel the fury ebbing off the girl as she managed to pull herself to a standing position. She shrugged the guards off her arms and faced the Vicaress with contention and stubborn will-power. Dorian could see a trail of blood running down her neck and soaking into the ivory of her chemise and had to find his sense of control again.

  "My, what an unpleasant welcome home," Reonne purred from the House Seat. "No doubt you must be ever-so confused, Nessa."

  The fact that she still used the fake name gave Dorian hope. He took a moment to glance at the braziers and relaxed minutely. They stood dead and cold, exactly as Elsie had asked them to.

  "Let me take the liberty of informing you that your mother is being held for treason," Reonne gave a delicate gesture, and Dorian could see Elsie's jaw flex with anger. "Naharia can be released when she chooses to tell me the truth."

  "The truth about what, Lady?"

  Reonne smiled, all venom and sweetness wrapped up in one as she nodded to the doors; "About the death of Elsie Delgora."

  Leona made a small noise beside him and whispered a denial. From the corner of his eye he could see her clasp tight to Callen's forearm. The Knight shifted closer to her, patting her hand with as much comfort as could be decently shown. Reonne did not notice the display; she was so intent on Elsie. With a quick gesture she ordered two Guardsmen to flank her again.

  "As I am certain you could not have lived in that family for so long and not heard the truth of the matter I will have to ask you ... did you know that Bryva Gelgova was not really your sister?" It was more of a demand than a question.
Reonne had already come to her conclusions.

  Still, Elsie answered and her voice held such authority that it seemed to captivate everyone in the room. "Bryva Gelgova was more of a sister to me than any blood relation ever could have been."

  "But you knew she was not really a Gelgova."

  "You should not rejoice so easily in her death, Vicaress." Elsie glowered up at the woman.

  "Oh," the lady feigned hurt. "You mistake me, Nessa. I mourn the distrust of the Gelgova family. We could have protected Elsie if you had merely brought her to us."

  "And by 'us' you mean you and your Dellidus?"

  The servants in the room took in a surprised breath that was drowned out by Reonne's shouted command, "Silence!" After a moment to compose herself, the Lady smiled again. "I'm too generous," she completely ignored the implication. "I'm going to let you keep your mother company. Maybe you can convince her to talk before she dies."

  Another gesture and the Guards grabbed Elsie and began to drag her from the room. Elsie didn't struggle. She took four steps backward, giving a dark and dangerous smile at Reonne and saying, "You are a liar and a fake, Vicaress. Magic will see through you. He will fry you in your bones for the deception you have laid on Delgora."

  And then she turned around, allowing the Guards to lead her out of the fortress.

  If the threat had made any effect on the Vicaress she didn't show it. With a delicate hand she smoothed the front of her gown and turned to face them all. Something hard wrenched in his stomach at the smile she gave them.

  "I do apologize for that unpleasantness," she said to them. "Please, come in. It seems we have extra guests today."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Elsie waited for the Guards to lower the cage far enough for her to climb in. She didn't protest, just balanced herself inside the rickety, half-molded wood long enough for the Guards to close her in and raise it again. Barely large enough for Elsie to stand upright, the thing swayed in the air and creaked against the added weight of Elsie's body. There was something off in the scent that wafted from the wood, something Wild, and Elsie recognized that Reonne had seen to it that the thing was made special; with wood from the banks of Witch-Eater Lake, no doubt. Several men would have died just to gather it.