Witchsign

by Den Patrick

  ‘Now,’ said Shirinov, voice booming across the square. ‘Let us see what we shall see.’ A few of the children began crying. Others stared into space and trembled. Steiner watched as Kjellrunn bunched her hands into fists and stared straight ahead, just as he’d told her.

  ‘That’s it, Kjell,’ he breathed. ‘Show them no fear.’

  Shirinov pressed his face up close to her once more and Steiner realized he was holding his breath. The Hierarch’s gaze shifted to another child and he hobbled away, Kjellrunn instantly forgotten.

  Every Invigilation was different. Some Vigilants would prowl the rows of children, dismissing each in turn once satisfied the taint of witchsign was not present. All fine and good if you were the first child inspected, not so much if you were the last, kept waiting in terrible anxiety to the bitter end.

  ‘Hel is all waiting,’ Verner often said and Steiner couldn’t help but agree as he stared at Kjellrunn, hoping she would pass.

  Some said witchsign had a scent, a scent only a Vigilant could detect. Others told of a ghostly aura or shadows that writhed in the cold. Steiner didn’t know the truth of it, simply glad to have passed his own Invigilations.

  Shirinov did not inspect them one by one, nor did he work through the rows in an orderly fashion: he circled, he wandered, he dawdled. Hierarch Khigir stood to one side, unable or unwilling to move among the children, observing them from afar.

  Three times Hierarch Shirinov returned to Ditlef, sniffing at the boy until he was pale as milk, hair slicked to his forehead with nervous sweat. It would not do to wail for one’s parents at times like this. Those children who fainted, or worse yet lost control of their bladders, were not given an easy time in the months following an Invigilation. Steiner wondered if the Vigilants didn’t pass on some measure of their cruelty to the children during their yearly visit.

  Moment after anxious moment crawled by. No one wanted to be marked out for bearing the draconic taint, no one wanted to be cursed with arcane powers. The Empire had spent the last seventy-five years erasing all trace of the dragons, and exterminating anyone who evinced their powers.

  The Hierarch wound his way through the rows, feet crunching in the gritty slush, his cane stabbing the ground hatefully. Steiner watched as Shirinov drew close to Kjellrunn and felt powerless to stop what he felt sure would come next.

  ‘You are all free to go, children of Cinderfell,’ barked the old man. He slumped against his cane as if weary, and Steiner thought he heard disappointment in Shirinov’s voice. Several of the children cried out with relief, while others merely clutched themselves and fled the cloister. Kjellrunn approached him in a daze, walking slowly as if recently woken.

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ whispered Kjellrunn. ‘When he came straight to me at the beginning …’ Brother and sister clung to each other, and Steiner suppressed a sob which Kjellrunn answered with one of her own.

  ‘Come on,’ said Steiner, eying the two Hierarchs. ‘Let’s tell Father you’re safe.’

  They slunk from the cloister together, emerging from the school with relieved smiles on weary faces. Steiner couldn’t wait to get back home and put the ordeal behind them once and for all.

  ‘You made it, Kjell. That’s the last time you have to go through that.’

  Kjell nodded and smiled through tears that gleamed silver as they tumbled from her cheeks.

  ‘I’ll make a fish stew tonight,’ said Steiner.

  ‘And boiled potatoes served in butter and herbs?’ asked Kjellrunn.

  Steiner nodded. Not much of a celebration meal, but it was important to remember the small victories. Small victories were all you had in Cinderfell.

  ‘Wait.’ Kjellrunn stopped.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘The brooch. It just came loose. I felt it fall but I can’t see it.’

  The pair of them looked at the muddy ground, casting about for Marek’s hammer brooch, while all around them children were held close by their parents.

  ‘It can’t be far,’ said Steiner, as his eyes scoured the gritty slush at their feet.

  ‘It’s important, Steiner,’ said Kjellrunn. ‘It was Mother’s.’

  ‘I know,’ he replied. While he didn’t believe in superstition there was something about the crude lump of metal, some luck that had seen his sister walk free of the Vigilant’s grasp.

  ‘You there! Stop!’ Steiner froze as the few children and parents who remained looked on with sickened expressions. Shirinov and Khigir passed under the arch, smiling silver face and frowning bronze mask fixed on them.

  ‘Steiner, run,’ whispered Kjellrunn, as two soldiers emerged from the school, flanking the Hierarchs. A look over his shoulder revealed two more soldiers waiting down the street.

  ‘There’s no running,’ said Steiner. ‘Not from the Empire.’

  Shirinov hobbled forward, his cane dragging a furrow through the grey slush. Khigir loomed at his shoulder, ever frowning.

  ‘The brooch!’ whispered Kjellrunn, her eyes staring wildly at the ground.

  ‘Never mind that now, it’s gone,’ said Steiner, pulling her close as the Hierarchs approached. ‘Get behind me, Kjell.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Steiner

  Though such distinctions escape the majority of the population, it should be noted the ranks within the Holy Synod ascend accordingly: Initiate, Brother/Sister, Holy Mother/Holy Father, Ordinary, Hierarch, Exarch, Patriarch/Matriarch. Our devoted Mothers and Fathers are entrusted with the work of Invigilation, though sometimes more experienced minds are called on.

  – From the field notes of Hierarch Khigir, Vigilant of the Imperial Synod.

  ‘You!’ shouted Shirinov, louder than was necessary. ‘What is your name?’

  ‘I’m not deaf,’ said Steiner, scowling.

  ‘This one has spirit,’ said Khigir to Shirinov as they approached. The Hierarch steepled his fingers. ‘He asked your name, boy.’

  ‘Steiner. Steiner Erdahl Vartiainen.’

  ‘Steiner. Like stone,’ said Shirinov. ‘Perhaps you have rocks for brains?’

  ‘Better a stony brain than a stony heart,’ replied Steiner.

  ‘Why are you here?’ asked the Hierarch, leaning on his cane.

  ‘I brought my sister here.’ Steiner looked down his nose at the Hierarch. The old man was a handspan shorter though that didn’t stop Steiner’s hands shaking with fear and fury; he clenched them into fists so that the Hierarch wouldn’t see his nervousness. ‘And now I’m taking her back.’

  ‘And you have passed your testings?’

  Steiner swallowed but didn’t look away, dared not look away. He had nothing to be guilty of. ‘I passed every one, from ten summers until my sixteenth, when I left the school.’

  ‘We should return,’ said Khigir.

  ‘Wait a moment, brother,’ replied Shirinov. He stepped closer to Steiner and the sound behind the smiling mask was unmistakable. Shirinov sniffed, like a wolfhound scenting a hare or fox.

  ‘And how old are you?’

  ‘Eighteen,’ said Steiner. ‘I just told you, I’ve stood through six Invigilations, and so has my sister. We’ll take our leave now.’

  ‘No. You will not.’ Shirinov leaned close and cocked his head to one side. ‘I deem you corrupted.’ He sniffed again. ‘You have the taint of witchsign about you.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous,’ grunted Steiner. ‘You’re lying.’ Kjellrunn squeezed his hand.

  ‘I sense the power of the earth,’ said Shirinov. ‘And of the sea. I sense much power within you. I don’t know how you passed through earlier Invigilations undetected, but we have you now.’

  Steiner opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words. The power of the sea? Of the earth? He’d expected Kjellrunn to be found with witchsign, but never himself. Kjellrunn squeezed his hand again but Steiner barely felt it, his eyes locked on the smiling mask of Hierarch Shirinov.

  ‘You’re lying,’ he repeated, though his voice was distant, as if hearing himse
lf in a dream. Wouldn’t he know? Wouldn’t he have experienced something, some unearthly event or strange turn?

  ‘I am many things, Steiner Erdahl Vartiainen,’ said Shirinov, ‘but a liar is not one of them.’

  ‘All because I spoke back to you, is that it?’

  ‘No, that is not it. I sense the power of the earth upon you, and of the sea. What violence might you visit upon the Empire if left unchecked? What terrors might you summon?’

  ‘Summon? I have no powers, old man.’ But the words were carried off on the wind, frail as smoke, like embers dying. Steiner’s world dimmed and a terrible uncertainty stole both his breath and his resolve.

  ‘You will present yourself at the pier tomorrow morning,’ said Shirinov, ‘or I will send the soldiers to find you.

  ‘You’re wrong,’ said Steiner, hearing the disbelief in his voice. ‘This is all wrong.’

  ‘Do not try to run, Master Vartiainen.’ Khigir’s voice was mockery dressed as concern. ‘If we fail to find you by noon tomorrow you will leave us no choice but to sack the entire town.’ Khigir leaned closer. ‘It would be unfortunate. Many deaths occur when a search is conducted, accidentally of course.’

  ‘You’re mistaken.’ Steiner shook his head. ‘I’ve passed every Invigilation since I was ten.’

  ‘Not this time,’ said Shirinov, and Steiner was certain the Vigilant grinned behind the mask.

  The Hierarchs turned away and disappeared beneath the school’s archway, leaving Steiner to stare after them. He remained statue-still and mute with shock until the heavy fist of a soldier caught him under the ribs, forcing the air from his lungs.

  ‘Be at the pier tomorrow, and keep that smart mouth of yours shut.’

  Steiner was about to answer when another soldier struck him across the face, hard enough that his head whipped to one side. Suddenly he was kneeling in the snow, staring at flecks of soot and spatters of crimson. Blood, he realized.

  ‘Steiner.’ Kjellrunn fell to her knees and hugged him, shoulders shaking with fierce sobs. ‘Oh, Steiner.’ He reached into the snow with numbed fingers and produced the sledgehammer brooch.

  At least I found this, he wanted to say, but his bruised jaw refused him, unwilling to shape the words.

  They sat at the kitchen table and Steiner could only blink and try to wonder how such a thing had happened. His father had transitioned from silent shock to whispered denial and then roaring anger. He’d spent long minutes hatching plans for Steiner’s escape.

  ‘You know we can’t risk such a thing,’ said Verner.

  ‘The Vigilant, Khigir, he told me they’d tear the town apart if I didn’t turn myself in tomorrow.’ Steiner pressed a rag to the cut on his cheekbone.

  ‘Better the whole town than my brother,’ said Kjellrunn.

  ‘You told me we’d escape Invigilation this year,’ said Marek, hard eyes set on Verner. ‘You told me—’

  ‘I told you I hoped that we’d avoid a visit from the Synod this year. I made no promises.’

  ‘Why were there two Vigilants?’ said Kjellrunn in a distant, faraway tone. ‘Why not the usual Troika?’

  ‘And why were they both Hierarchs?’ added Steiner.

  ‘We’ve never had such high-ranking members of the Synod here before.’ Kjellrunn shook her head. ‘Nothing above a Holy Mother anyway.’

  ‘Two Vigilants turned up dead in Helwick, and the third went missing,’ explained Verner. ‘None of the soldiers could explain why. It seems the Synod sent two more Vigilants to investigate.’

  ‘And they just happened to stop in Cinderfell to conduct the Invigilation,’ added Marek, glaring at the fisherman.

  ‘No one could have predicted they’d come so soon,’ said Verner.

  ‘Two Vigilants dead and a third missing?’ said Steiner.

  Verner nodded.

  ‘You didn’t mention anything in the tavern last night?’

  Verner shrugged and glanced across the table at Marek, who refused to meet his gaze. ‘Steiner, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Why are you apologizing to me?’ He turned the sledgehammer brooch over in his hands. ‘You didn’t find witchsign on me. Real or not. It’s not you forcing me to take the ship to Frøya knows where.’

  ‘Of course not,’ said Verner. ‘I just wish …’

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ said Marek. ‘All this time. If it had been Kjell I might have understood.’

  ‘Hoy! Don’t speak of me as if I’m not sat here.’ Kjellrunn glanced at Steiner before looking away to the roaring flames in the fireplace.

  ‘And I was just beginning to find my way around the smithy,’ said Steiner with a bitter smile. ‘I might have made a good smith in time.’

  ‘The finest,’ said Verner, laying a hand upon his shoulder.

  Marek cleared his throat and stood up, his chair grating on the flagstones. ‘I have something for you.’

  ‘I’m going to be shipped off and killed, I doubt there’s anything that will help with that.’

  Marek looked to Verner and the fisherman nodded. ‘We don’t truly know that the children who are taken are killed.’ Marek sighed. ‘We don’t know what happens to them.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ whispered Kjellrunn. ‘Every child from Svingettevei to Nordvlast knows the Empire kills anyone with witchsign.’

  ‘I’m already dead,’ said Steiner. ‘Everything else is just waiting.’

  ‘Come on,’ said their father, ‘I’ve something to show you.’

  The smithy welcomed Steiner into its darkness, the usual ruddy light escaping the edges of the furnace, the familiar smell of coal dust and hot metal. There was a tang of iron on the air like the promise of violence, like the taste of blood.

  ‘How do you know so much about Vladibogdan?’ said Steiner when Verner had shut the door behind them. ‘And don’t tell me it’s because you’re a fisherman. What else do you know about the Empire that you’re not telling me?’

  Verner looked guilty for a moment. ‘We keep an eye on Imperial movements and pass the information on to certain people,’ he explained. ‘Your father does less these days on account of looking after you two. We both agreed a long time ago that we didn’t care for the way the Solmindre Empire does as it wishes.’

  ‘You’re spies,’ said Kjellrunn, frowning.

  ‘I’m a blacksmith, not a spy,’ said Marek. ‘And if you knew what I knew about the Empire then there’s nothing you wouldn’t do to keep your loved ones safe.’

  ‘But that’s the problem, isn’t it?’ Steiner glowered at his father. ‘You’ve never told us what you know about the Empire, you barely speak of our mother, you barely speak at all.’

  ‘Steiner!’ Marek walked around the anvil and grasped his son’s shoulders, but Steiner shoved the man back.

  ‘It was you!’ Steiner hissed at Verner. ‘You went to Helwick.’ He scowled at Verner in the darkness of the smithy. ‘It was you who killed the two Vigilants. You promised my father we’d be spared an Invigilation so Kjellrunn might go unchecked this year.’

  ‘I didn’t kill anyone,’ said Verner, though the lie fooled no one.

  ‘For Frejna’s sake, Steiner.’ Marek shook his head. ‘Listen to yourself!’

  ‘No,’ said Kjellrunn. ‘You all listen to me.’ The monotone hardness had edged into her voice again and the furnace cast her in a dire light. ‘Steiner may not be able to read but he’s not stupid. And neither am I.’ She turned to their father. ‘You sent Verner to kill the Troika because you feared I’d fail the Invigilation.’

  ‘Wouldn’t that just bring more Vigilants?’ said Steiner.

  ‘Yes, but it would bring them to Helwick, not Cinderfell, and we might be forgotten about as the Empire searched for the killer.’ Marek held out supplicating hands and shook his head. ‘I was merely trying to protect you.’

  ‘That brooch you gave me.’ She gestured to the glint of metal in Steiner’s hand. ‘It was meant to disguise the witchsign, your last desperate attempt to keep me safe dur
ing the Invigilation.’

  ‘So it’s true then?’ said Steiner. ‘You have the taint?’

  ‘I prefer to call it witchsign,’ replied Kjellrunn, holding his gaze.

  ‘You both knew? And you never told me?’ said Steiner, looking from father to sister.

  ‘I suspected,’ said Marek, eyes fixed on the floor. ‘I’ve always suspected. She has too much of her mother in her for it to be otherwise.’

  ‘Kjell?’ Steiner’s voice was a whisper, his expression stricken.

  ‘I’ve always known,’ said Kjellrunn. ‘I’m sorry, Steiner. I wanted to tell you but I was afraid. I don’t even know what my powers are.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Steiner slumped against the anvil. ‘Your own brother. You distrust me that much?’

  ‘To hear you talk of folk tales and goddesses, it’s as if you can’t bear the thought of anything but hard steel and driving rain. I was afraid, Steiner, afraid you might be so disgusted that you’d do something rash.’

  ‘I’d never sell you out to the Empire. Do you think so little of me?’

  ‘Steiner, I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do.’ Kjellrunn hugged herself and dipped her head, tousled tresses falling forward to cover her face. ‘I was too scared to trust anyone.’

  ‘It was you the Hierarchs detected today,’ said Steiner. ‘You were stood right behind me. The moment the brooch slipped free they scented trouble.’

  ‘I’m not trouble,’ replied Kjellrunn. Her chin came up and there was anger in her eyes. ‘I’ve not hurt anyone. I’ve done nothing wrong.’

  ‘The thing is,’ said Marek after a pause, ‘the children sent to the island aren’t executed.’

  ‘At least we don’t think so,’ said Verner.

  ‘I can’t go to the island,’ said Steiner. ‘What will happen to me once I get there?’

  Marek looked to Verner and the fisherman shrugged. ‘We don’t know.’

  ‘We’ve been trying to get someone sympathetic to the Scorched Republics on the island for years,’ said Verner.