Nasty Little Witchling

I yawned as we crossed the courtyard to the main complex at the head of the abbey. The warm porridge had done its best to remove the fatigue from my bones, but the night of running about was catching up to me.

Andria slowed to stretch her back, and Maisie flinched at a screech in the distance. Despite the sleep they got up on the roof, they were just as sore and jumpy.

It dawned on me how everyone around us behaved normally over some of their younger members missing the entire evening. The girls deserved the day off to recover, or the morning at the least, yet they carried on like it was a typical day. Where were the concerned looks and sighs of relief at their safe return?

The elders had been gruff over our late return, but from their comments, they fully expected us to come back unharmed. There were a few moments where things could have gone horribly wrong, especially if I hadn’t collapsed the path behind us, so I found the nonchalance confusing.

I suspected that dealing with the ghouls was a typical day for them and that the danger was simply part of their lives.

Elder Eudralia stood in the doorway to the multi-storey building, exchanging a few words with each person passing through. I took a deep breath in my place at the back of the procession, ready to stomach whatever advice she’d impart this time.

Instead of words, she held her arm across the threshold, looking at me like I was foolish for trying. I wanted to let her talk first, but her stare was getting uncomfortably long. “Would I not be more useful if I was able to learn?”

She dropped her arm out of the way. “Don’t be cheeky, girl. I have no complaints about learning. It’s who you teach that’s the matter.”

The elder was right to worry, but I kept my expression blank, not trusting myself to look suitably innocent.

I hurried through to catch up to the girls ahead since I didn’t know where we were going. After a couple of staircases and a lengthy hallway lined with odd woodworking pieces, we arrived at a room rimmed in artfully woven tapestries. They overlapped the entirety of the room and covered most of the grey paint.

Intricate symbols were at the forefront of flower-covered hills, opulent or rundown rooms with people in matching attire, and barren landscapes. I recognised the symbol dominating the tapestry that depicted a ghoul cowering in the shadows as the warding rune.

Witchcraft was supposed to be the basis for many modern mage pursuits, but I wasn’t sure if this was closer to enchanting or spellcraft.

The tapestries covered the windows but were thin enough to dimly light the room. Rings of mismatched wooden chairs circled a raised dais, each painted and shaped uniquely. Darine was already inside, straightening them into neat and even rows. That effort was negated by the new arrivals pushing through the walkways to find their regular seats.

I thanked her for bringing over an unadorned chair that might have been native to the building so I could sit at the back. She found a seat at my side while Maisie and Andria sat opposite. Ulia was at the front among the younger girls, perhaps because of the elder who walked in after us.

Elder Talena stepped up to the dais and counted us under her breath. “I trust everyone has, at minimum, laid eyes on our recent addition to the abbey.”

A dozen heads turned to search the room with a chorus of agreement. I’d seen most of them in the kitchen the past day but couldn’t name the majority.

“Therefore, we will speak their tongue for her benefit until she learns.”

The front of the class groaned, and a girl attempted to persuade the elder not to, but she wasn’t backing down. “Pretend I don’t know Tehban; try to convince me in Common.”

Andria raised her hand. “Can this count as our language class, then? And you let us leave early?”

“Granted.”

The older girls didn’t seem bothered by the switch-up, most likely because they were already fluent. Elder Talena started the lesson by going around the room, pointing to each tapestry and selecting one of us to explain what it was.

The answers were more complex than naming the rune, yet the tapestries provided clues about the additional aspects.

The type of material and whether it was carved into or painted on mattered greatly. For that, the colour of the symbol matched the material, and the way in which the runes' stitching protruded indicated the application. The background spoke of the conditions surrounding the imbuing process and was less strict, serving more for amplification.

I nodded along to the answers for a tapestry depicting a lake in the rain. River stones were carved into for the purpose of condensation or rain, depending on the strength. Doing so in a wet environment was clearly the most efficient.

A nonsensical example I wouldn’t arrive at if I had the entire day was the rune of fortune since it didn’t depict gold but rather scrolls. Papyrus was the base material, and any ink could be used to draw in the rune.

I didn’t know the names of half the materials they spoke of, but Elder Talena brought small fragments out for my benefit. The different kinds of wood and the white crystals differentiated by opaqueness were hard to remember, but I tried my best to follow along.

“Patela, can you tell us what this one does?”

She must have given me the easiest on purpose, knowing I’d recognise it. “It’s for warding, and you carve it onto a…white crystal.”

“Selenite,” Andria whispered, too loud for me to repeat secretly.

“Yes, selenite. Thank you, Andria. What conditions are the best for imbuing?”

“When you’re in danger?” I guessed, based on the cowering ghoul.

“Fair answer,” Elder Talena said. “It’s either fear or safety. Both work fine, but intense fear is the most effective.”

She continued around the room, getting as many different people to name the runes. Almost everyone could answer with concise ease, except for Maisie, who confused two crystals that sounded similar.

Creating misfortune was the closest they got to a curse, and I found a chance to ask the question I’d been ruminating over. The tapestries were all inactive, with no interaction with the surrounding mana. The warding symbols painted outside weren’t carved or on selenite, yet they still had a minor effect.

“Why don’t the tapestries work as runes?” I asked once I got her attention at the end.

A girl ahead scoffed and shrunk away from the elder’s glare. “It’s always beneficial to get another perspective. Elder Resna’s new lure rune was only possible once we received writings from an outsider. Can you answer Patela’s question?”

“Because runes don’t work with fabric?”

“Not entirely true,” Elder Talena said, pointing to Darine, who volunteered.

“Because the thread wraps around and around, so while it completes the pattern, it doesn’t do so in a continuous line.”

“Correct, so it is possible, but easier to have the real thing in your pocket instead.”

Afterwards, we moved on to alchemy. A table with all the glass equipment and ingredients was brought up to the dais for the elder to work on. The potion they had been working on recently was similar to a healing tincture I prepared with Mother, almost a direct imitation except for differences in the preparation.

Elder Talena stood off to the side and called girls up to carry out each step of the potion. Each made minor mistakes, but by midway, they began mounting up to create an end product that wouldn’t resemble the healing tincture.

I was called up to play my part by adding shavings of agave root. The step was simple, but it wouldn’t work because too much acid was added at an earlier step. The base added later on was the proper volume, but its purpose was to neutralise the acid. I reached for a labelled glass bottle and glanced at the elder for permission.

Her eyebrows raised, but she nodded, and I neutralised the acid with a few extra drops. I tipped my root shavings in afterwards, and they fizzled in the brew like they should, marginally saving the potion.

I was pleased with her impressed smile but not with me being used as an educational moment for the rest of the room. We ended up with a functional tincture, which was not nearly as effective as it should have been. Elder Talena remade it to show the colourless mixture expected of the finished product, as opposed to our cloudy concoction.

It was bittersweet to be methodically taught alchemy again. Most of my knowledge came from assisting my mother and learning recipes through repetition and observation. It would have been nice to learn how to make dragon’s breath on my first day, but that could always come later since I seemed to be staying for a while.

There was no language lesson due to my presence; instead, the focus shifted to the most notorious aspect of witches: curses.

Unlike runes, which people could make to varying degrees as long as they had the knowledge and conviction, curses were abstract forces. Sometimes, they met the boundaries of other practices, such as the amber-eyed doll, but that was uncommon and considered sophisticated.

Instilling misfortune in a person, similar to the rune’s indiscriminate effect, was the simplest manifestation she wanted me to read on after I admitted to not using curses before. Luckily for me, I wasn’t allowed to practise in the lesson.

It was arrogant to think I knew better than the elder…but I knew better than the elder. Or at least more than she said to the gathered witches. I was intimately familiar with the types of curses, their method of latching onto their victims, and their dispelling. However, that insight may not be useful to anyone except me.

The fervour the elder spoke about the effects of the different curses on the intended target, the settlers and death squads outside, was unnerving. The similar response from the girls, some seemingly as young as twelve, was a harsh reminder of the type of community I’d found myself in.

The people living outside didn’t know we were there. They cared more for the riches without owners and for taking back their grandparents’ decrepit homes from the ghouls.

The witches could leave without anyone ever knowing they existed. That was especially true for the youngest, who had nothing to do with the events of the past. They didn’t have a doll keeping them here, and it was clear from just a day with them that Maisie and Andria could be convinced to leave, given the opportunity.

I spent the rest of the class daydreaming about how to give them that opportunity and who I’d need to convince besides them. The Duke didn’t control the capital, and I doubted I could get them to Drasda without help. This Ambuya figure was likely the most zealous of the lot, and if the leaders of the remnants were anything like Tometh…then things were dire.

My daydreaming wasn’t interrupted by Elder Talena but by the stretched smile of a mandrill. As lovely as it would be to waive off the night as a bad dream, I sadly knew better. I wondered if the witches knew about Alp and if their warding would be effective against him. Until I knew for certain I was safe here, my nights would be restless.

Going to the interior wasn’t the worst idea to get him off my back, apart from being pressured into it. There would be better treasures in areas otherwise untouched by people for decades. However, there would be ghouls strengthened by the ever-increasing ambient mana. I’d make an effort to appear as if I was completing his task, but only to the extent that I was capable.

Unfortunately, I didn't think finding the headdress was feasible, and at some point, I’d need to decide what to do. Hopefully, finding out what I wanted to know from the witches and leaving would be enough to solve that problem.

The elder’s mentioned of the imbalance between mages and the people for the tenth time in as many minutes piqued my interest. Before attributing it to mere ramblings, I thought about the ambient mana.

Had the difference between districts been worse when the city was populated? Did the more concentrated mana provide benefits to those in the centre? They certainly did for me.

It wasn’t enough to suddenly listen in rapt attention to everything the elder was saying, but enough to look for the truth in her words with more seriousness. I could admit I was overly untrusting in other people's words, yet that wasn’t without good reason.

There were some in Drasda who had worn away at that sentiment, but—

“Patela, I’m saying this purely for your benefit,” Elder Talena said. “Can you remind me what I was just talking about?”

“Ah…”

Jeremy [Unknown]

A knock at the door made me roll up the detailed road map of northern Werl and stash it with the other documents clustered across my desk. “Come in.”

“Sir, message from Baron Esmoth. It’s marked for the duke’s eyes only, but…”

“Thank you. Hand it here and same with any similar messages.”

“Yes, sir,” she said and hesitantly added. “The boys in codebreaking are asking when the new cypher for the Harutay Duchy will be available. It changed this morning, and the Chief of Trade is confused about the sudden lack of information.”

“Right,” I said, more annoyed than ever that there wasn’t a standard time for all of us to change our codes. “Tell them our insider in their trade department went dark, and we don’t have a time when we’ll hear from them next.”

It was the most amusing and inconsequential use of the cache of information we’d uncovered with Valeria’s help. The neighbouring Dutchy had a shortage of goods due to the skirmishes in the east, where they usually traded across the narrow sea. Our enterprises were meeting those shortages before the public knew they were coming.

It netted us a nice profit but was otherwise insignificant, especially after we had to stop due to an investigation into our actions.

“I’ll make sure word gets to the usual suspects. They’ve been trying to find where their leaks have been coming from for weeks. I’m sure they’ll be ecstatic about any scraps of information we give them.”

The door shut, and I leaned back in my chair to sigh at the ceiling. Having aides who could read between the lines was often efficient, but it meant they knew when I wasn't giving them the full story. That wouldn’t be so bad, except they had all the information to piece together the truth.

For them, the story was a new web of informants and code-breaking credit being given to non-existent people in other cities—a tall tale to those who had been in the job for years.

We’d captured two low-tier infiltrators since Valeria had given us the means to read their affiliates' messages. Not because we’d now discovered them but because they were so desperate and blatant in their attempts to track down our source, we had to take action.

I didn’t know every disloyal and bought-off operative in my wing, but the couple I did were worth their weight in mana crystals for the false information they fed back.

It was partly—mostly—my fault for all the attention. I’d been overzealous with exploiting the information we unexpectedly had access to. In hindsight, we should have let opportunities pass by for the sake of long-term secrecy.

However, now that the source of our breakthrough was gone, I couldn’t fault my past self too harshly for taking advantage of it while I could.

Faraya was out with over half the order, making a show of finding the missing witch. She was supposed to be on bed rest until the curse in her lungs abated, but there was no stopping the woman from leaving on her own accord.

The watch had squealed about the escape after we asked their help to seal the city. They’d then coordinated a denouncement of the duke’s ineptitude in keeping a witch responsible for the death of a watch member contained—a passing of the blame we’d placed on them for the opera house.

I was confident they were no longer in the city, but Faraya was there to be seen, not to be effective.

Since we didn’t want to label Valeria a witch or create an even messier story for us and her by calling it a kidnapping, only one witch was mentioned. But, where one was, the other would be found as well.

I had the unpleasant job of talking Vince out of openly searching for Valeria. The little evidence we had pointed to her leaving willingly, so her cover story was probably intact. Making a stink over her disappearance would only serve to put her in danger.

Yistpher was out to the east. He and his little muntjac had sniffed out the trail in the sewer, which led to an entrance near the eastern gate. He was operating on the theory that they had help, and I agreed with his assessment.

The first outcry about our failures came from the watch’s eastern headquarters. The first note they nailed outside their building spoke of two witches being lost, not the one we told them about. They’d since replaced that with the standard template used by the other headquarters, but the initial mistake was too coincidental not to investigate.

That was where my wing’s efforts were focused. Another party had to be involved in making Valeria divert off course, and the watch was as good a suspect as most. Their corruption had been limited and scrutinised, but it was impossible to stomp it all out. In the end, I hoped they’d done it for roe and not because they sided with the witch’s cause, whatever that entailed besides damaging opera houses.

Kylepo thought Valeria had taken her chance to escape, but I disagreed. The girl was too earnest and walked through life like she was encountering choices for the first time, not something a vicious schemer could pull off.

Or was I a bigger fool than I thought?

I unlocked my bottom drawer to retrieve a letter opener despite knowing the message’s contents. I broke the duke’s seal that had been attached to the note, breaking quite a few laws in the process. Nodding through the mandatory pleasantries, I skimmed through the thinly concealed condemnation for the negligent escape of an ‘enemy of humanity.’

It was the third of its kind, coming from relatively powerless Barons. However, that was by design. A patron's words were conveyed through their subordinates without incurring any outward ill-will. I’d pass it along to Janette for the full political implications, but the paragraph at the end about avoiding the Succession Gala in spring was immediately worrying. Barons, especially the older families, may decide now was the best and only time for a stab at the ducal title.

I unfolded the map again, running my finger over every road from the eastern gate, eager to find Valeria for more than my job’s sake.

Despite only a single road leading down there, through entire cities of fervent witch-haters, my eyes kept finding the multi-ringed depiction of the capital.