Laurell Hamilton - Nightseer

She took their hands and said, “I will confront her but not challenge her. Is that satisfactory?”

Belor smiled one of his gentle smiles. “Very.”

They fell back like a guard of honor and followed her.

The building was framed in the golden eastern light, but inside all was cool and shadow-dark. Firelight and lamplight cast yellow pools in the gloom. The rich perfume of herbs filled the place. The thick dryness of hanging herbs, the rich dampness of herbs boiled down in a pot, made the air almost solid with their smells. As always, the scent of a well-run stillroom reminded Keleios of her mother, but it was here that she found the witch.

Fidelis stood feeding herbs into a grinder. Her plain grey dress clung to her body, almost like a slip, more seductive than any of the full-petticoated skirts. A single strand of pearls was her only ornament.

A small apprentice turned manfully at the handle of the grinder. It was he who saw them enter, and his face paled, leaving his brown eyes like islands. Fidelis asked, “What is it?” She turned, irritated, and saw Keleios. Something flashed over her face—fear, perhaps, but not quite. A small pot bubbling on the fire spat into the flames, and the drop sizzled, making the fire pop.

The boy jumped, and Fidelis said, “That will be all.”

The boy walked slowly between the two women, and once clear of Keleios, he ran.

A rustling from the side of the room, and two girls stepped hesitantly into sight.

Keleios said, quietly, “Get out.”

They fled.

“We are alone now, Keleios, save for your cortege and my familiar.” Fas the spider clicked from the top of a nearby shelf. Belor and Tobin were a solid reassurance at Keleios’ back. “State your business, half-elf.”

“You wrote we could fight later; well, it’s later.”

The witch blinked and smiled, “What should we fight about?”

“Belor.” He stepped forward and showed Fidelis the dismantled charm.

“Why, Fidelis, why?”

“You’ve come about that.” She began to laugh. She leaned against the table and cackled until tears ran down her face. They weren’t sure how to take that. Keleios had planned for almost any reaction but not laughter.

“I don’t think this is a laughing matter, witch.”

Fidelis nodded, wiping her eyes with her fingers. “No, no. You asked why.” She straightened, a strange half smirk still on her thin lips. “The black prince wanted something to attract you, and I needed his help with spells.”

“His help? He knows no herb-craft. What help could he give you?”

The smile widened, the eyes hooded with the long-lashed eyelids. “The help any man could give me.” She moved closer to them, her slender frame seeming to glide over the stone floor. “I asked the illusionist for help, but he follows Cia and would not aid me.”

Belor blushed.

“I almost had the journeyman convinced, but at the last he would have asked your opinion, and I knew what that opinion would be.”

Tobin simply stared at her, amber eyes glittering.

“But Lothor wanted something from me. A willing man for a charm, that was the bargain.”

Keleios’ face paled. “The Landien Cycle. Urle’s forge, Fidelis, how could you?”

Her eyes darkened, anger rising. “Power, half-elf, power.”

“How many times did he help you?”

Lothor answered from the doorway, “Twice.”

Keleios backed to the side of the room in order to watch them both. “Are you bargained for one more?”

He nodded.

“You need a child’s heart for the last spell. Where were you planning to get it?”

Fidelis began to laugh again; the sound bubbled up and filled the room. “Keleios, don’t be naive.”

“You give witches a bad name, Fidelis.”

The laughter stopped abruptly, “Perhaps, but it was worth it for power, and he is a wonderful lover. I envy you with him for your bedmate.”

Lothor bowed. “And may I return the compliment, my lady.”

Keleios had a great desire to scream. “It seems I will never know; we fight in the arena tonight.”

“Too bad, and if you have no more business with me, I have work to do.”

“One more thing. You were amazed that I should confront you over this charm. Well, it’s all I have solid proof of. But I know that you are up to something treacherous.”

“Was I in your dreams last night, prophet? But even so, you have no proof.”

“You have been very careful. Without proof I can’t go before council, but there are other ways to deal with it.”

“Yes, half-elf, there are other ways to deal with it. A knife in the dark, perhaps.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Oh, no, not me. I don’t use knives as weapons, that’s much more your area.” “Then what did you mean?”

“Why, whatever you want it to mean.” The witch smiled sweetly, flashing a dimple to one side of her lips.

Keleios stared at her for the space of three heartbeats then said, “This is not over between us, witch.”

“On that at least, half-elf, we can agree.” Fidelis turned back to her table of herbs and began sorting them, “My first class is soon, if that is all?”

“For now, witch.” And Keleios turned abruptly. She brushed past Lothor with the words, “I’ll see you tonight.”

“I look forward to it.”

Belor and Tobin left with her. Tobin glanced back and only Fidelis was smiling.

They walked quietly for a few paces, then Belor said softly, “She plans to kill you,

Keleios.”

Tobin shook his head and said, “ ‘A knife in the dark’ means an assassin. Why would she warn you?”

“Maybe she hopes to frighten me.”

Tobin gave a rough snort. “Doesn’t she know you better than that by now?”

“I don’t think Fidelis has ever understood me, or I her.”

Belor touched her arm. “I don’t think you should worry about assassins until after tonight.”

“You mean that Fidelis may wait and see if Lothor kills me.”

“If I were her, that is what I would hope for.” He squeezed her arm. “It’s done now, but you should make plans, strategy. He is an enchanter/sorcerer, the same as yourself. You’ve never faced anyone who matched you.”

“He is not an herb-witch.”

“No, but you may not get to use herbs tonight.”

She shook her head. “I will plan, Belor. Meet me in my room in half an hour. I must tell Master Tally I cannot help him today in the forge.”

Tobin asked, “What can I do?”

“Come dressed for battle to dinner tonight; do your duties as if everything were normal.” “Am I to be your second then?”

She smiled at him. “No, Tobin, but I fight a follower of Verm and Ivel, and that may mean treachery. I would want us all on our guard tonight. Now you are almost late for your first class. Allanna is not kind to late arrivals.”

He grinned, “No, but someday maybe she’ll be kind to one young Meltaanian prince.”

Keleios shoved him. “Oh, go to class, skirt chaser.”

“Battlemonger.” And he jogged off towards the classrooms.

Belor spoke softly. “I want to know your plans.”

She clapped him on the back and smiled, much too cheerily. “My second has to know.”

“I am honored to second you, but you don’t have a plan, do you?”

“Not yet. Better make it an hour before you meet me.” And with that she turned towards the main keep and the blacksmith workshops.

Belor yelled after her, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

A delicate touch of sorcery brought her thoughts to his mind.

*So do I.*

The thought did not comfort him in the least.

The smithy area was under the keep near the kitchens. It was doubly warded. One ward would contain the magic in case of a mistake. A good explosion could bring down half the castle. It had happened at other smithies that handled the repair of relics. A second ward would keep the stench of fire and burned metal from leaking into the kitchens and ruining the food.