‘Well, Korla?’ Verrarc got up and walked over to the bedside. ‘What might this be but evil spirits?’
‘Ah, gods protect!’ She crossed her fingers in the sign of warding off witchcraft and stepped back from the bedside. ‘I fear me you be right, unless Gwira does ken some other thing it might be.’
But the herbwoman had no other explanation to offer when she at last arrived. With Harl right behind, Gwira bustled in, carrying a big market basket crammed with little packets of medicaments. She took off her cloak and tossed it over a chair.
‘Does she live?’ Gwira snapped.
‘She does,’ Verrarc said. ‘I did hold my hand in front of her mouth, and I did feel her breath.’
Gwira set the basket down on the floor, then wrapped one hand around her chin and considered Raena, who lay unmoving, her pale face and her hair soaked in sweat. After a moment she walked over to the side of the bed.
‘Harl did tell me that this came on all of a sudden, like.’ Gwira laid a hand on Raena’s face. ‘Huh, I like not how cold she be.’
She leaned over and pried open the lids of Raena’s right eye. For a moment more Raena lay wrapped in her faint, but the fire crackled, a log burned through and dropped, and a brief flood of light leapt up and washed the room. Raena suddenly moaned. Gwira let her go and stepped back just as she woke, twisting under the blanket and moaning again. When she opened her eyes, Verrarc nearly wept with relief at seeing her soul look out of them. When he held out his hand, she worked hers free of the blanket and laid it in his grasp. It felt as cold and wet as if she’d grasped snow.
‘The light upon the eye, it do work wonders,’ Gwira said. ‘It does drive the spirit away.’
‘Here!’ Verrarc said. ‘You too think her possessed!’
‘I ken naught else that it might be.’ Gwira glanced at Korla. ‘Fetch me water, if you please. I can brew her up somewhat with a bit of strength in it, but after that, this be a matter for our Spirit Talker, not me.’
Korla shuddered and crossed her fingers again.
‘So,’ Verrarc whispered. ‘So! I wonder, then, if it truly were a spirit who did kill our Demet.’
‘It may be,’ Gwira said. ‘And if so, then it does threaten the town still.’
‘Harl?’ Verrarc turned to find him trembling in the doorway. ‘Go fetch Mistress Werda. It were best she knew of this and now.’
‘Evil spirits,’ Kiel said. ‘Councilman Verrarc did say that he be as sure as sure that evil spirits murdered your man. They did try to possess his lady last night, says he.’
Niffa snorted and rolled her eyes heavenward.
‘Gwira does say it be true,’ Kiel went on, ‘and Harl and Korla, too. You see, the councilman came to my squad on the wall this dawn, and he did tell us all about it.’
‘That be hogwash!’ Niffa snarled. ‘I did see her, I tell you, laughing and prancing over Demet’s body.’
‘Ah, but did you see her slay him? Mayhap she did call up these spirits, but they did the murdering, not her. Or even, what if they did possess her that night, so she kenned not what she did?’
Niffa felt like slapping him. The whole family had gathered round the table in their main room, Dera in the chair at the head, Lael on one bench, Niffa and Kiel on the other. Dera sat twisting and untwisting a bit of rag with both hands. Lael leaned forward, elbows on the table. The fire in the hearth crackled and flared, sending a wash of light over Lael’s worn face. Niffa realized that she and Kiel both were waiting for their father to speak.
‘Did the Council of Five believe Verrarc?’ Lael said at last.
‘They did. Gwira did speak before them, but truly, what did make up their minds, it were the silver light that Gart and the watch saw that night. I mean, who but a spirit could have made that light glow on Citadel? The sergeant, he did see it clear as clear, and he be not a fanciful man.’
‘That be true a thousand times.’ Lael glanced her way. ‘Niffa, you do look as angry as a balked weasel!’
‘Well, if they do think it were a murdering spirit, never will they try Raena under our laws. Huh, if I did speak of visions and such, who would believe me?’
‘No one,’ Lael said. ‘And so you’d best not say one word.’
‘Da! How can you –’
‘Hush!’ Lael held up a broad hand for silence. ‘Think you I be happy with this whole thing? Demet’s mother and I, we did speak together but the other morn, and both of our hearts ache to see Demet’s death lawfully avenged. Yet would it gladden our hearts to lose you too? I’ve no heart to see you turned out of the town because the citizens, they do think you the worst sort of witch.’
Niffa opened her mouth and shut it again. When Dera made a little sound, the family turned toward her.
‘Your father be right.’ Dera wiped her eyes on the rag.
‘Of course I be so,’ Lael snapped. ‘Niffa, think! You be sure as sure the woman’s a murderer, when the whole town, it does think the opposite. Why?’
Niffa opened her mouth to answer only to have her words desert her. But a moment before she had known deep in her soul that Raena had murdered Demet and a host of other persons as well. She poisoned them. The words rang in her mind, but faced with Lael’s rational question, her mind refused to say more.
‘I know not,’ Niffa stammered. ‘I just do.’
‘Here, lass.’ Lael made his voice gentle. ‘Grief does put strange fancies in our minds. We all ken how well you loved your Demet. To lose him with not even a soul to blame – well, now.’
Niffa felt tears burn her eyes. She tried to wipe them away, but they spilled over and ran. Kiel flung one arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.
‘Hush, hush!’ he said. ‘Even if Raena did hang in the market square, would it bring our Demet back? Here, here, little sister! It aches my heart to see you so sad.’
Slowly the tears stopped. Niffa wiped her face on her sleeve and grabbed a twist of straw from the floor to blow her nose. She tossed the twist into the fire and watched it flare. May Raena burn with shame just as the straw burns! She looked up to find Lael watching her, one eyebrow raised, as if he knew she worked a wishing charm.
‘I do wonder one thing,’ Dera said. ‘What does Werda think of all this talk of spirits?’
‘I know not,’ Kiel said. ‘A fair bit, I should think.’
Later that same day Niffa learned Werda’s opinions on the matter. Lael and Niffa were sitting by their fire, while Dera lay tucked up in the big bed across the room to rest. Kiel had already gone to sleep in the other room, since he would be standing watch on the town walls again that night. At the door someone knocked in a loud quick drumming. Niffa ran to open it and found Werda, followed by her apprentice. She was a tall woman, Werda, and lean as well, all long bones and sharp angles, muffled up that morning in her white ceremonial cloak. Athra, her apprentice, wore an ordinary grey cloak, splashed here and there with whitewash, doubtless from the large bucket of the stuff that she was carrying. Athra’s face gleamed with ointment, thick smears of lard flecked with some sort of herb from the smell of it. Blonde and round, Athra had the sort of rosy skin that chaps from a wrong look.
‘Come in quick,’ Niffa said. ‘Do take of the warmth of our fire.’
‘My thanks,’ Werda said. ‘It be powerful