She hesitated, briefly considering leaving the knife on the ground, then picked it up and headed back to the camp. It wasn’t easy going. The trees seemed to be closing in around her, as if they were moving when she wasn’t looking. She thought she was being silly, and yet the sensation of something right behind her, breathing down her neck, refused to go away. It was all she could do to walk calmly, despite an urge to either flee or hurl a fireball into the empty air behind her. If it hit something… she breathed a sigh of relief when she found the road, then started to make her way back to the camp. Hoban had to be informed. He could decide what to do.
Granny said we should bury the artefact and forget we ever saw it, she recalled, numbly. She hadn’t seen anything of the hedge witch, since she’d delivered her warning, And Hoban refused to listen.
The thought haunted her as she reached the boundary line and crossed into the village. Hoban was standing there, talking to Ivanovo. Frieda nearly flinched. It was hard not to fear what Ivanovo might be saying to Hoban, even though it was unlikely Ivanovo would be able to poison his mind. And yet… she gritted her teeth, reminding herself that the macho code of the mountains didn’t apply to magicians. If Ivanovo told Hoban everything, or even hinted at everything, it would probably be the last thing he ever did.
Ivanovo really did flinch when he saw her. Frieda was almost pleased.
“The tracking spell kept twisting,” Frieda said, talking an unholy delight in talking over the headman’s son. It was rare for any woman to have a chance to speak in the village, certainly not before the men. The sheer disrespect she’d shown would grate on him, all the more because he couldn’t strike back at her. “It felt as if he was teleporting.”
“Or someone was concealing his location,” Hoban finished. “There’s a lot of wild magic in the air. It could have disrupted the spell.”
“Or the Awful Folk got him,” Ivanovo said. “He was their lawful pray…”
“It wasn’t as if the magic was disrupting the spell,” Frieda said, interrupting Ivanovo. She knew she was being petty, but — for once — it felt awfully good. “It was more as if he was being whisked around, impossibly fast.”
“Curious,” Hoban said. “We’ll send a messenger to his master if he doesn’t show up by nightfall.”
Frieda bit her tongue to keep from telling Hoban they had to act now. He might not notice, or care, if she undercut him in public, but Ivanovo would. And then… she wanted to think it wouldn’t matter, when both Frieda and Hoban were powerful sorcerers, but she knew better. Ivanovo would think Hoban was weak — his woman was daring to contradict him in front of watching eyes, the horror—and it would rebound on them somehow. She promised herself she’d discuss it later, when they were in the tents. She could chat with him, as well as make love, before she went to her own tent.
The villagers might have done something to him, she thought coldly, but how could they have hidden him from my charm?
Her thoughts raced as she left the two men and headed to the tents. The charm had been cast perfectly. She’d checked. If Sir Wheaton had been killed, the charm wouldn’t have worked at all. If he’d been wounded and left to die, or simply held prisoner somewhere, the charm should have led her straight to him. Unless a sorcerer had hidden him, in which case the charm shouldn’t have locked on to anything… she frowned, wishing she knew more about how the spells actually worked. Was she facing a curiously improved obscurification charm, tied into a concealment ward? She thought it was possible…
No, she thought. That wouldn’t give us a variable location. The charm would just refuse to locate him.
She puzzled over it for the rest of the day, wishing — again — Emily or Alassa or even Jade or Aloha were with her. She’d even take Cat. And yet… she spoke briefly to Hoban, who was dismissive. She didn’t really blame him — Sir Wheaton might interfere at a crucial moment, making it impossible for the diggers to complete their mission — but it still worried her. She wouldn’t have reported the villagers for killing the bastard. She just wanted to know what had happened to him for her peace of mind.
“You could stay, you know,” Hoban said, afterwards. “I’ll be on the far side of the tent.”
Frieda shook her head, feeling a twinge of affection. He was trying to be kind… she smiled, despite herself, as she slipped out of the tent. It was too small for his offer, as well meant as it was, to mean much. And yet…
She paused as she sensed the darkness pooling over the land. The artefact was a pit of darkness… no, it was impossibly tall and yet tiny beyond words. She could see it, even though it was hidden in the shadows. She had the sense of mighty workings spinning around her, gone almost as soon as she sensed them. People moving in the shadows.
That night, she dreamed. And woke up screaming.
Chapter 5
Chapter 5
“Where the hell is he?”
Frieda started awake, half-convinced Hoban had torn down her wards, burst into her private tent and was shouting at her. The tent was empty… in her dazed state, it took her several moments to realise that her boyfriend was outside and that he was shouting at someone else. Her dreams… she gritted her teeth, trying to recall the shadows that had haunted her. There’d been something, casting a long shadow over her, and… she clambered out of the bedroll, pulled her tunic over her underclothes and poked her head out of the tent.
Hoban was addressing Ivanovo and his gang, who looked torn between nervousness and grim obstinacy. Frieda sighed, inwardly. She knew that look. The mountainfolk could only be pushed so far before they started pushing back, even if it cost them everything.
“Where?” Hoban’s anger was almost palpable. “Where is he?”
“Great Lord, we don’t know.” Ivanovo’s voice shook. “He should have been up here!”
Frieda cleared her throat as a cold gust of air blew across the campsite. The artefact’s brooding presence hung in the air, a mocking reminder they were touching something very inhuman. The diggers were gathered by the edge of the site, save for Hoban and Frieda herself. They looked pissed. Frieda wondered, numbly, what had gone wrong. She hadn’t seen someone look so angry and frustrated since Cat had had a nasty fight with Emily and stormed off…
“Garry hasn’t shown up for work,” Hoban hissed. His anger made the local lads flinch. Again. They might not have seen his magic, but they knew he had it. “And a bunch of tools are missing.”
“I see.” Frieda frowned. It wasn’t uncommon for the mountainfolk to harass unwelcome visitors, but stealing tools was odd. Stealing brides was one thing, stealing tools and everything else that kept people alive through the winter was quite another. “I’ll go down to his home, see if I can find him. You stay with the diggers.”
She saw Ivanovo’s face twist. He might know what had happened to the tools — like most commoners, he was very good at hiding his feelings in front of his betters — but even if he didn’t, the village was likely to suffer. He’d assume the diggers would make them pay for the tools… at the very least, given they probably didn’t have the money to pay for even one of the lost items, they wouldn’t be paid for their services over the last few weeks. Frieda tried not to roll her eyes as she walked past them to the campfire and took a ration bar, then made her way down to the road. Behind her, she could hear Hoban driving the locals back to work. He wasn’t going to let something as minor as missing tools stand between him and the artefact.