"The Merss family?"
"Yes. The ones who weren't killed yesterday."
"But they left years ago."
"I know. Why?"
"I don't know. It was years ago. Before I was born. I just heard about it."
"What did you hear?"
"They were the last of the followers of the dark way."
"What do followers of the dark way do that followers of the light way don't?"
"They practiced forbidden magic."
"What magic is forbidden?"
"They summoned demons."
As far as I could tell, she actually believed that. She was a witch, and she believed that. How can you practice the Art and yet remain so ignorant of it? It was nonsense, of course. There are such things as demons, and, yes, they can be summoned, but not by witchcraft. To summon a demon requires breaking through the barriers that separate realities—and no, that makes no more sense to me than it does to you, unless you happen to have studied necromancy, in which case you know a lot more about this stuff than I do so why are you asking me? But the point is, the art of the witch is simply to use the energy of the mind to manipulate probabilities, and there are strictly limited ways in which that can be done. Yeah, one time I caused a small object to be transported to me from thousands of miles away using witchcraft, and I know you aren't supposed to be able to do that, either; but that is a lot different from bending the entire shape of reality within a given space to make a rift in something that doesn't exist in the first place.
Besides, I was desperate that time. I don't want to think about it.
What mattered here wasn't whether the "dark" witches had actually done this, what mattered was that this woman thought they could. And this whole "dark" and "light" business had a smell to it that reminded me a lot of the mill—meaning it stank, if that was too subtle for you. The dark way? The light way? Who thinks like that? Who sees the world in those terms? It isn't something to be believed by anyone with any sense; it's something to convince the gullible of.
Which was the answer, wasn't it? Someone was trying to put one over on a lot of people. And, to judge from this woman, it was working.
So, then, why? In whose interest was it to believe that there were a group of people with this sort of power? Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to sell one hell of a big lie, and there had to be a reason for it.
And my family had been the casualty of a big lie; at least, those who hadn't gotten out—
"Wait, you said they left before you were born?"
She nodded.
"I thought they had only left ten or fifteen years ago."
"Oh, them. I don't think they were witches. They just left because, well, because having the name Merss isn't easy around here. I think they went to the City. It wasn't me!" she said suddenly, looking frightened again. "I mean, I didn't do anything to them, or even say anything about them. It was the others, you know."
"What about the ones who were witches?"
"They left the country. Some say they went West to sell their souls to the elfs."
Yeah, some would say that.
"And the ones who were killed—who did it?"
"I don't know!" She sounded close to panic.
"I'm not accusing you. But you must have an idea, a theory. You heard about it, you must have, had a thought about who it was."
She shook her head.
Was there any way to get more information out of her? Probably not. I could spend an hour getting her calmed down and she still wouldn't want to name anyone. And if I applied pressure, she'd be much more likely to lie than to point the finger at someone who deserved it. That still might be useful information, though. I was in a sort of mood to apply pressure anyway, just for the satisfaction of seeing someone sweat. But I had something to do, and I'd get more pleasure out of squeezing when I knew it was the right person being squeezed.
Which brought me back to the point that this woman might well know who that was, if only I could find a way to convince her to tell me. Without spending all night at it. Damn, damn, damn.
"Are you going to kill me?"
I realized that I'd been standing there for quite a while, not saying anything. "No," I said. "The Coven, where does it meet?"
"East of town, in the woods. I don't know exactly. We come to a place near the creek, then they blindfold us and take us one at a time."
Yeah, they would.
"Okay," I said. "I'm done with you. Feel free to tell anyone you want about my visit, and about the questions I asked. No doubt someone will be angry and some people will come after me. When they do, I'll kill them. Then I'll come back and kill you. If you think that's a good argument for keeping your mouth shut, you're probably right, but it's up to you. In any case, I would suggest you remain here and not leave the house or make a sound for at least an hour or so, but that's also up to you. Meanwhile, rest well."
I put my knife away and walked out of the room. The fellow on the floor was now snoring. I gave serious consideration to kicking him, but didn't; I went past him, out the door, and into the star-studded night of Fenario.
"Well, Loiosh?"
"Well, what, Boss? If you want to summon a demon, I'm afraid you're on your own."
"Yeah, I don't think I'm up for that. That was a lot of information. I have to think about it, about what it means. If anything. Loiosh, didn't Sethra once say something about a lie being temporary? How did she put it?"
"I don't remember. But, Boss, I don't think the lie is your problem."
"No, I guess not. It's just another thing to add to the list. It's getting to be a pretty long list, Loiosh. And I am going to find out the name that needs to go at the top of it."
"Left here. There, that light on your right is the inn."
I made it back without mishap. I had to bang on the door to convince the host to let me in. I could have picked the lock in the dark, but I had no interest in letting it be known that I could do that. He glowered at me as he opened the door; I gave him a warm smile and went past him up to my room, where I stripped off my outer garments, and threw myself onto the bed. The last thing I remember was Loiosh and Rocza, perched next to each other on the chair, twining their necks around each other. It reminded me of something painful, but I fell asleep before I could remember exactly what it was.
Boraan: Nothing is confusing once the facts are assembled and the proper conclusions drawn. Lefitt: Nonsense, darling. All the facts and conclusions about a confusing situation simply confirm the confusion. Boraan: You think so? Lefitt: I'm afraid I do, though I do hate to dispute our lovely epigram. Boraan: Your lovely epigram, my dear. I was quoting you during the affair of the Fisherman's Lamp. Lefitt: Yes, my love, only I said it after we had solved the crime.
—Miersen, Six Parts Water Day Two, Act II, Scene 3
I'd forgotten to close the shutters again, and so woke with the Furnace burning painfully into my eyes. I cursed for a little while, then got up and closed them, because it is better to close the shutters than curse the light, or however that goes. I tried to sleep some more but it didn't take.