She broke off. There was no easy way to explain what it meant to be a witch. The scent of warm earth and blood, the wind through the trees, the touch of sun and shade upon the skin: these things explained her as much as anything. The people of Llehden knew that. They treated her like a local Aspect, with fearful respect, understanding that she was nothing like them. At times she lived like a noblewoman, with children bringing food and clothes for her, sent to her to see and to know their local witch, to understand what a witch was, as their parents had done, and their parents' parents. They grew up knowing the witch was beyond normal cares, yet still she cared for them. Like the animals of the forest, the deer and the wolves, she watched over the people who were part of Llehden's fabric. If the Coldhand folk stole a baby, it was she who would stride off into the night to fetch it back, no matter what the cost. She would face down vengeful spectres and ease difficult births, whichever way they had to go. In some ways she was more similar to Isak than the young man would ever realise; in others, more opposite than seemed possible for allies.
'What is this danger?' Isak asked quietly. Xeliath's words had calmed him, and the witch's words too had had some effect. He remained silent for a minute, then asked, 'Don't you think I have enough troubles to be dealing with?'
'The danger is not just to you but to us all.' 'But I'm the one you want to do something about it?' 'You have been given your gifts for a reason. Such blessings are not random. Whether you choose to be deaf to it or not, your destiny is calling.' The witch sighed. She could see her manner grated on him, and was reminded briefly of the King of Narkang. King Emin, like white-eyes, had a natural ability to stir emotion in others. Isak and Emin both had a majestic presence that demanded obedience from – or roused antipathy in – those around them. That the witch was obviously immune was clearly nagging at Isak, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.
'My destiny is calling?' Isak said. 'There are quite a few opinions about my destiny, and none of them agree.'
'Your opinion is the only one that matters,' the witch said. 'You have broken away from whatever plan any God or daemon had for you, and now all that remains is to find out whether you have the strength to accept the burden of your remarkable abilities.'
Isak looked away from her, silent.
'And your hand?' she asked.
Isak instinctively glanced down, sliding the hand slightly into his sleeve. 'The side-effect of a spell,' he muttered. 'I hadn't realised there would be a price.'
The witch raised her eyebrows. 'There is a price to everything; even in the unnatural world, as any mage will tell you. The only question is what that price is, and for whom it is worth paying that price.'
'You want me to judge people's worth?' Isak asked in surprise.
'Absolutely not; help those you can and leave judgment to the Gods.'
And that's why you called me here,' Isak guessed.
The witch nodded. 'I have felt a shadow over the Land, a shadow that gathers over a city to your south.' She saw a bank of wind roll over the wheat behind Isak, as though her words had caused a shiver in Xeliath's mind. They felt nothing, though. The breeze itself passed as if it did not exist.
'Scree?' Isak said, surprised. 'That's where Emin – the King of Narkang – has gone.'
'How do you know that?' Xeliath demanded, breaking her silence. She walked back to Isak's side and took his hand in hers.
The witch watched, thinking for a moment that the girl really was afraid, but as Xeliath ran her fingers down the inside of Isak's massive palm it was clear that she was just making the most of her restored senses.
'One of his agents told me,' Isak admitted. 'I think Emin wanted me to hold off a full-scale assault until he's found whatever he's hunting there.'
'Do not march your army into Scree at all; there is a scent of mad¬ness and pain hanging over that city. Invasion would only worsen it. The shadow hanging over the city-'
'Shadow?' Isak interrupted sharply. 'What sort of shadow?'
'I know only that I sense a darkness there.' The witch frowned. 'Does it mean anything to you?'
Isak looked uncomfortable as both women looked at him. After a moment he admitted, 'It's probably nothing, but- Well, I'm sure there's been a shadow watching me in the past. And King Emin is preparing to wage war against some shadow-daemon he calls Azaer. Do you recognise the name?'
They both shook their heads. The witch had heard little enough of Azaer, and if the boy already considered the shadow an enemy, there was nothing more for her to tell him.
'Maybe the shadow is watching me, especially since I was sent to Narkang to forge links between our two nations.' He stopped and leaned closer to Xeliath. The girl was not the only one to find comfort in their contact, it appeared.
'What would you have me do?' he asked eventually. 'Going to Narkang with only a bodyguard when I was Krann was one thing, but I'm the Lord of the Farlan now. King Emin might be able to manage
t hat, but I'm a little more conspicuous. You might need to find some¬
one else to fight your battles this time – or maybe go yourself.'
'I am.' That tripped the great lump, the witch thought with a twitch of satisfaction.
'You're going to Scree? Alone?'
'Not entirely. I have a travelling companion. He is also somewhat conspicuous, but the journey is long and I will need a guardian.'
Isak shifted his feet, keeping eye contact, as if he could see some extra truth in her eyes.
The witch saw he was curious, both about her companion, and about what exactly was going on in Scree. She let the questions bubble in his head, then pressed her point. 'The shadow over Scree brings a convergence. It draws King Emin in, as it has Siala, and I fear many others.' And if 1 had any choice you would be kept far away from that place, but I think it's gone too far, she thought to herself. It may be that our only chance to stop it is to meet power with power. If that doesn't work, we must hope that at least it will make you understand the gravity of the situation.
'What is it that you fear?' Isak said softly.
The witch hesitated. 'They are men and women of power in Scree, these mercenaries, mages, lords and warriors. The White Circle will have no choice but to recruit mercenaries to protect the city, unnatural mercenaries, like those that call themselves Raylin, after a long-dead Elven warrior cult. The name flatters them, but they are monstrously powerful warriors, with all manner of magical abilities, and they're innately drawn to violence. If they are left to run unchecked, they will fuel the destruction.'
'People like you and your travelling companion?' Isak gave a rather forced smile. 'Men like me? Is the only difference the fact that I have a title and the mark of a God on my soul?'
'I hope the difference is greater than that. These people are savage and brutal – if you were truly one of them, you would be a plague upon the Land.'
'And have you appointed yourself the Land's protector?'
The witch froze. How dare this swaggering pup accuse me of that? Her mother had cried the day she told her she was to learn witchcraft. It had sounded exciting then, but years later, the witch understood why her mother had whispered, 'I'm sorry it must be so, but a witch is needed here, and a witch there shall be.'
She bit her lip. One hot temper was bad enough, and she had two to contend with here. 'Take care how you insult those who would be your allies,' the witch warned. 'You are not the only one appointed to a role in this life, so be thankful you at least are well rewarded.' She lifted her shirt, exposing her belly and a mess of scar tissue. 'This is my reward for doing what must be done. This scar was from a colprys; its claws opened me up as I killed it. I had to sew myself back together while lying on the forest floor with scavengers sniffing all around.'
She remembered the weight of the colprys, the talons puncturing her gut. In the forest twilight its rough grey skin had been hard to distinguish; only the hisses and snorts and the tremble of the branches as it moved from tree to tree gave it away. It had so nearly not been enough. The witch shivered. 'Have you ever stitched yourself together, my Lord? It is far from pleasant. I was not asked to drive the colprys away from that village, because they knew I would not need asking. It is the path I have accepted for this life.'