Karen Chance - The Queens Witch

The Queens Witch

Karen Chance

SmashwordsEdition.

Copyright 2010 KarenChance

Chapter One

Light from inside the weather-beatenstructure leaked out through the shutters, striping the plank ofdriftwood over the door in flickering bands of gold. Therewas no name on the sign, but most of the taverns clientelecouldnt read anyway. And the image it bore was really quitegood enough.

The corpse-green paint was starting topeel, adding to the gruesomeness of what appeared to be a rottingbody surrounded by waving tentacles. In fact, the Dead Spaniard was named after anunfortunate sailor who washed ashore while it was being built,wrapped in seaweed like a shroud. Id always thought the nameappropriate, considering the taverns reputation as the best placeto get a knife in the back in London.

Not that anyone was likely to bother stabbingme. Two days in a stinking gaol and another three on the runhad left me looking like a beggar, with the filthy gown, dirty faceand staring eyes of a madwoman. Anywhere else, Id haveworried about my reception; here, I fit right in. I skirted apuddle of sick, ducked under the low hanging sign and pushed openthe door.

Ahead was a small hallway that let out into abig main room dimly lit by fire and rush light. It was morecrowded than usual, because a new rogue was being admitted into thecompany of thieves who used the tavern as their base. A youngman with a thin face and bleary eyes stood on a chair, grinninggamely as his brothers in crime dumped a massive flagon over hishead.

At least it might kill afew lice , I thought, and started forward--only to havea staff catch me in the belly.

Wots the word? the old man holdingit demanded, while his pet monkey watched me with round, black eyesfrom a perch on his shoulder.

I was in gaol last week; I dont knowthe word, I said, trying to push past.

The staff was removed from my flesh only tobe slammed into the wall in front of me, hard enough to driveanother dent into the pockmarked wood. Then ye dont get in.

You know me! I said impatiently, butI didnt attempt to remove the barrier.

Solomon le Bone didnt look like much. His hair was a wispy yellowish gray--what little he had left ofit--his hands were twisted and gnarled from age, and one of hiseyes was milky white and unseeing. But his magic was asstrong as ever, whereas mine was all but depleted.

Dont matter. Ye need theword. He squinted at me suspiciously through his goodeye. Could be one of the demmed Circle, under aglamourie.

He was referring to the ancient group oflight magic users which had recently established themselves as theguardians of the supernatural community--whether it liked it ornot. Theyre the ones who threw me in prison! I saidheatedly, pushing limp red hair out of my eyes.

Aye. And when they takesomebody, they dont come back. Yet here ye are. Sol said itwith the air of a senior barrister making a brilliant closingargument.

Fulke, the old mans son, shot me asympathetic glance from behind the counter, but made no move tointervene. Clearly, I was on my own. I stood theretrying not to sway on my feet, because showing weakness here was agood way to get a knife through the ribs.

Or to lose ones purse.

I felt my belt suddenly get lighter, butbefore I could react, the damned monkey was back on his mastersshoulder, chattering at me in what sounded suspiciously likelaughter. I made a grab for him, but missed when he performed animpossible acrobatic maneuver and ended up hanging by his tail froma rafter. He managed to twist his neck so that his head wasupright, allowing him to watch me smugly while dangling my pursejust out of reach.

Give that back! I ordered. Hisonly response was to show me a withered arse before beginning topaw through his prize.

I glared at him, wishing I had enoughstrength left for one good immolate . Hed always been a flea-ridden,smelly, evil creature with a habit of throwing feces at anyone whodispleased him. Everyone had breathed a sigh of relief whenhe finally died three years ago. The relief hadnt lastedlong. Old Solomon had just enough necromancy to bring thelittle horror back, but not enough to make him look like anythingmore than what he wasan animated sack of fur and bones with, ifpossible, even more of a bad temper than before.

That was demonstrated when he managed to getthe purse strings untied. He stared at the pebbles in his pawfor a moment, before chucking them contemptuously at my head. I lifted my staffI might not be able to throw a spell, but I couldat least club him with it--but he flipped back onto the beam,skittered along its length and leapt onto a table, upsetting apatrons trencher as he made his escape.

The man mostly looked relieved, as anyone whohad ever tasted the taverns fish stew could understand, and themiscreant vanished into the shadows at the back of the pub. Useless thing, Sol said, frowning. Ive trained him betterthan that.

I should damned well hope so, I said,surprised to get even that much of an apology out of the oldman.

He ought to know the difference by nowbetween a purse o coin and a bag of rocks, he finished tetchily.Where do ykeep the real one?

I dont. Thanks to the Circle, Idont have a penny for a pint right now!

Another reason not tlet ye in, hesaid complacently, tipping his stool back against thewall.

I fished a ring out of my real purse, apocket sewed inside my kirtle. It was set with a large squarecut ruby of a deep blood red hue, a good stone. It should beenough for what I wanted.

Not a penny, Sol mocked, as I handedit over.

Not in coin, no. I took that offa vampire.

Best be careful, girl, he told me,fishing a jewelers loupe off a string around his neck. Stealing from their kind is a dicey business.

Thats the only good thing about beinglocked up, I said bitterly. Theres not much more can bedone to you.

Sol cackled delightedly. Ye stole itoff him while ingaol ?

I needed travelling money.

And what was a vampire doin in amages prison? I thought they policed their own.

He wasnt a prisoner, I said shortly,wanting to hurry this up. I could almost feel the Circlesnoose closing in. And considering how many people theyd lostin the escape, a noose is exactly what it would be as soon as theycaught me.

But Sol didnt appear to feel the same. Usually terse to the point of rudeness, he must have had a pint orthree before I arrived, because tonight he was almost chatty. Then what was he doin there? he asked again, taking his timeexamining the jewel.

I dont know. Some damn foolstory about working for the queen and wanting my help.

Wanting ter help himself to dinner,more like.

I didnt reply. I also didnt touch thespot on my throat, under my shift, where hed bitten me. Theinterlude had been a strange one, and I wasnt sure what I feltabout it. Not that it mattered; Id never see him again.

If I was lucky, Id never see anyone inEngland again.

The thought sent an unexpected pang throughme, but I shoved it away. Youve seen it, I saidimpatiently. Whatll you give?

But Sols beady eye was no longer fixedon the ring. The legs on his stool hit the floor with a thumpand he wheezed out a breath through his missing front teeth. Where did ye get that ?

He was staring in disbelief at the staff inmy hand. The long piece of wood was ebony dark, cured bycenturies of careful handling. It felt satiny smooth under mytouch, with a faint tingle where my fingers rested. Icouldnt blame him for his surprise; it wasnt every day that anancient Druid weapon was spotted in the hand of a dirty thief.

Of course, until a few days ago, it had beenin worse ones. One of the mages serving as gaolers had takenit from its rightful owner, a leader of one of the greatcovens. He had died soon thereafter, in the fighting that hadled to my escape, and Id somehow ended up with it. I was athief, but this I would have returned, had there been anyone leftwith a right to it. But the Old Mother had died in gaol, andthe covens were scattered and broken, their leaders dead or inhiding.