“There have been no bodies. No graves. We’ve combed the surrounding villages, and they have also reported missing women, and even children. They cannot have disappeared into thin air. They must be held somewhere.”
“Children?” I breathed, dizzy. My thoughts stuttered, unable to continue.
“Young girls, mostly. We want to search the Baron’s estate. I think the bodies—whether they live or not—must be there. We need your magic to shroud our search.”
“I don’t …” But I snapped my jaw shut. My mind could not immediately lay hold of a work that would enable their search, but I would not say that. I would find a way. I would find the spell. Anything to put this to an end. I nodded. “But after, you must deliver me to the edge of the village and bring Dacia to me.”
Tobin nodded his agreement. “You have my word.”
“And I must be back before nightfall. You must understand how important it is. Can you guarantee that?”
“If those are the terms, we must leave at once.” Tobin stood and gave a piercing, strange whistle.
The camp suddenly erupted into motion. It seemed only the blink of an eye and the bandits had the fire stomped out, tents buttoned up,and horses ready, clad in the same leaf-litter tunics and hoods that covered their hollow.
Tobin rode up and gave me his arm. “Give us wings, witch.”
With a foreboding I couldn’t quite shake, I grabbed his arm and swung onto the horse behind him. We rode out of the hollow as a group, but quickly each rider fell off and disappeared into the woods.
The Baron.
It made sense, the answer right under our nose all this time. But what could I have done about it, if I had not had these long months of struggling? In that moment, every bit of pain and struggle seemed worth it. I gripped Tobin’s waist and steadied myself as we rode through the forest.
Aware of how little time I had, I searched my mind for all I’d learned from both Lord Death and Perchta for a working that would aid us—without any ingredients—and provide the kind of cover Tobin and his men would need. Absorbed in my thoughts, the ride seemed much faster. I was surprised when Tobin stopped the horse at a low stone wall that cut through the forest and slid to the ground. He gestured for silence and motioned that we were to go on foot. I was running out of time.
The forest we moved through was thinner and not as old. It did not have the ancient awareness that I was used to. We crept through the underbrush, Tobin communicating with the others with a whistling that mimicked the birds. I had to stay close, nearly touching him, for he was easy to lose, even little more than an arm’s reach in front of me. I wished he had not been so resistant to the idea of his gifts, for that gleam of an other, inner nature seemed more evident to me than ever.
Soon, we came to the edge, stopping at the border between brush and bush, glade and grass. Here, Tobin turned to me, expectant.
“You may begin your spell, witch.”
I blanched, my gaze fixed on the gleaming white stone maison. It stood in a large, rolling green valley with a gravel road that wound toan ordered courtyard. The grass was clipped, and beyond the house the Baron’s fields were thick and golden with the last of the harvest. On the wind came the heavy sweet scent of sun-ripened grapes.
From this vantage, I would not be able to do anything; I’d have to cast a spell over the entire valley and I had no such power.
I shook my head. “This is too far. And I need to know where the Baron is.”
He put two fingers to his mouth, silencing me. Those piercing green eyes met mine and he leaned in close. “The Baron left last night, but we do not know when he might return. We must move quickly.”
“Where are you planning to search?”
He pulled from his tunic a tightly folded piece of parchment, grubby hands unfolding it to show me a crude map. “One of my men got the layout from a kitchen maid. We especially want to search the cellars.”
“I must be closer,” I said, taking the map. He started to pull it back. “I need it,” I whispered, and he let it go.
It felt so exposed, to jog down the hill toward the maison without any cover of trees. My mind was racing as fast as my feet. I could not transform us, but I could maybe cover us in silence? A worm of despair threaded through my stomach. Spells took so much work, so much time, so much thought. I was afraid of failing, but also of being captured. Tobin kept glancing at me, worry in those green eyes. I didn’t bother explaining, just waved my hand forward every time he stopped as though to ask,Is this far enough. No, it wasn’t. No matter what working I chose, I would need to be as close to them as possible.
Finally, we came to the edge of the white gravel paths near the stables. The spirit of an elderly farmhand hung over the gate, staring at me. I looked away, swallowed, and pushed my hand to motion us onward again. The barest thought of a spell began to build. A kind of cloaking—pulled from bits and pieces of illusion spells I remembered and the memory of making myself a mouse on the first day I had spotted the bandits.
As we crept along, I grabbed a piece of white stone to use as chalk.
Tobin whistled—a common trill of a bird—and another one followed a few seconds later. Then he grabbed my hand and pulled me into the stable.
“This has to be good enough,” he whispered, throwing me into an empty stall. He gave me a look, then disappeared as silently as he’d arrived.
A stall, of all places. I thought of the girl who had traded her virginity in a stall for a meal, and it felt like another lifetime altogether. I couldn’t even imagine where that girl would be if she had not arrived at Josef’s or been buried alive. What if I had found some way to survive as a washer girl or gone back to the convent? Would I still be living in quiet, wretched fear of myself?
But I couldn’t afford to be distracted thinking of the past. I crouched down tight in the corner, satisfied that I’d be out of view and have a place to focus. I could just glimpse the edge of the roofline over the stall door.
