Page 34 of The Queen’s Witch

“My Third was not available.”

Now I had her complete attention. The sunken eyes bored into me. What could she see? Apparently, not much, since she shot questions like arrows.

“Not ‘available’? Be yer Third a person, then?”

“Yes.”

“Man or woman?”

“Woman.”

“Be she living?”

“Yes.”

“Do ye know where she is?”

“Yes.”

“And ye have approached her and she refused?”

“Yes. But things can change. Perhaps—”

The witch guffawed. “Ye tell me that things can change? Girl, ye be but a babe. I have seen more change than a dalcop like ye can imagine!”

“I am not dull witted. If you do not accept my pact, then I will leave you now. Or turn me into a toad if you wish.”

“Ah, Sarah Lond, ye want that less than ye did a moment ago. Ye hope I will agree, and so I might. Ye will do anything I ask and, when ye bring me yer Third, I will tie yer thrice-braided cord.”

“Not ‘do anything you ask.’ I said ‘serve you,’ cooking and tending and cleaning and such. But I will not kill nor gravely injure others.”

“And ye think I could not do that for myself?”

She could, of course. Her spells would be much more powerful than mine.

She said, “Ye come from the North, by yer accent. How do ye speak like gentry? Can ye read?”

“Yes. My grandmother taught me to speak well and to read.”

“Can ye write?”

“A little.”

“Yer grandmother be dead.” It was not a question.

“Yes.”

“And yer familiar be that mouse in yer pocket.”

“Yes.”

She chewed on her lip. “Anything I ask, ye will do, provided no one come to grave bodily injury or death.”

“Yes. But not forever. Until, let us say, midnight of Samhain. That is long enough for you to be healed. And you will teach me the great magicks.”

“Which ye cannot perform without tying yer cord. So ye want to know empty forms.”

“Yes.”