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“Weaker minds do make things easier—for them and for me. Sit.”
As they sat down, Lucia gestured for the barmaid and asked for two apple ciders and a bowl of lamb stew for Kyan.
“No wine?” the barmaid asked, a hand on her plump hip. “Most fine ladies like yourself can only tolerate a place like this with some wine in their bellies.”
“I don’t indulge in wine.”
“No wine?” The barmaid snorted. “What are you, a Limerian?” She turned around without waiting for a reply, and Lucia followed her with a narrowed gaze until she disappeared into the crowd.
In the far corner of the tavern, a trio of flutists started up with a song, and the room began to quiet down.
The show was beginning.
Lucia was here to find a dancer known as the Goddess of Serpents, and now she knew that she was in the right place. As the trio’s melody hit its first crescendo, a young woman emerged from behind the stage. Her arms, legs, and face were streaked with golden paint, and her raven-black hair was long, falling nearly to her knees, with slender braids scattered around her face. Her blue eyes were heavily outlined with kohl. She wore an ornate jeweled mask that covered half of her face, and all that covered her lithe, tanned body was a costume of diaphanous scarves and veils. Such an outfit wouldn’t have turned a single head in a more exotic locale, like Kraeshia, but here it was a shocking sight, at least to Lucia. But the most shocking aspect of the girl’s appearance was not her revealing outfit; rather, it was the large, snow-white boa constrictor draped over her shoulders.
The crowd roared with approval as the Goddess of Serpents danced and swayed her hips to the music, as her pet snake’s tongue shot out every few seconds, as if searching for its next meal.
When the dance ended, the crowd cheered for more, and the snake goddess blew them all kisses, promising to return later that afternoon.
She was about to retreat backstage when Lucia reached into her drawstring purse and pulled out a handful of coins, setting them on the table before her. Lucia watched the dancer stop, raise a curious brow at the clank and sparkle of silver, then turn around and walk over to the table. She stood before Lucia and Kyan, offering them both a big smile.
“Welcome to The Purple Vine, friends,” she purred as she stroked the head of the white snake still wrapped over her shoulders like a scaly shawl.
Lucia pushed the coins toward her. “Sit with us for a moment.”
There was only a slight hesitation before the dancer snatched up the coins, wrapped them up in one of her scarves, and took a seat.
Suddenly, Lucia found that she was nervous, and it had very little to do with the serpent. How ridiculous. She was the one in control here. Silver would buy her the answers she needed, and if it didn’t, her magic would.
The barmaid returned with their ciders and Kyan’s stew. Lucia waited for her to leave before she spoke another word.
“The Goddess of Serpents is such a lovely name,” Lucia said, willing her voice to stay calm and even. “But what’s your real one?”
The girl smiled. “Laelia.”
“I see. And I take it you’re not an actual goddess.”
“That is a matter of opinion.” She smiled and slid a hand up Lucia’s arm as her pet wound closer around its mistress’s body. “For a few more coins I would be happy to make you and your handsome friend feel like a god and goddess tonight. This is a special offer, one I only rarely make, and only to those special souls to whom I take an immediate liking.”
Lucia shot Laelia a sharp, withering look, and the dancer withdrew her hand, as if burned. “Apologies,” she said, clearly frightened. “Perhaps I misinterpreted your intentions. . . .”
“You certainly did.”
“Another time perhaps.” Laelia composed herself, leaning back leisurely in her seat and placing a fresh smile on her red lips. “So. Why, then, did you lure me over to your table with a gift of more coin than I can earn here in a month?”
Kyan remained silent and focused on his meal, letting Lucia take the lead.
“I was told you might know something about a prophecy,” Lucia said.
Laelia’s smile wavered. “A prophecy?”
“Yes,” Lucia said, humoring the girl’s feigned ignorance but growing impatient. “A prophecy about a child said to wield the magic of a sorceress. When this prophecy came to fruition, two witches stole that baby from her cradle and murdered the mother. This happened somewhere in Paelsia, nearly seventeen years ago.”
“What a tragic story,” Laelia said, the skin above her mask now nearly as pale as her cold-blooded companion. “But I’m sorry, I don’t know how I can be helpful to you.”
“How old are you?” Lucia said. The girl was obviously lying. “Nineteen? Twenty? You would’ve been very young at the time, but I imagine a tale like that—of murder and kidnapping all in the same night—would have been passed around Paelsian villages for many years. I know you know the story I speak of.”
Laelia stood up, her breath quickening. “Why are you asking me these questions?”
