I didn’t mean to intrude.”
I imagined I would always hold some bitterness toward the Shantel, but I would never knowingly intrude on a private ritual.
“You are not intruding,” she replied. “You are replying. So I ask you, whom do you mourn? The music would not call to you for any other reason.”
“I’m not mourning anyone,” I said. “I wanted to talk to you about …” I trailed off. Was I really about to tell a complete stranger that I had once been involved in an assassination attempt that had nearly killed Jeshickah herself? And I wanted to try
again
?
The witch’s eyes widened slightly, and she said, “I can only hope that his rest is peaceful. I cannot go to that place to help guide him back to our land. I do not think Midnight even buries its dead.”
“I think they burn them,” I said, my mouth suddenly pasty. She was talking about the deathwitch I had been thinking about. “Can you read my mind?”
“No,” she answered, “but I can feel the deaths that you have known, especially when your mind turns to them. Two of your deaths occurred in Midnight’s cells.”
I frowned. The witch had been the only …
“Oh,”
I whispered as I realized who she meant. “Shkei. I wasn’t there when he died.”
“Your heart was,” she answered. “You mourn for him.”
“Can you tell me anything about him?” I asked. I didn’t really want to hear about my friend’s grisly demise at a trainer’s hands, but if he had to die alone, how could I shut out the details?
“He wasn’t alone,” the deathwitch said.
“He was with the trainer, I assume.” That wasn’t any better.
“No.” Staring deep within the fire, she said, “He was with someone who cared about him. Someone he cared about.”
Misha? No—she had been back with us by the time Malachi told us Shkei was dead.
“I’m sorry,” the witch said. “I know nothing more.”
That was fine. Mourning the dead was important, but I would far rather save the living, if I could. “Do you know about the spell the other deathwitch created, to poison the vampires?”
She winced. “Yes,” she said, barely a whisper. “So many deaths. I felt them all. I do not know how one of us could have crafted such a poison. It is a perversion of our power to destroy any life, even one we despise.”
So much for hoping she would try again
, I thought.
“They were all children once, you know,” the deathwitch said, again looking away from me. “Even the mighty Jeshickah was born human. The trainer known as Jaguar has a blood-sister among the Azteka who cannot help but seek the brother she once knew. The one known as Gabriel is as dark a villain as any of us can imagine, but they say he loves his hawk.”
Alasdair
. The woman we sold. “His slave, you mean.”
“I do,” she agreed. “He loves her, nonetheless. But he is broken, and does not know how to love something and let it be free at the same time.”
“Are you trying to convince me the trainers aren’t evil?” I asked incredulously. With her own prince on the brink of belonging to them, how could she make such a claim?
“They
are
evil,” the witch said flatly. “But once, they were children. I cannot prophesy the future, the way thesakkri can, but I can see and mourn what they might have been, if they had not been twisted into what they are.”
Can you see who Alasdair would have been, if we hadn’t sold her into that place? What about Misha—who would she have been, if she had never entered those stone walls?
I didn’t ask. Some questions were better left unanswered.
I TRIED TO conceal my frustration as I returned to Shane, though I realized it was probably futile. What was the point of
prophecy
, of magic, if it did nothing to help us? I was sick of saying “someday, things will be better,” but not being able to do anything!
“Your people have spent
centuries
refusing to bow to Midnight,” I told him. “You can’t convince me they’ve never threatened you
I imagined I would always hold some bitterness toward the Shantel, but I would never knowingly intrude on a private ritual.
“You are not intruding,” she replied. “You are replying. So I ask you, whom do you mourn? The music would not call to you for any other reason.”
“I’m not mourning anyone,” I said. “I wanted to talk to you about …” I trailed off. Was I really about to tell a complete stranger that I had once been involved in an assassination attempt that had nearly killed Jeshickah herself? And I wanted to try
again
?
The witch’s eyes widened slightly, and she said, “I can only hope that his rest is peaceful. I cannot go to that place to help guide him back to our land. I do not think Midnight even buries its dead.”
“I think they burn them,” I said, my mouth suddenly pasty. She was talking about the deathwitch I had been thinking about. “Can you read my mind?”
“No,” she answered, “but I can feel the deaths that you have known, especially when your mind turns to them. Two of your deaths occurred in Midnight’s cells.”
I frowned. The witch had been the only …
“Oh,”
I whispered as I realized who she meant. “Shkei. I wasn’t there when he died.”
“Your heart was,” she answered. “You mourn for him.”
“Can you tell me anything about him?” I asked. I didn’t really want to hear about my friend’s grisly demise at a trainer’s hands, but if he had to die alone, how could I shut out the details?
“He wasn’t alone,” the deathwitch said.
“He was with the trainer, I assume.” That wasn’t any better.
“No.” Staring deep within the fire, she said, “He was with someone who cared about him. Someone he cared about.”
Misha? No—she had been back with us by the time Malachi told us Shkei was dead.
“I’m sorry,” the witch said. “I know nothing more.”
That was fine. Mourning the dead was important, but I would far rather save the living, if I could. “Do you know about the spell the other deathwitch created, to poison the vampires?”
She winced. “Yes,” she said, barely a whisper. “So many deaths. I felt them all. I do not know how one of us could have crafted such a poison. It is a perversion of our power to destroy any life, even one we despise.”
So much for hoping she would try again
, I thought.
“They were all children once, you know,” the deathwitch said, again looking away from me. “Even the mighty Jeshickah was born human. The trainer known as Jaguar has a blood-sister among the Azteka who cannot help but seek the brother she once knew. The one known as Gabriel is as dark a villain as any of us can imagine, but they say he loves his hawk.”
Alasdair
. The woman we sold. “His slave, you mean.”
“I do,” she agreed. “He loves her, nonetheless. But he is broken, and does not know how to love something and let it be free at the same time.”
“Are you trying to convince me the trainers aren’t evil?” I asked incredulously. With her own prince on the brink of belonging to them, how could she make such a claim?
“They
are
evil,” the witch said flatly. “But once, they were children. I cannot prophesy the future, the way thesakkri can, but I can see and mourn what they might have been, if they had not been twisted into what they are.”
Can you see who Alasdair would have been, if we hadn’t sold her into that place? What about Misha—who would she have been, if she had never entered those stone walls?
I didn’t ask. Some questions were better left unanswered.
I TRIED TO conceal my frustration as I returned to Shane, though I realized it was probably futile. What was the point of
prophecy
, of magic, if it did nothing to help us? I was sick of saying “someday, things will be better,” but not being able to do anything!
“Your people have spent
centuries
refusing to bow to Midnight,” I told him. “You can’t convince me they’ve never threatened you
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