witches are too clever, now, to be caught with it. It is only that. I did nothing to it!”
The poor man was getting excited. And Havgan did not want him to do that. Not yet. Not until he told everything. “Of course, wyrce-jaga. Of course that is so.”
Hild relaxed slightly. The fool.
“Tell us, then. When was the last witch you caught?”
“Five months ago,” Hild said promptly. “In Maen. A child. A little boy. I think his parents were shocked. I do not think they knew. We took the boy to Afalon, to join the other captured witches. And we killed the parents, for daring to breed a witch.” Out of the corner of his eye Havgan saw Arianrod’s fist clench. Her knuckles were white. One hand went to her belly. But Havgan could not comfort her now. He did not even want to think too much, now, of what his beloved was. And of what their son would be.
“And the day after that?”
“The day after?” Hild asked.
“Yes, the day after. Did anything unusual happen? Anything at all?”
“Nothing. Just the people going in and out of the city.”
“Did you not see a man with dark hair and gray eyes? And with him a woman with black hair and eyes of green?”
“That describes many of the Kymri. How could I possibly—” The wyrce-jaga fell silent.
“Ah,” Havgan said. “You have remembered something.”
“Just a merchant. And his family. The merchant was in a hurry. Insistent that he and his be tested so they could be on their way. Most Kymri, they hold back. They hate it. But he did not. He seemed to almost be—”
“Looking forward to it.”
Arianrod leaned forward. “Did the device leave your hand at any time? Did that merchant touch you at all?”
The wyrce-jaga’s face stiffened and he did not answer.
“Wyrce-jaga,” Havgan said gently, too gently, “answer the question.”
“I will answer no question put to me by a witch!” Hild cried.
“You will answer any question I wish, Hild,” Havgan purred. “You will tell me anything.”
Sigerric left the dais, drawing his dagger and came to stand behind Hild. “You will answer the question, wyrce-jaga,” Sigerric said softly. “Never mind who asks it.”
Hild broke into a cold sweat and stubbornly held his tongue. But as Sigerric laid the edge of the blade against the wyrce-jaga’s neck, he answered. “Yes! Yes! The merchant, he knocked the device out of my hand!”
“Ah,” Arianrod said softly. “And did he pick it up for you? Bring it back to you?”
“Yes,” Hild sobbed. “Yes, he did.”
“Bring it to me,” Arianrod commanded.
Sigerric took the device from the wyrce-jaga’s shaking hands and returned to the dais, handing it to Arianrod.
She held the box in her left hand, and inserted her right finger into the opening on its side. The amethyst and topaz in the center of the top of the box glowed. But the other stones—the emerald, the opal, the sapphire, and the pearl—did not.
“The pearl should be glowing to indicate that I am Dewin,” Arianrod said to Havgan. “It would, if this were real.”
“Gwydion,” Havgan breathed.
“Yes,” Arianrod agreed. “Many years ago he was there when Arthur, the Prince of Gwynedd, was tested. And the device showed that Arthur had no gifts. But Arthur was, as we know, destined to be High King. The box should have sung for him. But nothing happened.”
“Gwydion had a false box made.”
“Yes. To show the world that Arthur had no gifts. That Arthur could not be important.”
“And kept the device. And switched it, taking the one we had that was real.”
“Yes.”
“So, this fool lost the real device. He let it be taken from him. Right beneath his nose. The only testing device we had.”
“Lord,” Hild began as the tears started to stream down his white face. “Lord, the Dreamer is the cleverest witch of all. He has fooled us all for years and years. It is not my fault if—”
“Hild,” Havgan said gently as he stood up, Gram in his hands. The naked blade
The poor man was getting excited. And Havgan did not want him to do that. Not yet. Not until he told everything. “Of course, wyrce-jaga. Of course that is so.”
Hild relaxed slightly. The fool.
“Tell us, then. When was the last witch you caught?”
“Five months ago,” Hild said promptly. “In Maen. A child. A little boy. I think his parents were shocked. I do not think they knew. We took the boy to Afalon, to join the other captured witches. And we killed the parents, for daring to breed a witch.” Out of the corner of his eye Havgan saw Arianrod’s fist clench. Her knuckles were white. One hand went to her belly. But Havgan could not comfort her now. He did not even want to think too much, now, of what his beloved was. And of what their son would be.
“And the day after that?”
“The day after?” Hild asked.
“Yes, the day after. Did anything unusual happen? Anything at all?”
“Nothing. Just the people going in and out of the city.”
“Did you not see a man with dark hair and gray eyes? And with him a woman with black hair and eyes of green?”
“That describes many of the Kymri. How could I possibly—” The wyrce-jaga fell silent.
“Ah,” Havgan said. “You have remembered something.”
“Just a merchant. And his family. The merchant was in a hurry. Insistent that he and his be tested so they could be on their way. Most Kymri, they hold back. They hate it. But he did not. He seemed to almost be—”
“Looking forward to it.”
Arianrod leaned forward. “Did the device leave your hand at any time? Did that merchant touch you at all?”
The wyrce-jaga’s face stiffened and he did not answer.
“Wyrce-jaga,” Havgan said gently, too gently, “answer the question.”
“I will answer no question put to me by a witch!” Hild cried.
“You will answer any question I wish, Hild,” Havgan purred. “You will tell me anything.”
Sigerric left the dais, drawing his dagger and came to stand behind Hild. “You will answer the question, wyrce-jaga,” Sigerric said softly. “Never mind who asks it.”
Hild broke into a cold sweat and stubbornly held his tongue. But as Sigerric laid the edge of the blade against the wyrce-jaga’s neck, he answered. “Yes! Yes! The merchant, he knocked the device out of my hand!”
“Ah,” Arianrod said softly. “And did he pick it up for you? Bring it back to you?”
“Yes,” Hild sobbed. “Yes, he did.”
“Bring it to me,” Arianrod commanded.
Sigerric took the device from the wyrce-jaga’s shaking hands and returned to the dais, handing it to Arianrod.
She held the box in her left hand, and inserted her right finger into the opening on its side. The amethyst and topaz in the center of the top of the box glowed. But the other stones—the emerald, the opal, the sapphire, and the pearl—did not.
“The pearl should be glowing to indicate that I am Dewin,” Arianrod said to Havgan. “It would, if this were real.”
“Gwydion,” Havgan breathed.
“Yes,” Arianrod agreed. “Many years ago he was there when Arthur, the Prince of Gwynedd, was tested. And the device showed that Arthur had no gifts. But Arthur was, as we know, destined to be High King. The box should have sung for him. But nothing happened.”
“Gwydion had a false box made.”
“Yes. To show the world that Arthur had no gifts. That Arthur could not be important.”
“And kept the device. And switched it, taking the one we had that was real.”
“Yes.”
“So, this fool lost the real device. He let it be taken from him. Right beneath his nose. The only testing device we had.”
“Lord,” Hild began as the tears started to stream down his white face. “Lord, the Dreamer is the cleverest witch of all. He has fooled us all for years and years. It is not my fault if—”
“Hild,” Havgan said gently as he stood up, Gram in his hands. The naked blade
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