Read Online Of Sorrow and Such by Angela Slatter - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Angela Slatter
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most dangerous. I choose to ignore him, direct my remarks to the first man; not that I think he’ll be any more reasonable, but it will annoy the fearful one.
“I only know I was set upon after I left my home to return to my adopted daughter at the gaol. We’d spoken earlier and I wanted to take her something warm and clean—those cells are cold even in full summer.”
“Surely she could shift herself a fur coat?” sneers angry-frightened.
I don’t even deign to look at him. “I’ve no idea who did this to me. I’ve done no wrong.” I will lie and lie and lie for as long as I can. “Where is Gilly? Have you hurt her? I wish to speak with her. And where is Fenric? Where is my dog?”
“The beast is safe, but the girl . . . well, perhaps she is safe too. She’s gone, Mistress Gideon, but you already know that. You let her out.”
I shake my head. “No, Haddon Maundy took me to see her. She asked me to get her some warm clothing. When I went back upstairs Maundy had fallen asleep.” They look uneasy at that; it sounds like the truth. “If I’d let her out I’d have done it then and we’d be far from here, but she was still in the cells when I left. Ask Flora Brautigan what happened.”
“Mistress Brautigan has met her end,” intones a voice from behind me. I don’t recognise it, but imagine who it is. I’d not thought anyone would find her so soon, but if they came with dogs . . .
“Her poor husband. He did not deserve such disloyalty from her. Is he coping? And his sister, how is she?”
“Enough of this! This is not a social gathering.” The aggressive churchman pushes his fellow aside and waves a piece of yellowed paper at me. I recognise one of the flyers Charity Alhgren showed me, with Selke’s lovely face sketched so poorly on it. “This woman is the principal reason for our visit here. Where is she?”
“I don’t know her—how would I know where she is?”
“She was seen in your house not long ago. You harboured her.”
“It’s a lie, and a stupid one at that.”
“Beau Markham would have it otherwise.”
Little shit, I should have buried him.
“Beau Markham will say anything to hurt me, for I warned him away from my daughter.”
“The daughter who was in the company of a known shifter-witch.”
“So you claim, but I’ve seen no evidence of it. She was never in the company of Flora Brautigan before last night.”
“Ina Brautigan would have it otherwise,” says the voice from behind me. I swallow hard.
Ina.
Balthazar Cotton moves into my line of sight. He’s got none of his brother’s beauty, none of the charm. He’s a blunt creature, as subtle as a hammer blow, and as unpleasant.
“Miss Brautigan says Flora and Gilly have consorted for some months, though she knew not for what purpose.” He grins and it’s an ugly thing. He holds up Wynne’s grimoire. “But perhaps you know more about it than we do and could be encouraged to share your knowledge?”
Chapter Fourteen
Now I’ve a swollen lip to go with my injured eye. Whenever I try to open the lid there’s a slight cracking of the crust, weak pinpricks of light show, but it hurts too much to continue. My ears still ring with the blows administered by Balthazar Cotton, who’s offered his services as willing enforcer for the men in purple. They’ll not get their hands dirty, but they’re more than happy to watch while the merchant goes to work, piety disguising his pleasure in causing pain; strangely, he is careful not to break anything—perhaps concerned that it might hasten my demise and curtail his enjoyment. Bless their black little hearts, they’ve told him
no rape.
Not because of any great moral stand, but because they tremble at the thought of any kind of intercourse, shudder at the idea that any sort of contact with a witch might turn their man’s head and heart. The clerics don’t care about the torment inflicted, they think anything done in the service of their God is holy, but
“I only know I was set upon after I left my home to return to my adopted daughter at the gaol. We’d spoken earlier and I wanted to take her something warm and clean—those cells are cold even in full summer.”
“Surely she could shift herself a fur coat?” sneers angry-frightened.
I don’t even deign to look at him. “I’ve no idea who did this to me. I’ve done no wrong.” I will lie and lie and lie for as long as I can. “Where is Gilly? Have you hurt her? I wish to speak with her. And where is Fenric? Where is my dog?”
“The beast is safe, but the girl . . . well, perhaps she is safe too. She’s gone, Mistress Gideon, but you already know that. You let her out.”
I shake my head. “No, Haddon Maundy took me to see her. She asked me to get her some warm clothing. When I went back upstairs Maundy had fallen asleep.” They look uneasy at that; it sounds like the truth. “If I’d let her out I’d have done it then and we’d be far from here, but she was still in the cells when I left. Ask Flora Brautigan what happened.”
“Mistress Brautigan has met her end,” intones a voice from behind me. I don’t recognise it, but imagine who it is. I’d not thought anyone would find her so soon, but if they came with dogs . . .
“Her poor husband. He did not deserve such disloyalty from her. Is he coping? And his sister, how is she?”
“Enough of this! This is not a social gathering.” The aggressive churchman pushes his fellow aside and waves a piece of yellowed paper at me. I recognise one of the flyers Charity Alhgren showed me, with Selke’s lovely face sketched so poorly on it. “This woman is the principal reason for our visit here. Where is she?”
“I don’t know her—how would I know where she is?”
“She was seen in your house not long ago. You harboured her.”
“It’s a lie, and a stupid one at that.”
“Beau Markham would have it otherwise.”
Little shit, I should have buried him.
“Beau Markham will say anything to hurt me, for I warned him away from my daughter.”
“The daughter who was in the company of a known shifter-witch.”
“So you claim, but I’ve seen no evidence of it. She was never in the company of Flora Brautigan before last night.”
“Ina Brautigan would have it otherwise,” says the voice from behind me. I swallow hard.
Ina.
Balthazar Cotton moves into my line of sight. He’s got none of his brother’s beauty, none of the charm. He’s a blunt creature, as subtle as a hammer blow, and as unpleasant.
“Miss Brautigan says Flora and Gilly have consorted for some months, though she knew not for what purpose.” He grins and it’s an ugly thing. He holds up Wynne’s grimoire. “But perhaps you know more about it than we do and could be encouraged to share your knowledge?”
Chapter Fourteen
Now I’ve a swollen lip to go with my injured eye. Whenever I try to open the lid there’s a slight cracking of the crust, weak pinpricks of light show, but it hurts too much to continue. My ears still ring with the blows administered by Balthazar Cotton, who’s offered his services as willing enforcer for the men in purple. They’ll not get their hands dirty, but they’re more than happy to watch while the merchant goes to work, piety disguising his pleasure in causing pain; strangely, he is careful not to break anything—perhaps concerned that it might hasten my demise and curtail his enjoyment. Bless their black little hearts, they’ve told him
no rape.
Not because of any great moral stand, but because they tremble at the thought of any kind of intercourse, shudder at the idea that any sort of contact with a witch might turn their man’s head and heart. The clerics don’t care about the torment inflicted, they think anything done in the service of their God is holy, but
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