Witchsign. Den Patrick
does less these days on account of looking after you two. We both agreed a long time ago that we didn’t care for the way the Solmindre Empire does as it wishes.’
‘You’re spies,’ said Kjellrunn, frowning.
‘I’m a blacksmith, not a spy,’ said Marek. ‘And if you knew what I knew about the Empire then there’s nothing you wouldn’t do to keep your loved ones safe.’
‘But that’s the problem, isn’t it?’ Steiner glowered at his father. ‘You’ve never told us what you know about the Empire, you barely speak of our mother, you barely speak at all.’
‘Steiner!’ Marek walked around the anvil and grasped his son’s shoulders, but Steiner shoved the man back.
‘It was you!’ Steiner hissed at Verner. ‘You went to Helwick.’ He scowled at Verner in the darkness of the smithy. ‘It was you who killed the two Vigilants. You promised my father we’d be spared an Invigilation so Kjellrunn might go unchecked this year.’
‘I didn’t kill anyone,’ said Verner, though the lie fooled no one.
‘For Frejna’s sake, Steiner.’ Marek shook his head. ‘Listen to yourself!’
‘No,’ said Kjellrunn. ‘You all listen to me.’ The monotone hardness had edged into her voice again and the furnace cast her in a dire light. ‘Steiner may not be able to read but he’s not stupid. And neither am I.’ She turned to their father. ‘You sent Verner to kill the Troika because you feared I’d fail the Invigilation.’
‘Wouldn’t that just bring more Vigilants?’ said Steiner.
‘Yes, but it would bring them to Helwick, not Cinderfell, and we might be forgotten about as the Empire searched for the killer.’ Marek held out supplicating hands and shook his head. ‘I was merely trying to protect you.’
‘That brooch you gave me.’ She gestured to the glint of metal in Steiner’s hand. ‘It was meant to disguise the witchsign, your last desperate attempt to keep me safe during the Invigilation.’
‘So it’s true then?’ said Steiner. ‘You have the taint?’
‘I prefer to call it witchsign,’ replied Kjellrunn, holding his gaze.
‘You both knew? And you never told me?’ said Steiner, looking from father to sister.
‘I suspected,’ said Marek, eyes fixed on the floor. ‘I’ve always suspected. She has too much of her mother in her for it to be otherwise.’
‘Kjell?’ Steiner’s voice was a whisper, his expression stricken.
‘I’ve always known,’ said Kjellrunn. ‘I’m sorry, Steiner. I wanted to tell you but I was afraid. I don’t even know what my powers are.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Steiner slumped against the anvil. ‘Your own brother. You distrust me that much?’
‘To hear you talk of folk tales and goddesses, it’s as if you can’t bear the thought of anything but hard steel and driving rain. I was afraid, Steiner, afraid you might be so disgusted that you’d do something rash.’
‘I’d never sell you out to the Empire. Do you think so little of me?’
‘Steiner, I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do.’ Kjellrunn hugged herself and dipped her head, tousled tresses falling forward to cover her face. ‘I was too scared to trust anyone.’
‘It was you the Hierarchs detected today,’ said Steiner. ‘You were stood right behind me. The moment the brooch slipped free they scented trouble.’
‘I’m not trouble,’ replied Kjellrunn. Her chin came up and there was anger in her eyes. ‘I’ve not hurt anyone. I’ve done nothing wrong.’
‘The thing is,’ said Marek after a pause, ‘the children sent to the island aren’t executed.’
‘At least we don’t think so,’ said Verner.
‘I can’t go to the island,’ said Steiner. ‘What will happen to me once I get there?’
Marek looked to Verner and the fisherman shrugged. ‘We don’t know.’
‘We’ve been trying to get someone sympathetic to the Scorched Republics on the island for years,’ said Verner.
‘So you are spies then,’ said Steiner.
‘Steiner.’ Verner said his name so softly it had the tone of apology. ‘This is terrible, but it’s also an opportunity. You could be the person we need to infiltrate the island.’
Steiner stared at his uncle and shook his head. ‘All this time I thought I knew you, and now you’d send me off to Vladibogdan without a second thought.’
He turned on his father and stabbed out an accusing finger. ‘And you’re supposed to protect me. Aren’t parents meant to protect their children? Some father you are.’
‘I never wanted this for you,’ said Marek, but his voice broke and he looked away.
‘Steiner,’ said Kjellrunn, ‘just hear them out.’
‘Because that would suit you perfectly, wouldn’t it? Sacrifice me so you’re spared whatever happens on the island.’
‘She can’t go to the island,’ said Marek. ‘If she’s forced to use her power for the Empire …’
‘What? What is it you know?’ asked Steiner, stepping closer.
‘Using the arcane burns people up,’ said Verner. ‘It hollows them out, renders them sick and useless. It’s like fire with coal and wood.’
‘Kjell will die,’ said Marek, though it barely needed saying.
‘And you think they won’t kill me the moment I fail to …’ Steiner waved a hand, unsure what he was gesturing. They all knew he meant displaying the arcane.
‘You can’t go to the island, Kjell,’ said Marek. ‘No good will come of it.’
‘Even if we did tell the Vigilants about Kjell–’ Verner shook his head. ‘They’d likely take both of you. A Vigilant can’t be seen to make a mistake.’
‘I’m glad you three are in agreement then,’ said Steiner bitterly. ‘Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to make the most of my last few hours of freedom.’
Kristofine stood on the front step of the tavern, and once again she favoured Steiner with a smile, though the sadness in her eyes could not be missed.
‘Hoy there, Steiner.’
‘Hoy yourself. I suppose you’ve heard the news?’
She nodded and sighed.
‘Will you let me in? I fancy drinking my cares away, though I fear they’ll still be here come morning.’
‘I can’t. Father said the other patrons would leave.’
‘I don’t have witchsign,’ he grunted. ‘There’s been a mistake.’
Kristofine nodded again but she didn’t move. ‘He said you might say that. Why not stay home with your family?’
‘We had a fight.’ Steiner looked away, and for a moment he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t find the words for the way he felt about Kjellrunn, Verner and Marek.
Kristofine stepped forward and laid one hand against his arm. ’Why don’t you get comfortable in the stable?’ she said, breaking his introspection. ‘I’ll bring a jug of mead out to you?’
‘I’m not going to drink in the stable. I don’t have the witchsign and I’m not a horse.’
‘It’s drinking in the stable or no drinking at all. Now get in there and don’t let anyone see you.’