Hexed

sure. I have to be sure. Please, ask me no more questions.”
    “Then we will let it rest. I’ll bring you dinner and a drink. I assume you are headed toward the portal?”
    “First thing come morning.” As I fumbled for my purse, to pay her fee, she waved away the coin.
    “You are a stranger in need. Rest now, and I will bring food.”
    And she did. I ate—stew and mince pie and fresh bread—and when I was done, I drained the pint dry. She must have put healing herbs in the beer because by the time I finished, I was falling asleep, and for the first time in several weeks, I slept without pain. Slept without dreams.
     
    I GAZED INTO Jonah’s eyes and gave him a slow smile. Should I say anything? Was I the same sprite who’d come down the mountain, still wanting to die? Would he and his wife even remember me?
    “You and your wife paid me a great service six hundred years ago,” I said quietly. “Your wife bathed my wounds, bandaged them, fed me, and helped me to sleep without pain for the first time in a long while. I wish you’d let me give you something—repay you for the kindness you showed me.”
    “My wife?” Jonah blinked. “Althea’s been dead for nigh on two hundred years.” He let out a long sigh and shook his head. “You look familiar, but anymore, I’m afraid I don’t remember much that happened long ago. Thank you, though, for reminding me of what a gentle creature my wife was. The animals came to her for help when they were hurt. Came right up to eat out of her hands. She treated them and kept them in the stables until they were ready to head back into the wild again.” He brushed his hand across his eyes. “I do miss her.”
    “What happened?” I asked softly.
    “Werewolf got her. Tore her to shreds. I found her remains.” He shuddered.
    “I’m so sorry.” I felt bad for bringing up the subject.
    Camille noticed and jumped in. “This is incredible stew. What meat is it, might I ask?”
    Jonah shook his head, inhaling deeply. “Oxen—the animal of choice around here. We add root vegetables: carrots and potatoes and turnips. Rich gravy and onions.”
    Howl set down his spoon. “We are traveling to the ice fields. You know the shadow that lurks on the Skirts of Hel?”
    “Yes . . . Don’t tell me you are headed up to challenge it. We’ve lost so many to that black shade of Hel. But then—you are an Elemental Lord,” Jonah hastened to say.
    “I am. And with me I have a dragon, a witch, an incubus, and your friend—the Talon-haltija. It is her fight, truly, but we come to give aid.” Howl frowned. “Have you heard any reports lately of the shadow creature?”
    Jonah was staring at me in earnest now. “Talon-haltija?” Blinking rapidly, he scooted his chair back. “There were reports, so many hundreds of years ago, of a powerful priestess, a sprite, who misused her powers, and the result . . . was the creation of the shadow creature. Are you she? Were you the Ar’jant d’tel who was disgraced and turned out of Undutar’s temple?”
    My cheeks flamed. “I do not know if I am responsible for the shadow—nothing could ever be proven and I have never been able to remember exactly what happened. But yes, I am Iris, and I was Ar’jant d’tel—Chosen of the Gods, the pariah of the temple.”
    I bit my lip, praying he wasn’t regretting helping me all those years ago. “I come in search of the truth. To clear my name or to accept my punishment, whatever the case may be.”
    Smoky leaned across the table. “We need to sleep. Hold your questions till later, dwarf. Iris is an honored friend of mine, and I am dragon. Do not entertain thoughts I would not cotton to. Understand?”
    Jonah’s eyes grew wide. “Not a problem, Lord Iampaatar. I know who you are.” He turned to Howl. “As far as your question, yes, the shadow has been active lately—in fact, he claimed a village girl from the Edanuwit people recently. They found her, her life force drained, her body mangled.”
    “How do they know it was the shadow?”
    “It leaves a magical residue. If you go looking for it, you’ll surely find it.” And then Jonah bid us good evening and went back to the bar.
    I finished my meal but felt terribly self-conscious. It was clear that our conversation had been overheard. The rest of the patrons skirted around us, which was probably just as well, but it made me feel like I had a big red bull’s-eye painted on my back, or a scarlet A on my forehead.
    As we headed