Shadows and Light

and the Fae and all the rest of them deal with that .
    Ubel scanned the main room of the posting station, certain that his expression conveyed nothing more than anxious concern, yet uneasy about the amount of silent attention every person entering the room was receiving. If he didn’t find—
    There. That old woman sitting at a table by herself would suit his plans.
    He swiftly crossed the room, shifting his expression to one of relief. Stepping up to the table, he rested one hand on the back of the chair opposite the one the old woman sat in. Seeing the proprietor approaching the table, he changed his expression from relief to confusion, and put all the strength of his Inquisitor’s Gift of persuasion behind his words as he said, “Didn’t you order a bowl of stew for me?”
    “And why would I order a bowl of stew for you?” the old woman said sharply. “I don’t know—” She looked up, and as her eyes met his, his gift of persuasion ensnared her.
    The proprietor was now standing near the table close enough to hear everything that was said.
    Ubel filled his voice with a touch of sadness and worry.
    “It’s me, Grandmother. It’s Ian. Your grandson. We arranged to meet here so that I could escort you on the rest of your journey to visit relatives. I asked you to order a bowl of stew for me while I took care of the horse I’d hired. Don’t you remember?”
    “I—” The old woman studied his face, working hard to remember. “Ian? I don’t... remember. You’re ...
    traveling with me?”
    Ubel smiled, looking weary but relieved. “Yes, Grandmother.”
    The proprietor looked at both of them in turn, then said to Ubel, “The coaches will be leaving shortly, but there’s time for a bowl of stew and tankard of ale.”
    “Half a tankard, if you please,” Ubel said. He pulled out the chair and sat down, setting his saddlebags beside the chair.
    The old woman was strong-willed and independent. So much so that every time he gave a little attention to his meal, she shook off enough of the persuasion that all he could do was reinforce the thought that he was her grandson and was traveling with her instead of planting additional thoughts about the journey.

    In the end, her own strength worked to his advantage. By the time he led her to the counter where the tickets were sold, she sounded confused and querulous, which made it easier to exchange the ticket she’
    d already purchased for a coach headed farther inland for two tickets to the seaport.
    As he settled her into the coach, he realized he’d get little rest until they were actually on the ship. Once they were at sea, heading for Wellingsford, what she said would make little difference. But it angered him to have a female trying to assert her own opinions instead of being quiet and obedient, so he decided he would spend the time at sea using his gift of persuasion as a hammer against her mind until she was no longer certain of anything.
    He settled back on his part of the seat, pleased that he’d found a way to amuse himself on the journey.

Chapter Nineteen
    Struggling to push away memories of the previous night, Ashk stared at the sunlit meadow. It was one of her favorite places, the place where her grandfather had taught her, trained her, played with her. She wanted to walk in the sunlight, feel the heat of it seep through her skin all the way to her cold bones. She wanted to follow the trail that led to the small pool where she had met Padrick on a Summer Moon night years ago. She wanted to soak in that water until she felt clean again—and she wondered if she ever would feel clean again. If she went there, would the blood and the pain seep into the stones around the pool? Would it settle on the bottom like some kind of emotional slime?
    Have you nothing to say about what I’ve done here, Gatherer?
    I’ve seen worse things done, and they were done by an Inquisitor ‘s hand.
    Last night, she had used their own tools against them— not with any skill, since she could only guess at the purpose of many of those pieces of metal, but she had used them while the Fae males who had brought the Black Coats to that thorny, barren place—and the Fae who had joined them— watched in silence and listened to the Black Coats spew out answers to every question she asked, listened to them beg and plead for the next caress of pain to stop.
    She wondered how many witches had begged and pleaded for the suffering to end—and how many times the Black Coats