The Pillars Of The World

get no help from them.” “But isn’t that why you came back to Tir Alainn?” Morag shook her head slowly. “I went back to tell them about the witches, so that they would understand that Ari wasn’t someone to manipulate for the Fae’s pleasure.
    And to tell them why it was so important to protect her kind.”
    “All the more reason for them to help us now.”
    “Oh, they would help us protect Ari. But they’re also interested in eliminating Neall because she wants to marry him and leave Brightwood. So we’ll get help from someone who wants to protect both of them.
    We’ll go to Ahern.”
    Something shivered through the air. Adolfo set his wineglass on the table, walked over to the window, and pulled the curtain aside. Nothing looked different, but something was different.

    Maybe it was nothing. Even locked in the cellar, the witch made this whole place stink of magic. It wouldn’t feel right again until she was dead.
    He turned to retrieve his wine, then stopped.
    It was magic he was sensing, but there was too much of it to be coming from just her .
    He opened the drawing room. The guard standing on duty immediately straightened.
    “Get the horses saddled,” Adolfo said. “Then wait for further orders.” He closed the door, retrieved his wine, and drained the glass.
    His hand shook. It hadn’t done that in a long, long time. He always feared the witches, never felt easy until they—and their magic—died. That fear was his mother’s legacy. Keeping them alive long enough to break them down was a test of his own strength.
    This one was hardly more than a girl—and still his hands shook. Because of the Fae. Before now, he’d been able to dismiss them. They came and went, paying little attention to the human world beyond their immediate pleasures, and he’d never had to be concerned about them becoming adversaries. But there was the Gatherer to consider. She was already aware of the Inquisitors, already seemed to be taking an interest in the witches in this land. She could not be dismissed. Neither could the Fae Lord who had hidden his true nature from the people of this village for so many years.
    There hadn’t been time to get the feel of this witch, to know which branches of the Mother were her strength. No matter. They would take her somewhere on the estate far enough away that the ladies of the house wouldn’t be distressed. And they would hang her from a tree and open up her belly. A crude method, but effective.
    “I shall not suffer a witch to live,” he whispered. He would make sure nothing and no one spared this one.
    He walked out of the room and gave his orders.
    The dark horse slid to a stop, his hooves bare inches from Ahern’s boots.
    “Where’s Ari?” Morag demanded.
    Ahern crossed his arms and lifted his chin. “Gone by now. She and Neall. The Black Coats came here today. When she came a little later to bring the horses that had come with you, I told her she and the boy had to go.”
    “Neall went with her?”
    Ahern shook his head, his expression turning grim. “She ran back to make her peace with Brightwood.
    He followed as soon as he got the horses saddled. Couldn’t have been more than a quarter hour behind her, half at the most.”
    Morag closed her eyes. “He didn’t reach her in time. The Black Coats must have her. If Neall isn’t careful, they’ll have him too.”
    “How can you be so sure?” Ahern demanded.

    Morag opened her eyes. “Death is whispering. Death is nearby.”
    Ahern lowered his arms, clenched his fists. “They’ll have taken her to Baron Felston’s estate. That’s the only place the Black Coats could go to do ... what you said they do.”
    “How do I get there?”
    “I’ll take you.” Ahern turned, summoned one of the men who had been lingering nearby. “Glenn. You remember what I told you? All of it?” He waited for the man to nod. “No matter what happens today, you do what I told you.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    A few moments later, Morag and Morphia followed a gray stallion over the fields, racing toward Baron Felston’s estate.
    Neall rode close enough to the estate to see the house and stables. Too much activity. Why were so many horses being saddled?
    “Best to leave us here,” the small man said. “We’ll make our own way to the house.” He paused. “Do you know where they’d likely be keeping the witch?”
    “There’s a small room in the cellar. A cold, dark room.” He knew it well. He’d spent enough time there