The Pillars Of The World

Fire.”
    Morphia hesitated. “You’re tired, Morag. Can’t you rest a little while before you gather the people there?”
    I’ll rest a long while before I ride into that village , Morag thought. “Let another of Death’s Servants guide them to the Shadowed Veil. I am tired, and—”
    Death called.
    Morag listened carefully, looked in the direction from which that call had come.
    “And there’s someplace else I have to be,” she finished, her voice full of regret.

    Abandoning the wounded guard, Adolfo ran toward the group of people clustered around the stable.
    Reaching them, he stared at the mound of debris-filled earth that filled the place where Baron Felston’s manor house had stood a short while ago.
    “What happened here?” he gasped.
    One of the grooms gave him a hostile look. “The earth swallowed it, then spewed up enough of itself to cover it. I guess that was the Mother’s way of saying you Inquisitors should have let the witches be.”
    Adolfo looked at them, saw the same grim expression and hard eyes in all their faces. “But she was the one who did this. The witch did this!”
    “She never did any harm until you came!” one of the female servants shouted.
    The groom nodded his head in agreement. “The ladies of Brightwood always had a lot more courtesy for the common folk than the gentry did. Even the villagers looked down on those who worked the land.” He looked in the direction of the black smoke filling the sky. “Guess they’re not going to be looking down on anyone for a long time to come.”
    “The witch—”
    The groom shook his head, then gestured toward another man. “Russell said he saw a black horse racing toward Ridgeley. A black horse with flames in his mane and tail. Anything he passed that a man had made . . . burned. Guess the Lord of Fire was letting us all know his opinion about you taking the witch.”
    They were all against him. That, too, was the witch’s fault. She should have accepted her fate, should have yielded to the need to have her spirit cleansed of its foulness. She had brought about this disdain for authority in servants who, a day ago, had been sufficiently meek.
    “Where is Baron Felston? There are things I must discuss with him.”
    The groom tipped his head toward the mound of earth. “You can dig for him then. He never came out.
    There was plenty of time before the house started to cave in, but he never came out. Neither did the baroness nor Odella.”
    Adolfo’s legs trembled. He forced himself to stand tall and show no weakness. These people were like a pack of feral dogs now. If he showed any weakness, they would attack.
    “If you want answers,” the groom said, “you could always try to ask the Small Folk. I saw a few of them heading away from the manor house just before it all caved in. I reckon they could tell you what happened to the baron and the others.”
    The Small Folk. The Fae. The witch. There was too much power here—power that should have been approached carefully instead of with haste. That had been his error. Felston had lured him here with the conviction that there was only one young witch to deal with. He should have proceeded with his usual caution instead of listening to the baron’s reassurances. And there was still the not-insignificant matter of his fee.
    “Where is Royce?” Adolfo asked.
    The groom shrugged. “He left earlier today to ride out with some of his friends. Haven’t seen him since.”

    He didn’t want to know what happened to Royce, but it was possible the young man was still alive. It was possible.
    “Saddle a horse for me. I’ll find Royce. He needs to be informed that he is the baron now.”
    No one moved.
    Then a shadow passed over them.
    The groom looked up, watched the hawk for a moment, then turned to another man. “Winn, saddle a horse for him. The sooner he’s gone, the better. No point having the Fae or the Small Folk angry with us because he’s standing here.”
    Adolfo watched the hawk slowly circle, as if it were taking a good look at the destruction. Suppressing a shiver, he said, “It’s just a hawk.”
    The groom made a harsh sound. “And that black horse that burned Ridgeley was just a horse. Get away from us, Master Inquisitor. You brought nothing but ill with you.”
    Winn came out of the stables, leading a saddled horse.
    Not the best horse Felston had, Adolfo thought as he eyed the animal. An adequate beast and nothing more. But he mounted without comment,