The Pillars Of The World

growing inside him trapped behind a wall of shock. It wouldn’t stay trapped for long. He could feel it pushing, looking for a weak spot in the wall from which to burst free.
    With cold deliberation, Adolfo locked the feeling of shock behind a prison of self-control. The storm of rage would have a target, but not here, not yet.
    “Where did this happen?” he asked in a voice stripped of emotion. ‘ ’How did this happen?“
    “It was my fault—” Harro said, tears filling his eyes.

    Yes, and you will pay for it.
    “—but I was his Assistant, and I obeyed his orders.” Harro hesitated. “He was young, Master Adolfo, and ... sometimes . . . too dedicated.”
    In other words, Konrad had indulged himself too much while extracting the last confession. Fool of a boy! How many times had he been told that even an animal that appears defenseless will bite if cornered?
    “What happened?” Adolfo said, keeping his voice soft and his body still.
    “There was only one witch, as we’d been told, but she was stronger than the others we had encountered while doing our great work here in Sylvaian.”
    I know the rhetoric, old man , Adolfo thought impatiently. I created it .
    “She could draw power from earth, fire, and water. So Konrad felt he had to be more persuasive with this one. But ... I know pain is the only way to cleanse witches of what they are. With this one, I could see it wasn’t breaking her down as it should have but giving her a kind of mad strength to resist. When I tried to tell Konrad what I saw in her eyes, he became angry. He ordered me to go on to Norville to inform the baron there that he would be arriving in a day or two.” Harro’s eyes pleaded. “I couldn’t disobey.‘’
    Adolfo just waited.
    “She escaped. I don’t know how, but she got away from him. He gathered men from the village and tenant farms and went after her.”
    At least Konrad had had sense enough not to hunt alone for a witch who probably no longer cared about the creed most of her kind lived by.
    “The men caught up with her in a meadow that bordered the Old Place there,” Harro continued, his voice breaking. “As they attacked her, a woman on a dark horse rode out of the trees.”
    Adolfo frowned. “Another witch?”
    Harro shook his head. “The village men said it was Death’s Mistress. They said it was the Gatherer.”
    The spot in his back that always chilled when fear raised its head turned icy cold. “One of the Fae,” he said in a barely audible voice. “Nothing had been said about Fae frequenting the Old Place.”
    “They come around now and again, but the villagers swore the Fae rarely bothered themselves with human concerns.”
    “This one did,” Adolfo snapped, his control cracking enough to let a little of the rage gush through him.
    Harro wrung his hands. “It was the Gatherer, Master Adolfo.” He closed his eyes. “She killed Konrad, and the other men ran away.”
    Young fool. The Fae were no longer as strong as most people thought, and it was easy enough to thwart one of them if you knew what gift of magic that particular one commanded. But the one who was called the Gatherer had to be avoided because her gift . . .
    “She killed him because of a witch,” Adolfo said heavily.
    Harro opened his eyes. Tears filled them. “Yes.”

    “And no doubt took his spirit to the horror that awaits men’s souls in the Evil One’s Fiery Pit.”
    Harro shook his head. “I don’t have much of the Inquisitor’s Gift, but even the villagers who have none could see ...” His voice trailed away.
    “See what?” Adolfo demanded. That icy spot in his back grew and grew.
    “Konrad’s ghost,” Harro whispered. “She left him there, in the meadow.”
    Adolfo sank back in his chair. The rage inside him pounded against his self-control.
    “The village men came back, intending to retrieve the body and give Konrad a proper mourning and burial. But when they saw the ghost, they were afraid he might be able to follow and haunt the village so they—” It took effort for Harro to swallow. “They buried him in the meadow to bind his ghost there.”‘
    Adolfo covered his face with his hands.
    “I am sorry, Master Adolfo,” Harro said hoarsely. “Konrad was a fine man and a skilled Inquisitor. He will be missed.”
    As Adolfo lowered his hands and rose from his chair, the power swelled inside him, fed by the rage smashing through his self-control. Fortunately, the means to relieve the pressure