The Pillars Of The World

backstreet brat who had spent years learning to mimic his betters until he could pass for one of them. While their lack of deference infuriated him, he understood the value of letting the gentry think they were dealing with a cur only to discover a wolf had them by the throat.
    Finally, reluctantly, Hirstun pulled out another bag of gold.
    “My thanks, Baron Hirstun,” Adolfo said. “I do what I must because it’s the task I have been given, but there are expenses to performing that task.”
    “You seem to make a good living being the Witch’s Hammer,” Hirstun said, eyeing the small jewels that completely covered the large medallion Adolfo wore over a brown wool tunic and white linen shirt.
    Adolfo brushed a finger over the medallion. “I have spent the last thirty years of my life doing this work.
    Each of these stones represents a village in my homeland that I cleansed of witches—and all other signs of witchcraft.”
    “We understand each other well enough,” Hirstun said harshly. “I trust that understanding will continue.”

    “That is my hope as well,” Adolfo said, gathering up the bags of gold. “If you will excuse me, Baron, I must send a message to my assistant Inquisitors.”
    “Why?”
    Adolfo smiled slightly. “The work we do is filled with dangers. It is our custom to inform each other of where we are as well as our next destination. That way, if something should happen to one of us, the others would know where to begin the hunt for the Evil One’s servant.”
    “I see,” Hirstun said tightly.
    You begin to see , Adolfo thought as he made his bow and left the room. For now, that is enough .
    In the gray, predawn light, Morag let the dark horse pick its way across the sodden field toward the young woman sitting on a small mound of earth.
    Seeing the fear and tension in the woman’s face, she reined in a few feet away and let a gentle silence build between them.
    “You can see me,” the woman said.
    Morag’s lips curved in a hint of a smile. “I am the Gatherer. I see all the ghosts.”
    The fear and tension drained from the woman, replaced with something close to hope. “You’ve come to take me to the Summerland?”
    She said nothing for a moment, not quite sure what to make of humans who spoke of the Summerland.
    This was her first extended journey in the human world since she had become the Gatherer less than a year ago—her first journey at all to the northeastern part of Sylvalan. Until recently, none of the humans she had gathered had asked about the Summerland. “I can guide you to the Shadowed Veil. The place beyond it has been called by many names. Perhaps it is many places. Your spirit knows its home. If that is the Summerland, then that is the place you’ll find.” As she extended her hand, the sleeve of her black gown opened like a raven’s wing. “Come.”
    The woman floated over the ground, floated up behind the Gatherer. Once she was settled, she asked softly, “Do you think I’ll see my mother and grandmother in the Summerland one day?”
    As she turned the dark horse to go back the way she had come, Morag thought of the two women whose bodies had been left near the road that led to this village, the two women whose spirits she had gathered and taken to the Shadowed Veil. When the mound and field were out of sight, she finally said, “
    You’ll meet them there.”
     

 

     
     

Chapter Three

 

     
     

     
    Ari tried not to sigh out loud as she set her heavy baskets on the floor of Granny Gwynn’s shop and sincerely hoped Odella and the other young women from Ridgeley’s gentry families would conclude their business quickly.
    Seeing the movement, Odella gave Ari a sharp look before turning back to the small, wrinkled woman standing behind the wooden counter at the back of the shop. “Do you have it, Granny?”
    Granny Gwynn huffed. “Wicked girl. You wound my heart, indeed you do, to think that I’d forget to make the fancy for my pretty misses. Of course I have it. You wait there.” She disappeared behind the heavy curtain that separated the storage rooms from the front of the shop.
    Odella and the others girls began whispering and giggling.
    Trying to prevent it was as easy to ignore them as it was for them to ignore her, Ari waited. She should have heeded the strange feeling in the air this morning and stayed home. She should have worked in the garden or finished cleaning her cottage. She should have taken her sketchbook and colored