6

The promise of extra coin and an unveiled threat secured Sialira and the horses at the inn. To further impress upon the innkeeper to keep their privacy, Miraveh let the man see the worn sheath of her sword as she gripped the hilt. It wasn't an empty threat, the times when she expected the best out of people were so far distant in the past, she had almost forgotten what it was like to trust people.

Her short, happy time back home in Donsa had not managed to dilute her distrust of people, gained from a greater number of betrayals, over the years, than she could comfortably count. The innkeeper got the message, or he would suffer for it. She no longer had the patience for those that sought harm to her or her friends. Not that Miraveh could truly count Sialira as a friend. She was still loyal to Yusuvur, after all.

The young Witch had proven beyond comforting, though she had kept her mourning as hidden as she could. She saw the danger in showing loss at the sight of the dead, cruelly displayed Witch at the Coven house. Still, once within the confines of the single room at the inn, Sialira had let loose a torrent of tears that Miraveh did not expect to dry for some time.

Miraveh couldn't take the time to offer a shoulder for the distraught Witch, she had far too much to do in a short time and she did not wish to remain in Kubsa any longer than she had to. Back out on the streets, cloak about her shoulders, she tried to gather her thoughts and her bearings. The town had changed in many ways since she had last visited. Finding places to resupply could prove difficult.

Food, it appeared, had become somewhat of a luxury. Clean water even more so. Miraveh, however, did not need proper food, the kind that she would need to watch in order to catch it before it became mouldy and useless. Likewise, she didn't need water as much. Long years struggling in the wilderness had taught her a number of ways to find water. She, and Sialira, needed dried food and a goodly amount of it.

Few places catered for such food. She didn't doubt that the Coven house, had it not become burnt and defiled, would have held such foods. Witches had a tendency to make long journeys, searching for books, or old items that could have held remnants of long-lost magic, or for new recruits, those young boys and girls touched by the magical power that, until recently, none could use.

Then she remembered a time when Kubsa had become known for prospecting. Someone had found nuggets of gold in a river a day's journey to the north. In that time of expectant fortunes, a number of people had tried to sell her father several claims. Claims that the sellers swore had nuggets the size of fists just waiting for the right person to prospect.

Her father was no fool, however, he didn't believe a one of those desperate souls trying to sell on claims that had nothing more than water and dirt in them. He did, though, visit a merchant that sold prospecting gear. Pans and sieves and pickaxes, among other things, and food. The kind of food that could last a prospector some time in an area where everyone would have little time for hunting. The merchant confirmed her father's fears. There was no gold in the river, only fools and their dreams.

Miraveh struggled to remember where that merchant had his shop. The rush for the gold may have petered out, but there were, no doubt, still others that would require such tools and if he still sold the dry food, then Miraveh would take as much as she could carry. As she tried to remember the way, noises broke into her thoughts. Angry, violent noises that turned her head, hand falling to her sword.

Off to the side, a group of people surrounded a young, dark-skinned man, his head shaven, only the tip of his chin carrying the smallest of beards. The man stood behind a broken barrel and Miraveh knew, in an instant, what the man's game was. A game that, it seemed, others had taken offence to. When one of the bigger men, on the other side of the barrel, grabbed the young man's hand, a knife blade flashing, Miraveh didn't even think.

"Hold!" She cursed herself, in silence, as her hand wrapped around the thick wrist of the man holding the knife. "You would take a man's hand for the sake of ... three coins? Three?"

The big man, twice her girth, a head taller, with a beard that hadn't seen a comb in years and breath that stank of cheap ale, tried to pull his wrist from her hand, but Miraveh held firm. Alran, Pailai bless his soul, had taught her far more than the use of the sword. She locked the man's wrist, making it look as though she barely held him. The big man's eyes widened and then narrowed.

"He's a Witch! A gods-forsaken Witch is what he is and, aye, I'd take his hand for three coins." The man still tried to pry his hand from Miraveh's, but she held firm. "Better that than what the Hunters'll do to him. I'm doing him a favour."

"A Witch, eh?" With all eyes upon her, Miraveh reached down with her free hand to turn over the three cups on the barrel. There was nothing beneath any of them. "Oh, you have a right to be angry, but he's no Witch. He's just a terrible thief. Look."

She released the big man's hand and felt glad that he didn't take the opportunity to retaliate for her interference. She didn't want to have to kill him. Taking the young man's hand, she shook his sleeve until a black stone fell from it, clattering upon the wooden top of the barrel. The innocent grimace on the man's face did nothing but cause a gasp and murmur from the crowd about him.

"Yes. It's true. I may have attempted to bend the rules of fair wagers, but I'm absolutely not a Witch, as this kind and beautiful lady says." The grimace had turned to a pitiful look of contrition and he tried to tug his hand back from the big man's own hand. "I'm simply desperate, like all you good, kind people. I thought I could make a little coin and then I could take my little girl away from this place. Her coughs grows worse each day and I fear she may not recover here. As her dearly departed mother, the gods bless her soul, passed on to the great beyond. I try, as any father would, to ..."

"So, I think a punch in the face is a fair recompense, don't you?" Miraveh had hidden her scowl at the flood of words that had escaped the young man's lips and turned back to the big man. "It's only three coins, he's so bad at this, he didn't even take them from you. Punch him, let him know he's done wrong and then tell everyone you know about him. Fair?"

"Now, wait a ..." The young man tried to protest, but a massive fist colliding with his cheek interrupted him. The young man's hands flew to his face as he spun around from the force of the blow.

"Fair." The big man nodded towards Miraveh before picking up his coins. He began to turn away and stopped, dropping one coin back on the barrel. The young man, rubbing his jaw, looked confused. "For your daughter. Get out of this place. Both of you."

That surprised Miraveh more than anything. She had thought all the compassion and goodness had left this town. For certain, he had almost cut off a man's hand for the sake of a few coins, but leaving that coin, believing the young man's story, showed Miraveh all was not completely lost in Kubsa Falls. It still didn't explain the hatred of Witches, though.

She turned away from the young man and tried, once again, to remember where to find the prospector merchant's shop. If she remembered rightly, it sat on the northern side of the now-drained pond, close to the cliff walls. With her hand still on her sword hilt, the others that had crowded around the young man drifting away, Miraveh moved towards her new destination. Until she felt a tug on her arm.

"Thank you. That ... that was kind of you. There's little kindness in Kubsa of late." The young man shuffled and side-stepped to keep pace with Miraveh. "If there's anything I can do, anything at all, you only have to ask. I'm certain my daughter will be glad her father can return to her with both hands attached."

"You don't have a daughter." Miraveh gave a little shake of the head, surprised the man still tried to keep his story going. "It's not my concern. I have other things on my mind. Go about your business and take better care when playing your game. Practice more."

Shorter than Miraveh, almost as short as Sialira, she could see his mind working. Even now trying to think of a story, or an excuse, or something to say that would not make him look like the thief he was. After several seconds, his shoulders relaxed and he gave a short laugh, grinning.

"You're right. Sorry. I'm so used to lying and after what you just did, you don't deserve to hear lies." His hand touched Miraveh's arm, giving a slight tug as he walked beside her, as though not wanting her to rush away. "But, I didn't lie about owing you. Anything you want. It's only fair, eh?"

As he said the word 'fair' he pointed to the swollen cheek from the big man's punch, that grin never wavering. Miraveh looked at the man, knew she couldn't trust a word he said, but wondered if he could, in fact, help her. Only once, though.

-+-

Miraveh only wanted him to confirm where to find the prospector merchant's shop, but the young man insisted on taking her there himself. She would have preferred him simply telling her where to go, but he practically skipped ahead of her, rolling his hand, urging her to follow. With a glance around, looking for lingering eyes, she began to follow his lead.

He seemed too eager and the fact that she had saved him from having his hand removed didn't strike her as a good enough reason. Her natural distrust told her to prepare for the worst as the man weaved through trudging crowds of people that milled around without appearing to have anywhere to go. His constant talking also annoyed her.

"You're right, of course, I am a thief." He said the last word in a choked whisper, glancing to the side. "But there's little here to steal and playing cups was a last resort. I'm usually better at it, but what with the return of magic, these Witches everywhere and the Hunters ... well, nerves got the better of me."

"You should take up another occupation." The man turned into a filth encrusted alley and Miraveh eased her sword in its sheath. If he intended robbing her, he would suffer for it. "Hunters. The other men mentioned them. Who are they?"

He didn't turn as he made careful steps through the alley and out the other side, but Miraveh saw his back stiffen at the mention of these 'Hunters', even though he had said the word himself. He stopped, looked both ways of the street, seeming to take time to remember his whereabouts, and turned to head towards the cliffside. He looked over his shoulder and then at the other people around them before getting closer to her.

"Hunters O' The Dark." The hissed whisper carried and more than one of the other people around them glanced their way. "They just appeared from nowhere almost as soon as magic came back. Witches showing off their powers, trying to take control of the town. 'For your own good', they said. Then ... then the Hunters came. Killed the Witches to a one and declared Kubsa as 'safe' from the dark arts."

Miraveh looked around. Kubsa didn't look safe. Though she had little trust for Witches, herself, they had never shown any malicious intent. Of course, their arrogance could have led this local Coven to believe only they could repair the damage Kubsa had suffered, but to kill them for that arrogance seemed far too great a cost.

These 'Hunters' sounded powerful. How they could slaughter an entire Coven of Witches, she could not imagine, but she resolved to stay away from them. If other Witches couldn't hold them off, she doubted Sialira would fare any better. Especially considering her limited powers. They had to leave this place as soon as they could and, to do that, Miraveh needed supplies.

True to his word, the young thief led her right where she needed to be. Though not as busy as she remembered it, the prospector merchant had everything she needed. Enough food to last them weeks, even if it did taste awful, and a few other things to help along their journey. A tent, for those inclement nights, a lantern and spare blankets.

By the time she left the shop, evening had started to fall and she knew she had to reach Sialira, pay the innkeeper, and then leave. They could not chance staying here longer than they had to. Sialira looked and acted too different from the locals and could only bring attention to them. Unwanted attention. Attention that could bring these 'Hunters' to their door.

To her surprise, the young thief had waited for her to leave.

"You can go now. We're even." As an afterthought, she tossed him a coin, noting that she had few of them left for herself. "Try to stay out of trouble."

"That is unlikely." He stepped in front of her before she could move away, glancing to both sides before leaning forward. "See, I'm an observant one. It helps in my work. Notice everything and thievery becomes much easier. And I took notice of two strangers riding through town. One that tried to hide such beautiful blond hair and I thought ..."

She had her sword out of its sheath and the thief pressed up against a nearby wall before he could finish speaking. His wide eyes switched between the sword pressed to his throat and up to Miraveh's face. He licked his lips and tried a wavering smile, but Miraveh put more pressure on to the sword. The tip snagged his skin, a bead of blood appearing.

"Don't think. Don't even breathe." She moved her head to catch his eyes that continued to flicker around, searching for an ally, or a way to escape, Miraveh couldn't guess. "You think to threaten me? You have absolutely no idea who I am or what I'm capable of. What were you going to do? Threaten to tell these 'Hunters' about us? Get our coin and tell them anyway? Give me a reason to let you live."

"Threaten? Why would I threaten someone that saved my life? My hand?" He lifted his hands, holding them up in surrender. "I thought that you looked like people passing through. The girl is obviously from the north, so you weren't going that way. I was hoping you were travelling south, so I can join you. Travelling alone is unsafe these days."

"Why do you want to go south?" She wasn't about to tell him where she and Sialira were going. She still wanted to head to Onsoo, but this man wanting to go south combined with her strange need to go that way herself. It seemed too much of a coincidence.

"I want to go home." The man slumped and, for perhaps the first time, Miraveh saw a genuine emotion upon his features. Sadness. "I thought I could earn my fortune up here, but I found nothing but despair. I'm tired and I wish to return to my family."

With a shove, to press him back against the wall, Miraveh released him. With a sigh of relief, the man slumped, brushing down his filthy clothing. Miraveh looked around and realised that her anger had brought her more attention than she had wanted. Her sword slipped back into its sheath and she reached down for the sack of supplies.

She couldn't trust him. Not in the slightest, but if he had knowledge of the lands to the south, he could prove useful. Everything she knew came from the books in the library of the Coven of Scales and she doubted that dry, detail-filled swathe of information that listed rulers and nations, but little of the people and the land itself.

"If you betray us, in any way, I'll kill you. Steal from us, abuse my trust, give us up to anyone, Hunters or anyone else, even the gods will fail to stop me finding you and making sure you suffer more than anything you possibly imagine." She meant it. Once, those words would have stuck in her throat. An obvious lie. Those days were gone. "What's your name?"

"Daras Shivered-As-The-Night-Fell, at your service, my lady." He made an elaborate bow, the grin returned, and then saw the confusion upon her features. "Ah, my people only give names to babes after three days and nights. If the child survives, the parents name them after some event, or emotion. Daras is my family name and you may call me that, if you wish."

"Miraveh, daughter of Ara, the goat-herd." A silence fell between them after the introduction and then Miraveh nodded, turning to head back the way they had come. She paused, looking back at Daras. "I'm absolutely serious. I will kill you. If you plan anything nefarious, it will not go well for you, Daras Shivered-As-The-Night-Fell."

He made vigorous nods as she slung the sack over her shoulder. She remembered the way back to the inn, now, and led the way. Daras fell in at her side, his short legs skipping to keep pace with her. She didn't know when she had decided to head south, but, somehow, that decision felt right. All thoughts of visiting Onsoo now drifted away and, for some reason, she didn't feel at all sad about that.

Daras continued to talk as they made their way through the town, his hand reaching out on occasion to give a little tug at her arm, as though trying to make certain she paid attention to what he said. She did, though she didn't show it. She heard all about his family's home, beyond the isthmus, of his beloved sisters and mother. How his father had died many years before, killed by a rival. But Miraveh also paid attention to everything else around them.

Something had made everyone in the town even more tense while she had bought the supplies. Something that had people lowering their eyes and scuttling to find dark corners in which to hide. And, as she turned onto the street that held the inn, she saw why.

Several warriors sat upon large horses. Each wore long, white cloaks that covered the backs of their horses and the cloaks had a simple symbol embroidered on them; a black circle with a smaller, white circle within. Miraveh didn't even need Daras to tell her who they were, instinct screamed at her to avoid these people at all costs. Hunters O' The Dark.

And one of them was a powerful Witch.