Void's Tale Christopher Nuttall (poetry books to read .txt) 📖

The group laughed, save for the disguised girl.  I felt a flicker of sympathy.

“Or she didn’t get laid,” another said.  He belched, loudly.  “Maybe she just needed a damn good fucking.”

I hid my disgust behind an expressionless mask.  He’d never dare say that in front of a real sorceress.  My grandmother would have ripped him to shreds, in a manner that would have made the Red Murderer blanch.  My female cousins would have done worse.  Probably.  I dreaded to think what a Witch of Laughter would have done ...

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” I said, curtly.  I pushed a little magic into my words, to make sure that part of the story was passed on.  “I’m sure she’ll be better once we’re back on the road.”

I allowed my smile to grow wider as I told a handful of other anecdotes, then stood and wobbled towards the door.  Behind me, I heard a buzz of conversation.  My audience was all fired up, ready to spread the story far and wide.  I smirked, stepped onto the darkened streets and headed to the next tavern, twisting the glamour again before walking inside and repeating the performance.  The story would definitely be over the city by midnight.

And just to be sure, I’ll keep spreading a few different stories, I thought.  I’d spent hours coming up with rumours, each just believable enough to spread.  And make sure they are put in the right ears.

I kept moving, changing my glamour time and time again.  I hailed a guard and tried to complain about a travelling sorceress, only to be told to get out of his sight.  The poor man would look the other way, rather than risk attracting a sorceress’s attention, but he’d report the incident to his superiors.  I smiled as I walked away, remembering the absurd story about the previous night’s events.  The guardsman might not even know they weren’t true.  If he hadn’t been there ...

It was pointless to wonder.  I just kept going, dropping a rumour here and a rumour there, constantly changing my appearance so no one realised I was the person starting the same rumours.  I spoke to merchants heading home from their shops, to prostitutes waiting for clients ... even to a pair of footpads, whom I convinced to spread rumours rather than anything more violent.  The rumour seemed to rush past me.  I was amused to discover, as I entered another tavern, that people were already expanding on the story.  Juliana - apparently - was secretly in control of the entire convoy, using magic to keep everyone in line.  I doubted my mystery opponent would believe it, but - when he heard - he’d certainly regard her as a possible victim.  And one who had to be snatched tonight.

If this doesn’t work, I’ll have to think of something else, I told myself.  It should work, but I really would have preferred more time.  I could have found someone willing and able to serve as bait ... I could have served as bait myself, with a little effort.  I might have to move into a shop and become as unpopular as possible.

I passed through the first tavern again - the story had mutated into Juliana raiding Mistress Layla’s house, then turning the guardsmen into women and dispatching them to an uncertain fate - and then made my way back to the marketplace.  The wards were weaker, now that half the magicians in the convoy had left.  There were only a handful left, including Juliana.  They’d done what they could, but the wards were covering too wide an area to be completely effective.  I doubted they’d stand up for long, not if the mystery kidnapper came calling.  They weren’t even capable of setting off an alarm, let alone stunning him.  I could have solved that problem, with a little effort, but I didn’t want to deter him.  My lips quirked as I fiddled with the wards, setting up covert tripwires and alarms without making the wards look any stronger.  The rumours had grown and grown in the telling, making Juliana sound like the reincarnation of Pendle or the enigmatic Dark Lady herself.  I might have overdone it.  I certainly didn’t want to scare the kidnapper off!

Shaking my head, I finished work on the wards and slipped up to the caravan.  Juliana hadn’t changed her personal wards, as far as I could tell. It didn’t matter.  I sat on the ground, attuned myself to the wards and settled down to wait.  Patience was a virtue, my grandfather had told me time and time again.  It had never really been one of mine.  Ours, really.  My brothers might still be alive if we hadn’t been so impatient to become great before our time.  I guess we’d inherited more from our father than just a name, a bloodline, and power.

He has to come tonight, I told myself.  I’d made sure, time and time again, to tell everyone Juliana was leaving tomorrow.  There won’t be a second chance.

The stone felt cold beneath me as I waited, each second ticking by slowly.  It was hard to believe that only a few moments had passed since I’d begun my vigil.  I was wrapped in shadow, concealed within the wards.  There should be no way for an intruder to sense my presence.  And yet ... the town beyond the wards was as cold and silent as the grave.  I couldn’t hear anything, not even the hooting of owls or mice and rats searching for scraps in the darkness. If there was anyone else on the streets, they weren’t coming near the marketplace.  I hoped that was a good sign.  I didn’t want the kidnapper scared away by accident.

She’s a great prize, I told myself.  It was true, of both the real Juliana and the one I’d invented out of whole cloth.  And no one would bother to look