The Instruments of Control Read Online Free PDF Page B

witch.
    You’d burn for that, in any city under the Church’s grace. In the backwoods and stillwater towns, Renata knew, the penalty could be even worse. Never underestimate the cruelty of a panicked crowd, especially in times of a famine or drought they could blame on “black magic.”
    Given what the bandits already had planned for them, what would men like this do if they feared a witch in their midst? Renata didn’t want to think about it.
    “It’s mine,” she said.
    I can’t save you
, Renata thought,
but at least I can spare you the worst of it
.
    Hedy’s jaw dropped. Renata shot her a warning glare, then turned back to the one-eyed man. “It’s mine. I’m the witch.”
    “Boss is gonna want a word with you,” he told her, then jerked his thumb at Hedy. “This one’s useless. Take her out to the campfire and tell the boys to share nice.”
    Hedy screamed and kicked as the bandits grabbed her by the arms, dragging her out of the tent. Renata’s heart squeezed in a fist of terror.
I misjudged, I misjudged this whole thing
—
    “
Wait!
” she shouted. The bandits froze in their tracks, barely noticing Hedy’s frantic squirming. “Your boss. He wants something from me.”
    “Maybe,” he rasped. “If you’re the real thing.”
    “This girl is…she’s my apprentice. If you hurt her, I won’t help you.”
    One eyebrow, the hairs shot through with a web of tiny white scars, slowly arched upward. “You’re not in a position to argue. You’ll do what you’re told.”
    “I promise you,” Renata said, pushing past her fear and putting as much authority into her voice as she could muster, “whatever he wants, if you hurt her, you
won’t
get it. The girl stays with me. Safe and untouched. Go ahead and test me if you think I’m bluffing, but if you’re wrong,
you
can explain to your boss why I’d rather die than cooperate.”
    One-Eye stared her down, but he looked away first.
    “Fine, hell with it, take ’em both to the boss’s tent and let
him
decide what to do with ‘em. Night’s still young. Tell you one thing, witch: if you’re lying, you’re gonna wish you’d kept your mouth shut. Because then we’re
really
gonna have some fun.”

Chapter Six
    Werner and Mari hitched a ride on a merchant’s cart, headed west, and the dead girl followed them.
    That was how he thought of it, anyway, every time Mari woke up in the middle of the night. Screaming, drenched in icy sweat, throwing frenzied punches at a phantom only she could see. Every time it was the same. He’d push himself up from the wooden chair he’d been sleeping in, his back and knees groaning in protest, and hover by the bedside until it was safe to come closer.
    Sometimes he could touch her; sometimes he could only talk or try to make reassuring noises. Tonight she curled up and rested her head in his lap, her eyes fixed on the slats of the bare pine wall. Werner’s sausage fingers stroked her ragged blond hair, coming away cold and wet.
    He sat, silent, feeling Mari shake against him, and he hated that dead girl more than he’d hated the motherless fools who killed her.
    She’d been easy enough to find, a street urchin playing at witchcraft. The aftermath, that was the part he hadn’t seen coming.
The good folk of Kettle Sands were cowards
, he thought,
and the mayor and magistrate the worst of the lot. If I’d known they were going to stick a gag in the kid’s mouth and roast her alive, I’d never have claimed the bounty. Never. But what’s done is done, and spilled milk’s just like spilled blood: you can’t put it back in the container again
.
    He could live with that. He was a soldier, and he’d stopped counting the bodies he’d dropped—rightly or wrongly—a long time ago. Werner said his prayers to the Gardener every night and paid his tithe to the Church every now and then, and he figured that was the best he could do.
    Mari couldn’t live with it. She was fine during the day, mostly, but the memories