Trial by Fire (22 page)

Lily’s smile was forced. Did he
know
that she’d wanted to eat him alive? That she still wanted to? She cast around for something other than eating Rowan to talk about, and a thought occurred to her. “Wait. You’ve been calling me witch all morning.”

“After what you did last night, you’ve definitely earned the title. Healing your ankle was medicinal magic. That’s easy stuff—any crucible, even mechanics, can do it. But what we did last night was warrior magic. The highest level there is, save one. A simple crucible can’t possesses a body like that and fill it with the Gift.” Rowan started walking again. “You’re a witch. And you did it with no training and no willstone of your own.”

Lily thought she heard him whisper the word “scary” to himself, and rushed to catch up with him.

“That’s utterly ridiculous,” sputtered Councilman Roberts.

Gideon shifted in his seat and swallowed the retort that caught in his throat. Councilman Roberts was a dried-out old fool as far as Gideon was concerned, but he had been serving on the Council for more years than anyone—even more than Gideon’s father, Thomas Danforth. If Gideon and his father were going to get the rest of the Council to hear them, they’d need his support.

“I’m not quite sure we understand what you’re saying,” interjected Councilman Wake. He leaned into the round table and crossed his hands neatly in front of him. Wake was a younger man, barely thirty, but he had a reputation for being a shrewd tactician, which was why Gideon and his father had included Wake in this small and secret gathering. “Are you trying to say that the Salem Witch has created a copy of herself out of thin air?” Wake asked.

“Not created,” Gideon interrupted, shaking his head. “We think she found another version of herself in another universe and brought that other self here.”

A stupefied silence followed.

“What my son means is that there is the
possibility
that something impossible happened,” Thomas Danforth said. He laughed nervously. “After all, you can’t account for Lillian being in two places at once in any other way besides the impossible.”

“Rumors,” Roberts spat. “A bunch of drubs in the dungeons claimed they saw another Lillian gadding about the woods with Rowan Fall, when we could all attest that the Witch was in the Citadel. That doesn’t make it true.”

Thomas Danforth sat back in his chair, deflated. Gideon had always known that his father was not a strong man and that he often caved to the wishes of the other men on the Council. Danforth was well liked among them for exactly that reason. Knowing his father wasn’t going to find the strength to convince the Councilmen, Gideon glanced up and looked into the corner of the room. Carrick stood with his back to the wall, huddled under a dark cloak, so that he nearly disappeared inside his own glowering shadow.

“Tell them what you told me about the shamans of your people,” Gideon ordered.

“Now he’s talking about shamans—the craziest of all the drubs,” Roberts muttered incredulously to Wake, throwing up his hands. Roberts leaned imploringly across the table toward the final member of that evening’s covert cabal, Councilman Bainbridge, who had until this point remained silent. “Don’t tell me
you
believe any of this nonsense, Bainbridge?”

Bainbridge’s face was stony. He wasn’t nearly as old as Roberts, but he was just as respected. He had a lot of innovative ideas, and had been elected by the citizenry in his district by a huge majority. He also had more reason than most to hate the near totalitarian rule of the Lady of Salem’s Coven, as Lillian had squashed several of his pet projects for being “too scientific”.

“I’m not saying I believe it or don’t believe it,” Bainbridge said equitably. “But I am wondering why Lillian’s head mechanic would call this meeting to begin with.”

Gideon knew what Bainbridge’s problem was. Why would someone whose power hinged on the Witch want to meet with three men who had so long opposed the overreaching power of the Witch and her Coven? Gideon could sense Bainbridge’s caution. Gideon could be working for Lillian, trying to root out those who opposed her. But these men of the Council could never understand Gideon’s frustration. They had no magic. They had no idea what it was to be a mechanic who was claimed by a witch—no—
chained
to a witch—who wouldn’t use him.

“Because I’ve worked with witches long enough to understand why the Council hates them.” Gideon heard the edge of spite in his voice, and made no attempt to rein it in. “The Council is supposed to be equal in power to the Coven, and the two bodies of government are supposed to balance each other so no one group has too much power. But we know that’s rubbish. If the Coven doesn’t get what it wants all it has to do is put an embargo on electricity, medicine, meat, clean water—or any one of the dozens of things that witches supply the citizenry—until the people who elected
you
to stand up for
them
against the total control of the nonelected Coven demand that you give in to their wishes. How the hell is that democracy?”

“So all of this is for democracy’s sake?” Bainbridge asked with one raised eyebrow. Yet despite his disdain, Gideon could tell he was intrigued.

“The witch system has to go,” Gideon said finally, and watched the nervous glances dart around the table.

“Or rather, there needs to at least be an alternative to all the things the Covens supply the people, or the Council will never have any real power,” Danforth interjected quickly.

Roberts was already shaking his head. “And where are we supposed to get these things? The people need energy and food and medicine—how are we supposed to supply that for them? Not even witches can pull something out of nothing.”

“Really?” Gideon asked pleasantly. “Carrick. Would you please tell the distinguished gentleman of the Council about the shamans of your people?” he repeated pointedly.

Carrick’s deep voice rose up out of the darkness around him, like a bit of shadow had been turned into sound. “The shamans say that there are an infinite number of worlds, all of them different, and that their spirits can travel to them and come back.”

“And are these other worlds full of resources like energy and food and medicine?” Gideon asked.

“All that and more,” Carrick promised quietly. “The shamans say that everything you could possibly imagine is real in some world somewhere.”

“Nonsense,” Roberts scoffed. “That spirit walking stuff is a tall tale used to comfort poor Outlander children when they realize their lot in life.”

“But what if it’s true?” Danforth proposed quietly. “An infinite number of worlds with an infinite number of resources…” He trailed off dramatically, and for the first time, Gideon understood why his father was head of the Council. He had a knack for using greed to get everyone in line with his agenda.

“If Lillian has found a way to bring a person from one world into another, is it so hard to imagine that other things could be brought as well—the very things we lack, for instance?” Gideon added smoothly, after a suitable pause.

Bainbridge looked Gideon in the eye. “We’d need proof that other worlds exist before we make any move against Lillian.”

“It’s easy enough,” Carrick suggested quietly. “Find Rowan Fall, and you’ll find the other Lillian. Ask her where she came from.”

Bainbridge grew quiet, internalizing all the ramifications. He shook his head suddenly. “No. Fall still has all of the Witch’s favor and protection. She was always especially fond of him.”

“And he profited by it,” Roberts said lewdly. “I hear he owns the whole building he lives in. Great neighborhood, too. Could charge whatever he wants for rent in that area and make a fortune.”

Gideon stifled another wave of frustration. The Council always was jealous of the Coven’s wealth, and they begrudged how well the Coven paid anyone who worked for them—from the lowliest farmers who maintained the greentowers all the way up to the mechanics who were practically showered with riches.

“Does he still draw a salary from the Coven?” Wake asked, like the beancounter he was.

“No,” Gideon answered sharply, hoping to end this line of conversation. “I’m Lillian’s head mechanic now. What does it matter how well Lillian paid him?”

Roberts smirked at Gideon. “Proves how much the Witch cared for Fall, doesn’t it? Their fondness for each other is practically anecdotal. The two of them may have had a tussle over that business with his father, but magical folk are queerly tied to each other with all of the claiming nonsense. Much more than regular flesh and blood and common sense would deem suitable, in my opinion. All of this hullaballoo could be that this ‘other Lillian’ is simply the Salem Witch visiting her favorite.”

“In the Woven Woods?” Gideon interjected incredulously. “Not very likely.”

“But far more likely than what you’re suggesting,” Bainbridge countered. “No, you can’t openly challenge Rowan Fall without Lillian knowing. And even if he is no longer drawing a salary, she’s made it clear that Rowan Fall is still to be afforded all the privileges of a head mechanic. Making a move against Fall is far too risky. You need to find your proof elsewhere.”

“Yes,” Wake agreed, his pensive tone matching Bainbridge’s, “we’d need proof to convince the whole Council and a plan for how to access these other worlds, before we’d sanction you making any move against the Witch or Rowan Fall.”

Even still, they were terrified of challenging Rowan. He was so legendary they wouldn’t oppose him—even though Rowan no longer had the strength of the Salem Witch in him.
Gideon
was her head mechanic now, but they all seemed to overlook that fact. Either that or they knew that Lillian had never once given him the Gift. It galled Gideon. A disdainful breath escaped him, and Roberts was quick to chastise him for it.

“You’re not the only one who’d swing if this cockamamie idea of yours turns out to be nothing but a middle-of-the-woods tryst between two reunited lovers,” Roberts said hotly. “The Witch is awful fond of hanging people who oppose her these days, and you’ll get no support unless you have enough evidence to get the
entire
Council on our side. I reckon not even she can hang half the government. In the meantime, I suggest you watch your thoughts carefully, young Danforth.” Roberts gestured to Gideon’s willstone, dangling at his throat. “If Lillian gets one whiff that you’re disloyal, she’ll root this meeting out of your memories in a heartbeat. And then, well—we’ll all meet again at the gallows.”

chapter 8

Lily and Rowan reached the edge of town at dusk. From a distance, Lily could see the towers of greenery soaring up into the air between the tall buildings, but as they approached, the colossal wall encircling Salem blotted out the city behind it. Lily tried to locate the end of the wall, but it stretched for miles in either direction.

“I’m going to have to smuggle you in. I hope the tunnel that leads to the Swallows is still up and running,” Rowan mumbled, more to himself than to Lily.

“Tunnel?” Lily interjected nervously. She didn’t like small, dark places, especially if they were underground. Lily didn’t even like the thought of going down into her basement at home, let alone through a strange tunnel. She also didn’t like the idea of going to any part of town named the Swallows, but that was the least of her worries. “My hair is so different, and it’s getting dark,” she argued. “Maybe no one will recognize me?”

Rowan shook his head. “You don’t have a willstone, Lily.”

“Yeah. And?” Lily asked desperately. She really didn’t want to go underground.

“So you won’t get in.” Rowan let out a tense breath and dove in. “There’s a string of numbers stored in everyone’s willstone. It’s your citizenship number. A related but much simpler kind of crystal—it’s called a lattice—can locate and read this number and—” Rowan realized he was rambling and dragged a frustrated hand through his hair. “Basically, our willstones are our identification. Guards check everyone’s willstone with a lattice for their citizenship number. You can’t get through any of the Salem gates after dusk without one. On top of that, it’s just
weird
to see someone over the age of seven without a willstone. You’d get stopped for that no matter who you look like.”

“Okay,” Lily said, backing off in the face of Rowan’s obvious disquiet even if the thought of going underground still made her shaky. “Forget I said that. You lead, I’ll follow.”

“Oh, so you
can
be reasonable?” he quipped. “Every day, a new surprise.”

“Quiet, you.” Lily giggled as he took her hand and pulled her tight to his side. “Before I change my mind and throw a hissy fit.”

The light mood didn’t last long. Rowan’s face darkened again as he brought Lily along the edge of the wall. Outside one of the huge gates was a shantytown of traders who had formed a rustic-looking fairground. The dark-haired, dark-eyed people in the caravan were packing in their wares for the night, pulling down the shutters of the armored carriages that doubled as merchant booths. Rowan led Lily into the maze of stalls, keeping her close.

“Don’t look up at anyone,” he whispered in her ear. Lily tilted her head down but she could still feel the Outlanders watching them. Rowan hurried her past the few who stopped to stare.

“Do they recognize me?” she asked anxiously.

“No. They’re curious to see who’s coming in from the Woven Woods alone, on foot, and uninjured,” he answered. “It doesn’t happen often.”

Lily nodded her understanding and angled herself behind him, tucking as close as she could to the curve of Rowan’s shoulder. She glanced up to the top of the city wall and could see guards moving around up there, the distance shrinking them to the size of mice.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “I thought Lillian was hunting the Outlanders.”

“Just those pledged to Alaric. His tribe harbors scientists and fights for Outlander rights, but there are plenty of tribes that abide by Coven law.” Rowan’s mouth slid into a half smile. “Or so they say.”

As they neared the center of the fairground, the muddy dirt paths turned to wooden walkways and the armored carriages grew larger and seemed more entrenched in their positions. Children ran around, playing chasing games. It was a neighborhood of sorts, protected by the carriages along the perimeter and by the guards on the wall a hundred feet above them. Lily could smell food cooking. She heard Rowan’s stomach growl and thought for a moment that she could feel the twist of hunger inside of him.