EASTERN RENDEROS

BETHEL

EASTERN RENDEROS

Not wanting to be anywhere near Khela for a while, Bethel left camp with the last of the outgoing riders. He rode angrily for the first few miles, but the more distance he put between them, the better he began to feel. Fuck her, he thought, sucking in a fresh lungful of cold Renderosi air. While he probably did deserve some pushback for the way he’d carried on back there, she really had no call to insult him for the size of his penis.

He followed the soldier in front of him. Wherever the fuck they were, it was shrouded by fog. He was glad he wasn’t in charge of navigating. Through a wall of dead grass taller than his horse, he saw the outline of thatched rooves. A village, maybe? He hoped the inhabitants had the sense to stay at home. Sometimes they got curious and tagged along, and Tonneson’s lot didn’t like that. Standing orders were to warn the locals off, but if they refused, to give them steel. Nothing could get in the way of their mission.

Though he didn’t want them to, his thoughts drifted back to Khela, to some of the other things she’d said. She’d accused him of being jealous. He’d denied it, of course, but only because he hadn’t wanted to admit that she was right. He hated that she’d slept with Tonneson. The idea of sharing her made him feel ill. Curse his stupid brain for continuing to picture the pair of them with their groins locked together!

And curse his heart, too, for still harbouring feelings for the girl. So stupid that he’d only come to love her after they’d broken up. After he’d taken his shot and missed. She’d moved on. So what, though? Had he expected otherwise? She was her own person, capable of making her own decisions. So what if one of them had been to fuck Tonneson? Enough of that, though. He was starting to go around in circles. And anyway, what was the point of wasting mental energy on someone who probably wasn’t thinking about him?

There was no more time to reflect. With the fog suddenly behind him and riders scattering, he had to decide which tracker team to join. He chose Hassing and Mulkern. He didn’t know much about Mulkern except that he was just another trooper, but Hassing’s reputation preceded him. More than once he’d heard about how the sergeant had a nose on him that would have made a sniffer dog jealous. And just this morning, the soldier Russek had proclaimed him the Scouts’ best tracker.

Hassing led them swiftly away from the other teams, following what Bethel had come to know as a shepherds’ trail. It was one of many things the soldiers had taught him. The man dismounted once to read the spoor, though Bethel had to admit that he still had no idea what that was, exactly. Sometimes the spoor was a twig. It could also be a rock or a patch of snow. When Bethel looked at those things, he didn’t see anything special. But Hassing did. And what he saw on this occasion caused him to leave the shepherds’ trail and follow the myriad animal tracks snaking through the woods.

Somewhere around mid-morning, the sergeant found their quarry.

“There!” cried Hassing, pointing to the edge of a swamp. At first Bethel wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be looking at, so he just stared at the reeds and the glassy surface of the water, all brown and nasty-looking. But then he heard a strangled cry, after which a figure dashed out from behind some bushes and charged headlong into the bog.

Mulkern raised his crossbow and snapped off a bolt. The missile went wide and vanished in the muck. “Aw, fuck it!” he said, reloading.

Hassing steadied his horse. “Don’t waste another shot. She’s out of range.” He put a horn to his lips and blew a long note.

“We going in after her, sarge?” asked Mulkern, an expectant look on his face.

“My word we are,” said the sergeant, nodding.

The soldiers left the horses, shrugged out of their cloaks and ran into the swamp. Bethel followed. Even though he didn’t think he was all that out of shape, he was gasping for breath in an embarrassingly short time. He did his best to keep up, but lagged behind from the beginning.

On the other hand, he was perfectly positioned to watch the pursuit unfold. Desperation lent the girl some initial speed, but she tired quickly. She also wasted energy lumbering over mossy hummocks rather than dashing around them, and all the while the swampy ground sucked at her boots, slowing her pace.

Hassing and Mulkern sped along, predators after a prey that just wasn’t up to the task of outrunning them. The sergeant got a hand on the girl, but then slipped and almost fell. She managed to spin away from his grasp, the hood of her cloak flying back and flapping against her shoulders as she pelted along. She cried out in terror. He lunged for her again but missed.

“Get her!” shouted Mulkern.

The girl panicked. In her confusion, she stopped, then doubled back. Mulkern went to tackle her, but she fended him off with one arm. As he pitched over, he reached out and slapped her ankle. She tripped, landing in a pool of slimy water, arms flailing. She was still trying to get out when Hassing came flying and dropped square on top of her.

“Ha!” cried Mulkern, on his feet again and punching the air in victory. His celebration turned out to be premature, for the girl soon wriggled out from underneath the sergeant. “Oh shit!”

Bethel had almost caught up to everyone by then, though he gasped and wheezed while stomping gracelessly through the water. He gaped at Hassing who was lying insensible with a trickle of blood running down his forehead. “She’s going to get away!”

Mulkern moved to intercept her, but Hassing managed to recover his wits. “Ungh,” he said to the girl as he grabbed her by her ankles and reeled her back into the pool with him. She fought, screaming and kicking and landing hard blows on his shoulders and jaw. He deflected her last with a forearm, then lunged and punched her full in the face.

“She out?” asked Mulkern as the sergeant pushed the girl’s limp body out of the pool.

“Obviously,” said Hassing, breathing hard. He was wet and covered in freezing bog muck.

Mulkern made a whistling noise at the girl’s squashed nose and the blood sheeting her face. “You really fucked her up!”

“Yeah. Sound the horn, will you?”

Mulkern blew two lengthy notes. “How long?”

The sergeant looked at him. “Until what?”

“Until she wakes up?”

Hassing pointed. “She’s already starting to come around.”

“Oh shit! What if she... you know?”

“Just relax, trooper.”

“I mean, really, what if she’s got that thing and she–?”

“Calm down.”

“But she could be–? What if she turns us into–?”

Hassing fixed Mulkern with a stony glare. “I’ll not say it again, trooper. Breathe. And stop fingering your crossbow like that, will you? She hasn’t turned me, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Right,” said Mulkern, sighing in relief. “Right.”

“Mm.”

“Do you think it’s really her?”

“Dunno yet,” said Hassing, rubbing his jaw. He uncoiled a length of rope.

“It isn’t,” said Bethel, still out of breath. He felt worse than terrible, and was dangerously close to losing his breakfast. “It’s not her.”

Hassing said nothing as he bent to the task of securing the girl’s arms.

Mulkern looked startled. “No?”

Bethel sucked in air like he was trying to win some kind of breathing contest. “No. I’d know. It isn’t her.”

“Really?”

Bethel pointed at the girl’s tight brown curls. “Yeah,” he said between breaths. “Hair’s all wrong. Wrong colour and everything. Not only that, but–”

“We still have to take her in,” said Hassing as he removed her backpack and cloak and tossed them aside. “Heads up.”

“Yes, sergeant.” Though he wasn’t happy about being cut off by a man who was technically his inferior, Bethel let it go. Roaoo always said that if he rode out with the soldiers, he was to assume the rank of pElrondte.

“Let’s start checking her gear then,” said Mulkern, reaching for the backpack. He spilled the contents on the ground and began rummaging around. There was a water skin, strips of jerked meat, and a leather pouch containing a few pieces of pyrite and some charred cloth wrapped in bark.

“Go through these carefully,” said Hassing, tossing Bethel a muddy fur-lined coat and shirt. “Check for hidden pockets.” Then he began taking off the girl’s trousers.

“No problem,” said Bethel. He couldn’t help but notice the speed with which the man stripped the girl to the waist. She had small, firm breasts and dark skin. Much darker than the girl they wanted.

“What’s the thing supposed to look like, again?” asked Mulkern. “Heavy, length of a finger, dull. And what else?”

Hassing gave him an annoyed look. “You’re kidding me, right? Heavy, dull, metallic. The length of your index finger.”

“Oh right,” said Mulkern. “Yeah. Well, there’s nothing like that here.” He shoved the girl’s belongings aside and watched the sergeant go about his business. “Hasn’t got much in the way of tits, eh?” he said, pointing. He smirked at Bethel, who smirked back. Hassing pursed his lips but didn’t reply.

“Uungh,” said the girl, not yet fully conscious. Hassing took off her trousers and flung them aside, leaving her naked apart from her boots and gloves.

“Woah,” said Mulkern. “Look at the size of that hedge! It’s like you didn’t even take her pants off!” Bethel couldn’t help but laugh.

“Mm,” said Hassing, not really listening. He removed the girl’s gloves and boots and upended them. Nothing fell out. Then he removed his own right glove and took a breath.

Mulkern screwed up his face. “Oh no, sergeant. You really gonna do it?”

“Orders are orders.” As Hassing’s fingers disappeared up between the girl’s legs, it seemed to Bethel as if she suddenly regained complete consciousness. She screamed and struggled, and Mulkern had to jump in to help hold her down. The sergeant completed his task, then flipped her onto her belly and began a second investigation. This time the girl howled like an injured animal.

“Oh,” said Bethel, wincing at the sight. “Oh. Geez.” He’d known it was coming, of course, but hadn’t expected the reality of it to be so… confronting. And he wasn’t even the recipient! No one was holding his naked body down and putting their finger all… in him… like that. “That was, uh, something,” he said when it was over.

Mulkern pursed his lips. “She couldn’t have swallowed the fucking thing, could she?”

Hassing held up one of his palms. “The length of your index finger? I doubt it, but who knows? We’ll take her back and let Roaoo deal with her.” He pointed to a spot behind the trooper. “I think I dropped my crossbow around there somewhere. Find it for me, will you?”

Mulkern left and came back with the sergeant’s weapon. “Should I sound the horn again?” he asked, handing it over.

“Yeah,” said Hassing. “Twice this time.” The girl was shivering, so he helped her sit up and put her cloak around her shoulders. He returned the supplies to her backpack, then cleaned and reloaded his crossbow.

They all sat in silence, Bethel and the soldiers crouching and alert, the girl huddled with her knees to her chest. Blood dripped down her face. An answering call was heard, miles away, after which Mulkern blew the horn again.

They waited. “Hey,” said the trooper, a note of panic in his voice. “Hey! I’m pretty sure I didn’t have this spot on my arm before…”

Bethel looked at Mulkern’s arm but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. He shrugged. “Nah. It’s nothing.”

The words did little to alleviate the man’s worry. “So I’m not turning, then?”

“No. It’s not her, remember?”

“Try to keep it together, son,” said Hassing without so much as glancing in Mulkern’s direction. “You’re fine.”

More time passed. Despite the cold, a cloud of mosquitoes descended. As Bethel slapped and shooed them away, Mulkern blew the horn again. The soldiers seemed to sense something happening to the north, well beyond the marsh. He couldn’t see anything, though, not unless you counted rocks and trees.

“Is that Hoyt?” asked Mulkern.

Hassing grunted. “And Tod.”

“Wow,” said Bethel. He could make out some indistinct shapes moving a long way off, sort of, but that was it. If he hadn’t known where to look, he’d have almost certainly missed them. “You guys have keen eyes.”

“All right,” said Hassing, getting up. “Let’s go.” He hauled the girl to her feet and led her by the elbow.

Soldier Tod was the first to greet them. “You two look like a couple o’ bog monsters,” he said, grinning at Hassing and Mulkern’s mucky leathers. He turned to Bethel. “How you doing, sir?”

“I’m all right,” said Bethel.

Hoyt peered at the wound on Hassing’s forehead. “She gave you a bit o’ trouble, looks like.”

The sergeant shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

“Brought her down all by himself,” said Mulkern.

“Not true,” said Hassing, pressing his lips into a flat line. “It was a team effort.”

“So?” asked Hoyt. “Is it her?”

Hassing shook his head. “No. Another decoy, most likely.”

Hoyt made a face. “Fuck. That sucks.”

“So,” said Mulkern tiredly, “do we need to go back for the horses now or what?”

Tod shook his head. “Nah. We got Judsen and Alec waiting down the track with spares.”

“Fuck yeah!” said Mulkern, making a fist. “Fuck yeah! I fuckin’ love the Scouts!”

“Quit the chatter,” said Hassing. “Let’s get where we need to go, shall we?”

Troopers Judsen and Alec were indeed awaiting them with spare horses. The pair were so well camouflaged that if they hadn’t stepped out onto the track when they did, Bethel probably have walked right past. Still, he tried to play it cool and pretend he hadn’t flinched at the sight of them.

“For you, sergeant,” said Judsen, handing Hassing the reins to Brown Becca. “The honour’s all yours.”

Brown Becca was the sergeant’s favourite, Bethel knew. She was a solid mare, an Ivarian, and the kind that could take both a rider and passenger without flipping the fuck out. Which, as far as horses went, was comparatively rare. The man almost smiled as he took her into his care.

They untied the girl, only to clap iron shackles on her wrists and ankles before putting her on top of the horse. Bethel noticed how well she sat sidesaddle. Probably a decent rider, which meant they’d really have to keep an eye on her. He gawped at the dark legs poking out from Bethelath her coat, and tried not to dwell on the fact that she was otherwise naked. Hassing must have seen him looking because when he got up behind her in the saddle, he closed her coat and tied it shut with a leather strap.

Tonneson was the first to meet them when they finally made it back to camp. He looked from the girl’s bloodied face to Hassing’s and back again. “Is it her?” he asked.

“No sir,” said Hassing, shaking his head. “We’re inclined to think not.”

Tonneson frowned. “Ah. Well, Roaoo is waiting for you in his tent regardless. Take her there directly, please. Best not to keep him waiting.”

“Sir.”

Tonneson pointed at Mulkern. “And you go with him.”

Mulkern straightened in the saddle. “Yes, sir.”

Stablehands came for the horses. Hassing dismounted, helped his captive down, and led her away. Bethel followed with Mulkern.

Khela let them into Roaoo’s tent. Bethel noted the effort she put into not looking at him, and he retaliated in kind. One of these days he’d be the bigger man and stop playing silly games. But not today.

“Ah, and there you are,” said Roaoo, emerging from behind his writing desk as they entered. “Sergeant, trooper.” He offered Bethel no greeting aside from a curt nod, but that was nothing new.

“Magister,” said Hassing and Mulkern in unison.

Roaoo went to the girl, pushing aside hair that had fallen down past her forehead. He frowned at her broken nose. “Give me something to clean her up with, will you?” he asked of no one in particular.

“Here sir,” said Khela, bringing him a piece of cloth that she doused with water from a pitcher on Roaoo’s desk.

“Unh!” said the girl as Roaoo took the cloth and dabbed at the blood on her face. She flinched and jerked her head away.

“It’s not her,” said Khela.

Roaoo nodded. “No. It’s not.”

“Definitely not her,” said Bethel, annoyed that Khela had beaten him to the punch. “I was there when they took her, you know.”

Roaoo gave Bethel a withering look. “Thank you,” he said, “for belabouring the point.”

“Well…” said Bethel, but then he broke off. Not only did he not know how to complete the sentence, he didn’t want to back answer the magister. Only fools did that.

“You may go,” Roaoo told Khela. No doubt he knew that if he let her stay, she and Bethel would start bickering. That, and she wasn’t actually needed. She didn’t look pleased about being asked to leave, and Bethel made sure to catch her eye and grin as she departed. Antagonising her wasn’t as satisfying as he’d hoped, but he couldn’t help himself.

The magister waited until Khela was gone before taking Mulkern and Bethel into a corner of the tent. “So, what happened?”

Mulkern swallowed. “The girl was hiding in the forest a few miles west of here, sir, probably heading for Akwie.”

“I see,” said Roaoo. “Actually, it’s pronounced Okwei. Do try to get it right. All right, so then what happened?”

“The sergeant and I ran her down. We searched her. The clothes and bag are the target’s, we think, but–”

Roaoo rubbed his chin. “But she doesn’t have the object on her?”

“No, sir. Not that we could find, anyway.”

“And you’re certain of this?”

“Yes, sir.” Mulkern glanced at Hassing and swallowed again before turning his eyes back to Roaoo. “The sergeant was as, uh, well… he was as thorough as you ordered us to be, sir.”

Roaoo looked Bethel up and down. “And you accompanied them into the swamp, did you? What say you of this trooper’s account?”

“I’d say it’s about right,” said Bethel, nodding. “I can’t really add anything to it.”

“Very well,” said Roaoo. Then he turned and went back to where Hassing waited with their captive.

“Oh boy,” whispered Bethel. “This is going to be something.”

Mulkern grunted. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

Roaoo began his interrogation with surprisingly little preamble. “Pay close attention to my words, please,” he told the girl. “I have questions and you have answers. I’m looking for someone that I suspect you met recently. Do you understand me?”

The girl turned her face away.

“Here it comes,” murmured Bethel.

“What’s your name?” Roaoo asked the girl.

She shook her head.

At a nod from Roaoo, Hassing traded places with him and forced the girl onto her knees. The sergeant knelt so he was about eye level with her, and without warning, jammed his fingers into her face.

“What’s your name?” Hassing hissed as he squeezed her nose. She shrieked and tried to wriggle away, but he held her fast. Her irons rattled as she struggled. “Tell me your name.”

The girl burst into tears, but said nothing.

Mulkern coughed and looked down at his feet. “Come on,” he muttered under his breath. “Just tell him.”

“Damn it!” shouted Roaoo. “Save yourself the trouble, girl! Give us your name!”

Hassing let go of the girl’s head. She started panting when he came at her again, as if steeling herself for another bout of pain. In the moment before his fingers made contact again, she screamed a word.

“What?” asked Roaoo, motioning at Hassing to move aside. “What did you say?”

“Agbo!” screamed the girl. “Agbo! My name is Agbo! Please don’t hurt me anymore!”

Hassing stood up and took a pace backward.

“Agbo?” Roaoo moved to stand in front of her. “Your name’s Agbo?”

“Yes,” said the girl, nodding. “Yes. Please don’t hurt me anymore! I’ll talk, I’ll talk.”

Roaoo turned and said, “Trooper Mulkern, go and fetch Agbo something to eat, will you?”

“Yes, sir.” Mulkern sounded relieved as he hurried away.

“Sit, Agbo,” said Roaoo in a soft voice. He brought a chair and helped the girl down onto it. “Sit. Are you thirsty? Would you like some water?”

“You don’t understand!” bawled Agbo, tears streaming down her face. “Now she’s going to kill them!”

“Get these restraints off her, will you sergeant?” asked Roaoo. After Hassing removed his leather strap from around Agbo’s coat and unshackled her, the magister brought a cup of water that she downed almost in one gulp. “Now, you said she? What do you mean by that?”

Agbo hesitated. “A woman.”

Roaoo’s voice was gentle. “What woman?”

“A woman I met in the forest.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know her.” Agbo, shook her head. “I never met her before.”

Roaoo nodded. “All right. You said she’s going to kill them? Who do you mean? Who is she going to kill?”

Agbo hesitated again before answering. “My family.”

“Why’s that, Agbo?”

“She said she’d kill them if I told anyone I met her.”

“Ah. And how will this… person… do that, exactly? How would she even know you told anyone about her?”

Agbo began bawling. “I don’t know! She said she’d know if I told. Ooh, I shouldn’t be talking! I shouldn’t be talking! Now I’ve killed them...”

Roaoo put both hands on her shoulders. “No, Agbo. No. It’s not true. You’ve done no such thing.”

“Yes, I have!”

“No,” said Roaoo, cupping her chin with his right hand. “No, you haven’t. Now, listen to me. We already know who she is, this woman you met. She’s a criminal. Do you hear me? A criminal. We’re hunting her down.”

The girl seemed confused by this new information. “I–”

“Where are you from, Agbo?”

Agbo hesitated again before answering. “Mumolo.”

Roaoo stepped away, letting go of her. “That’s where you’re from? Mumolo?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm. And this woman, then? She didn’t call herself anything?”

“Huh?”

“The woman you met. She didn’t give you a name at all, did she? Or a title, maybe?”

“No.”

“I see. What did she look like?”

Agbo shook her head. “It’s hard to say. I was scared to look at her, mostly. She was filthy, I can tell you that much.”

“Try to remember in detail, if you can.” Roaoo pursed his lips. “Would you say she was she pretty or ugly?”

“Pretty, I think. I remember thinking she had a pretty face under all the dirt. And I also remember her eyes...”

“Her eyes? What about them?”

Bethel saw Agbo’s expression shift. For the tiniest moment, the tension in her shoulders vanished and she looked… serene? Perhaps even… spellbound? Not a word he was comfortable using, and definitely not one to utter in front of a man as rational as the magister, either. Roaoo seemed to notice the change in her as well, though what he made of it Bethel couldn’t say.

“They were green,” said Agbo quietly. “So green. I remember… she had the most beautiful eyes I ever saw in my life.”

“And her hair? What colour was her hair? Was it blonde, brown, black?”

“Black. She had black hair. And her skin was brown like mine, though not so dark.”

“Good, good,” said Roaoo, apparently pleased with the progress he was making. “Thank you, Agbo. That’s wonderful. Now think back… how did you first meet? Can you remember?”

Agbo looked up at him. “Do you think my family’s safe?”

The magister gave her a sympathetic look. “To be honest,” he said, running his hands down the front of his robe, “I cannot say for certain, child. But rest assured that nothing you say to me now could cause them any harm. You have to trust me on this, all right? I am not lying to you, I swear.”

Agbo nodded. “All right.”

“So, how did you come to meet her?”

“The dog.”

“Oh?”

“One of our dogs went missing. I went out looking for him. I thought he might be in the forest, so I went there hoping to find him. I was calling his name when, I don’t know... this woman, she just jumped out of the trees at me. I tried to get away, but she… I don’t know. For some reason I just couldn’t run. She hurt me. She–!”

“It’s all right,” said Roaoo, patting her shoulder. “Slow down, take it easy.”

Agbo’s eyes widened. Her voice, when it came again, dropped to a whisper. “She was a witch. She said she could do magic.”

Roaoo went very still. “Really?”

“Uh huh.”

“What kind of… magic?”

“I don’t know. She said she’d kill my family with magic unless I did what she wanted.”

“And what did she want?”

Agbo grimaced. “My clothes. She wanted my clothes. I gave them to her. She made me put on hers, too, then she handed me a pack and told me to take the road to Okwei.”

“Okwei? Why? Why did she want you to go there?”

“I don’t know. She didn’t say. All she said was that I had to be there by week’s end. And not to speak to anyone or else she would kill my family.”

“I see. And so you took the road to Okwei?”

“Yes.” Agbo might have said more, but in that moment Mulkern returned with a bowl of soup and half a loaf of bread. Roaoo gestured and Mulkern handed her the food. She dropped the bread in her lap and put the bowl to her lips. Liquid spilled over the sides and onto her coat, but she didn’t seem to care.

“So, you took the road to Okwei?” asked Roaoo.

Agbo nodded. “Yes,” she said around a mouthful of soup. “I did. But it wasn’t safe. I hid in the forest whenever I saw anyone coming. Which was a lot. I spent days on that road, running and hiding.” She gestured at Mulkern and Hassing. “Until they found me.”

Roaoo began pacing. “As I think I mentioned before,” he said, “this isn’t the first time she’s done this. You are not her first victim. You were intended as a decoy, a distraction to throw us off her trail. So, when did you first meet her?”

“I don’t know exactly. Three days ago, maybe? Or four.”

“When? Morning or evening?”

“In the morning.”

“How early?”

“It would have been a little bit after dawn.”

“And where? Where was this? In Mumolo itself?”

Agbo shook her head. “No. Just outside. It’s a... we have a big farm on the outskirts of town.”

“We? You mean your family?”

Agbo nodded. “Yes.”

“Where outside of town? In what direction?”

“North. North, but not so far. Just a few miles.”

“All right. Now, you said that the woman forced you to exchange clothing? Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“What were you wearing? Trousers, belt, shirt?”

“Yes. All that. My mantle, too.”

“What were your clothes made of? Wool or cotton?”

“No, no. Wool.”

“What colour?”

“Green? The mantle was brown though, I think. I had my hat with me too because I remember it was raining out when I went to look for the dog.”

Roaoo smiled. “Very good, Agbo. Now, did she say anything else that you remember?”

“No, not really. I mean, I don’t think so. She took my clothes, she told me to go to Okwei and to stay on the road and not talk to anyone. And she said never to come back.”

“I see.”

Agbo began sobbing. “I keep asking myself why.”

“What do you mean, why?”

“Well, why me? Why did she pick me?”

“Ah,” said Roaoo, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Yes, well I suppose it’s normal to ask these sorts of questions after something like this. There was no rhyme or reason to it though, I don’t think. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Agbo shrugged off his words. “Why didn’t I fight back? She wasn’t very big. I could have fought back. If I had, maybe I could have stopped her, and I wouldn’t be here now. And none of this would have happened.”

“No,” said Roaoo, shaking his head. “No. The one thing you mustn’t do is blame yourself. This happened because it happened, not because of anything you did or did not do. Had you tried to fight her, she would have killed you. You are here today because you kept your head, Agbo.”

“I… suppose. And I felt paralysed the whole time. Do you think it was the magic?”

“Do you?”

Agbo nodded. “Yes. Something about her was off. She felt… I dunno, wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“Yes. She felt so wrong. Almost… out of place. It was the magic. It was... I don’t know… flowing out of her.”

That got Roaoo’s attention. “You could see the magic?”

“Yes.” Agbo bobbed her head. “The air was heavy with it. That’s why when she said she could kill my family, I believed her.”

“Can you describe it? Anything. Anything you mentioned–the magic, its flowing, the wrongness?”

“I don’t know,” said Agbo, screwing up her face. “I mean, when she was standing there it was almost like it was, I don’t know, swirling all around her. It was swirling, flowing like water. But of course it wasn’t water. It was like nothing I’ve ever seen. It was evil. Evil and wrong.”

“Evil?”

“Uh huh. It was disgusting. It made me sick to my stomach to be near it.”

“So you could see the magic as well as feel it? Incredible!”

Bethel listened, amazed by what he was hearing. Another piece of the puzzle had fallen into their laps. He wondered if Khela were outside, eavesdropping. He knew her well enough to know there was no chance she wasn’t standing out there right now with her ear practically glued to the tent wall. What would she make of Agbo’s words? And what would she make of Agbo herself?

When he spoke next, Roaoo’s voice was almost a murmur. “Did the magic… speak to you? Did you hear a voice at all? Like a gentle whispering, perhaps?”

“No, I don’t think so. No. Or if I did, I don’t remember it.”

“And did you feel anything odd prior to meeting her, prior to her arElrondl? Anything weird?”

“Weird? How do you mean?”

Roaoo knelt beside the girl. “Before she came along, did you feel anything? Did you feel a sense of dread or unease, for example? Had you woken up feeling as if something about the world was unusual? Like it was strange or off in some way?”

“Well, I don’t know. No, I don’t think so. Not really…”

“Hmm,” said Roaoo, rubbing his chin. “Just answer one more question for me, my dear, and then I’ll leave you be for the moment.” He paused. “Can you still feel her? At this exact moment, can you feel the magic?”

“Can I still feel it? Now?”

“Yes. Are you able to sense her, at this very moment, even though she is far away?”

Agbo shook her head. “I… no, I don’t think so.”

“So you cannot feel her now? Nothing at all?”

“No. Should I be able to, though? I mean–”

Roaoo stood up and shook his head. “No, no. It’s quite all right. Forget it. You should rest now, my dear. You’ve been through a great deal, and it’s time to rest. I feel compelled to say, though, that despite everything that has happened to you, you have done marvellously well. Marvellously well indeed.”

Agbo looked into her bowl of soup, but instead of taking another sip she asked, “So, my family? Do you think they’re all right?”

“Sergeant,” Roaoo said to Hassing, “please ask Ghislaine to come as soon as she can.”

“Sir.” Hassing left the tent.

Roaoo peered at Agbo. “He did a rather good job on your nose, you know. I think Ghislaine has greater skill, personally, but he didn’t do a bad job at all.”

The girl brought a hand to her face as if to touch it, but then stopped. “What do you mean?”

“He was fixing it,” said Roaoo with a faint smile. “Not torturing you. It was a sneaky trick to play, though, and one that I really must apologise for.”

Fresh tears flowed down Agbo’s cheeks. “I want to go home.”

Roaoo nodded. “And very shortly, you shall.” A pause. “Your name means ‘morning rose’ doesn’t it?”

Agbo sobbed. “I just want to go home.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s what it means. Oh. Unless, it’s ‘morning flower’ perhaps? I forget. And yes, you can go home. As a matter of fact, we’ll be making for Mumolo as soon as possible.”

Agbo looked up, her eyes shining with hope and disbelief. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you! Oh, thank you!”

“Yes,” said Roaoo. Then he looked at the ground and said, “Well I’m not sure you should be thanking me just yet.”