Mind of a Witness

Chapter 6

I spun the silver locket in front of the grizzled farmer's eyes as the entire Court looked on. People of every stripe and caste maintained complete silence as I worked.

This man claimed to know things about the assassins that nobody else would. It was up to me to determine if he was telling the truth, or if he had made some lucky guesses in order to secure a reward.

"Watch the silver spin. Feel yourself drifting into the light. You have nothing to fear."

I always felt that I had to add that last sentence. But it never helped. This man was terrified of me, as most commoners in such a situation would be. The burly man's frame shook as I gripped his shoulder, sweat dripping from his short brown beard. He really had nothing to fear if he was telling the truth. I would not be using the Queen's magic.

al-Wahm al-Amil is what the people of Asia called it, the techniques drawn directly from 'The Book of Healing' more than five centuries ago. It predated the Hell Plague, and any kind of magic save for the far less reliable rituals of ancient gods, and some Kabbalistic rights.

After a couple minutes of soft encouragement, I felt the farmer's shoulders slump. His eyes were fixed only on the motion of the locket. His gnarled hands unballed, fists turning into lax hands hanging by his hips.

I murmured, "You said that you knew where the assassins travelled from, correct?"

"Yes, Witness."

"Tell me the name of the town."

"Ol' Whitby."

There was an undercurrent of muttering. This was not a popular answer within either contingent. Whitby was far to the North, closer to the ogres than the wolves. It didn't fit with any theory presented thus far.

The Queen made a sharp, horizontal cut through the air with Her hand. Silence fell over the chamber once more.

I asked, "How do you know this, sir?"

The other man murmured, "They paid me ta water 'n graze their horses fer a couple days. But I knew the brand, so I did. T'was Vance Foster's herd, plain as day, Witness."

"And mister Foster rents steeds up near Whitby?"

"Aye, Witness."

I paused for a moment, thinking. A quick glance at the rest of my newly formed group wasn't helpful. Prince Gnarl was watching intently from the Queen's side, unmoving. Guardsman Fry was looking over Cartographer Lope's shoulder, as the werewolf located the correct map of the northlands and began to plot distances.

It wasn't enough. Circumstantial at best. Finally, I asked, "You've already seen the bodies and confirmed that these were the men in question. Did they speak in front of you?"

The man shifted uneasily. His answer was, "Not meanin' ta do so, but yes."

I was confused for a moment. Then the gist of what must have happened clicked in my brain. "You eavesdropped on them."

The man reddened somewhat, but admitted, "I did, Witness."

"It's okay. Speak more of the incident, please."

"They were camped out by th' barn. Didn't know I could get from th' house's attic right ta the loft. Hid behind the hay and listened."

I said, "That was very clever of you. What did you hear?"

The man seemed encouraged by my approval. His voice held a conspiratorial tone as he related, "They talked 'bout killin'. But they talked weird. Like the deed was already done. An' since I woulda heard if somethin' like that happened, thought they were just nutters talkin' big."