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  “You mean Baron Uti?”

  “The very one.”

  “But . . .” She remembered the baron in the party of guests walking into the hall with the royal family. She had not sensed any magic around him, but—wait. Court magicians. Kylian.

  He had looked at her and picked her out of the crowd. He had tried to seduce her and then when the fire demons hit, he had vanished.

  She met the grey eyes of the man who, according to Roald, had tried to kill his half-brother. And he honestly did not look like a killer. He might have tried because he considered his brother a danger to everyone. Or he might not. Even in business, the people who looked least likely to default on their payments sometimes did.

  How could she know?

  Do not get involved in this feud. It has nothing to do with Saardam.

  Except it did, because of Loesie.

  “You have brought us here because . . .” She licked her lips, finally putting some pieces of this strange situation together. “Are you an exorcist?”

  The duke laughed. “They love words like that in the west, don’t they, son?”

  Sylvan flicked his eyebrows in a kind of “get on with it” gesture.

  “Are you?”

  “If that’s the kind of answer you want and the kind of language you like to use, yes, I am.” The look in his grey eyes was intense. He pushed his chair back, picked up the walking stick that leaned against the edge of the table next to him, and shuffled to a cabinet against the back wall. His stick went tap, tap, tap on the floor.

  The cabinet was made from dark wood and had doors with small panes of glass through which Johanna couldn’t see anything because of the reflection of the candles in the glass.

  He fiddled about with a key and opened the door with a creak. From inside, he produced a cup, a signet ring and a gnarled and knotted piece of wood, which he placed on the table. The cup was an odd thing, made of dark glass and heavily decorated with gold paint.

  The duke returned to the back wall, to another cupboard. Tap, tap, tap.

  Next he brought a cage to the table. It was an ugly thing, made out of rusty iron, and big enough to fit a large cat. There was a little door at the front, which the duke opened by lifting a latch that seemed too heavy for a door of that size.

  He went back to another cupboard.

  Roald frowned at the cage. “What’s that for?”

  “That’s for holding the demon, young man,” the duke said, his back to them.

  The servant Hans came in and quickly collected the plates and trays. Johanna noticed how he stayed well clear of the objects his master had put on the table.

  Nellie met Johanna’s eyes and frowned. “What’s that for?” she mouthed.

  Johanna shrugged.

  Loesie glared at the duke’s back, her face a mask of distrust.

  The duke came back to the table, tap, tap, tap, and put a carafe next to the cup. He placed the walking stick so that it leant against the edge of the table and made a show of slowly lowering himself in the chair with a groan.

  “What’s all this for?” Johanna asked into the silence.

  The duke waited until Hans had carried out the last tray of plates and tableware and shut the door behind him. He poured a dark fluid from the carafe into the cup.

  “We must first determine the nature of your friend’s possession,” he said, swirling the fluid in the cup.

  Johanna heard Reverend Romulus talk about goat’s blood and black sorcery. That fluid didn’t look like blood. It looked like very dark wine.

  “Should some of us perhaps wait outside?”

  Roald watched with an expression of intense interest, but Nellie’s face had gone white as a ghost’s.

  The duke turned to her, surprised. “Why?”

  “Because the possession concerns only my friend, and me. Perhaps.”

  Duke Lothar chuckled. “So, you’re afraid, young lady?” He pointed the bit of gnarled wood at Nellie, who bent back, so that the wood didn’t touch her. Her were wide. She nodded.

  “She’s got nothing to do with this,” Johanna said.

  “What about him?” He poked the wood at Roald, who didn’t flinch and gave the knot of wood a cold stare, as if it were a dead fish.

  Johanna’s heart thudded. If the duke knew who Roald was, he sure did a good job of acting like he didn’t. “He has nothing to do with the possession either. Let both of them go to their rooms.”

  Roald started, “No. I need to protect my—”

  Johanna cut him off. “Yes, he’s got nothing to do with this.”

  “All right.” The duke leaned back. He seemed amused. “All right, let them go.”

  Nellie jumped to her feet as if she had been sitting on a spring. Roald didn’t move. Johanna wanted to get up and bodily push him out the door. Every minute he remained in this room was one where his identity could be discovered. But if she seemed too keen to have him gone, the duke would suspect something.

  Nellie said, “Aren’t you coming?”

  Roald said, “No.” And Johanna said, “Yes.”

  The duke pointed the wood at Roald again. “He’s not afraid. She isn’t afraid either.” He pointed in the direction of Loesie, and Loesie batted the wood away—

  Johanna shouted, “Don’t touch it!”

  But it was already too late. Magic flashed through the room.

  Loesie stiffened. Her eyed widened and went luminous white. She opened her mouth and let out a bone-chilling wail.

  Nellie screamed.

  Sylvan yelled at her, “Shut up!”

  While Loesie slowly fell face first onto the table.

  “Loesie!” Johanna pushed her seat back so hard that the chair fell over. She rushed to her friend’s side. Loesie’s skin was ice cold.

  “What have you done?” she screamed at the duke.

  Loesie went, “Hmmmmm!” She pushed herself up, her eyes like shining slits of whiteness. She balled her hands into a knot, her fingers white-knuckled.

  “Hmmmm! Ghghghghghgh!” She swayed from side to side. Her mouth moved but no sound came out.

  “Talk to us,” the duke said. “Talk to us, talk to us.” In a chanting voice.

  Nellie had remained by the door, the doorknob in her hand. Her face was so white that she might faint any moment.

  More than anything, Johanna wanted to get Roald out of here. Whatever was going to happen, it wasn’t going to be good.

  In her mind, she heard the Reverend Romulus’ voice talking about quackery and goat’s blood. Rituals from the Lord of Fire. Black magic. Necromancy. Dead bodies in the ice cellar.

  “Talk to us, talk to us, talk to us.”

  Loesie gave an animal-like snort.

  “It won’t work like this.” Even Sylvan’s voice sounded concerned.

  “Talk to us, talk to us, talk to us.”

  “Father, there is more going on than simple possession. This is not a spell cast by a peddler. You can’t break it like this.”

  Loesie produced a low hum. Her face was tilted to the ceiling, her eyes luminous white, leaking wisps of mist. She swayed in her seat and the duke swayed in the same rhythm. Had his eyes always been so cloudy?

  “Father!” Sylvan sprang forward, roughly shoving his father’s chair around. The walking stick slid to the ground with a loud clatter. Sylvan nearly tripped over it. “Father!” He shook his father’s shoulders.

  The duke’s eyes re-focused. “Huh, what?” He stared at his son, his expression confused. “What are we—” He looked around.

  Loesie still sat swaying from side to side. Her hum made her chest vibrate. Johanna wanted to clamp her hands ov
er her ears.

  “Do something!” Nellie yelled.

  Roald simply stared, his face in an expression of intense curiosity.

  Still humming, Loesie picked up the goblet. Her hand trembled so much that the wine spilled over the sides, first onto the tablecloth, but then on her dress as she lifted it to her mouth. She drank. Wine flowed past the sides of the cup down her chin, down her neck, over her chest, leaving dark red trails.

  She put the cup down and sat as if frozen, staring into nothingness.

  “What’s going on?” Johanna whispered when the silence lasted too long.

  Sylvan pushed Loesie’s shoulder, but there was no reaction. Her eyes blinked, but the irises still shone luminous white.

  Then Loesie sprang up from her chair. With stiff steps, she staggered towards the window. Her hands shook visibly. Her eyes blinked fast. Her bottom lip trembled; even her hair seemed alive. She was shaking too much to keep walking. Johanna glanced at the duke or Sylvan, but they didn’t look like they knew what to do either.

  Nellie watched from near the door, covering her mouth with her hand.

  And Loesie’s shaking still increased, until the entire room seemed to be shaking with her. She held her hands out in front of her, her fingers curved like claws. Now even her breathing was coming in gasps.

  Johanna couldn’t stand it anymore. “Is someone going to do anything?”

  Nellie yelled, “No, don’t go near her!”

  And Loesie let out an ear-splitting cry, that descended into a gasping gurgle, and a cough. She coughed and coughed, and leaned forward.

  Johanna patted her on the back. A visible muscle spasm went through Loesie’s body, and with a loud burp, a gush of dark vomit welled out of her mouth.

  The mass hit the floor with a wet splash and spatters going everywhere. And another lot.

  It was very dark-coloured because of the wine. Too dark, really, almost black. And it moved of its own.

  Johanna backed away, wiping dark specks from her shoes.

  Nellie screamed. “Oh, look! They’re spiders!”

  It was true. Thousands and thousands, millions of them, spreading out over the floor. Loesie coughed and vomited up more of them, covered in trails of slime. She coughed and vomited, struggling for breath. Gasping. Vomiting into her hands. Gasping.

  She was going to faint.

  Johanna stepped forward. She had to help her friend.

  “No, wait.” Sylvan pushed her roughly out of the way. With one hand he grabbed Loesie, who was about to collapse in her own spidery vomit. With his other hand, he made a sweeping gesture at the floor. He spoke a few harsh-sounding words.

  A blast of cold air went through the room that blew out all the candles. The curtains whipped up. The fire flared in the hearth. The flames were blue.

  Then silence returned.

  The spidery mass had turned to water. Sylvan caught Loesie as she collapsed.

  He carried her to a chair, her head lolling over his arm.

  Then he re-lit the candles on the table. His hand didn’t even shake.

  “Hmmm?” Loesie said. She opened her eyes and pushed herself up. “Johanna?”

  “Loesie!” Johanna was about to hug her friend, but Sylvan held her back.

  “Wait. She’s not completely cured.”

  Johanna retreated. The whiteness had gone from Loesie’s eyes. “Can you say something to me?”

  “What are we doing here?”

  Sylvan was right. The voice was Loesie’s, but the accent was not. Loesie spoke like a farm girl.

  “She’s a true witch,” the duke said, leaning back in his chair. He wiped sweat from his forehead. His face had taken on an ashen grey tone. “I can’t perform a full exorcism here. I will need to tap the magic lines.”

  Whatever that meant.

  “We have to take her out into the forest.”

  Johanna’s unease developed into full-blown panic. No, she did not want to go into that forest again. “We were on our way to town to find someone to cure her.”

  “You won’t find anyone else. I can cure her, but I’ll need a rest first. You will have to lift the curse from her before you reach Florisheim. I assume this is where you were travelling?”

  Johanna gave him a suspicious look. “Haven’t you heard what happened in Saardam?”

  “Sadly, I have. A lot of people have come up the river and told us the tales. My own brother was there and managed to escape with his life. He’s been back scarcely a day.”

  Curiosity took over. “You’ve spoken to him?” The man he was supposed to have wanted to kill. She didn’t know that they were that close to the town.

  “I have.”

  “Do you know how much of Saardam was burned? Who were the attackers? Who rules the city now?”

  “Word goes that the fire was started by the members of that church of theirs and that they now—”

  At the same time Nellie said, “Impossible.” Johanna said, “Cowpats!”

  And Nellie glared at her in a you-don’t-use-that-language-in-presence-of-a-duke kind of way.

  Johanna composed herself. “I don’t believe that for one moment. A lot of people, especially the nobles, hate the church, but they would never do something like that. Also, they forbid magic, and the fire was started with magic.”

  “I’m merely repeating what many people have been saying. I can’t verify the rumour without going there. The news is also that the church has instated a governor.”

  Johanna almost said cowpats a second time, but didn’t think Nellie would survive that.

  “Who is this governor of the church?” Next he was going to say Reverend Romulus and that would just show how much these rumours were worth—

  “A man who calls himself Alexandre.”

  “Who?” She looked at Nellie. “Do you know him?”

  Nellie shook her head. On Nellie’s other side, Loesie sat frowning at the duke.

  “According to refugees, this man has instated himself as regent. My brother isn’t happy about it. If anything, his son could claim the throne if the Saardam royal family does not show up anywhere.”

  Johanna’s heart thudded in her throat. Roald’s ring hung heavy against her chest. “Has anyone seen where they went?”

  “They fled like cowards.”

  They didn’t.

  Johanna met his grey eyes and returned his stare until she had to look away. If he expected her to say something about the royal family, he was going to be disappointed.

  She didn’t want to stay in this man’s house or eat his food, or wear his clothes.

  He put his hands on the armrests of his chair. “Go to bed now, my friends. Tomorrow, I will undertake the task of driving the remnants of the demon from your friend’s soul, and then you can travel on. You should travel on. Many refugees have come from Saarland to Florisheim, and you will surely find people amongst them you know.”

  Father. Although she didn’t dare hope.

  ‎

  Chapter 11

  * * *

  SYLVAN ACCOMPANIED the group back through the hall. They walked slowly, with Johanna and Sylvan supporting Loesie between them. She could walk but wasn’t very steady on her feet. She kept asking how they got here, and no matter how many times Johanna explained, the answer didn’t stick. The voice was Loesie’s, but the accent too cultured to belong to her.

  Going up the stairs was a struggle, with Loesie unable to lift her feet far enough, and the effort it required rendered her silent.

  Johanna’s eyes met Sylvan’s. “I find it had to believe that your father lets us go so easily.”

  “Do you? He is only interested in
the magical. He’s not interested in you, just in the demon. He’s wanted to capture a demon for a while.”

  “And then do what with it?” She thought about the rusty cage on the table.

  “My father likes to invent things. It is his dream to make a machine powered by magic. He wants a magical creature so that he can force it to lend its essence to moving the machine.”

  “Does he perform magic a lot?” Like, try to bring people back from the dead? Treading into dangerous territory now.

  “He likes to. I have to hold him back sometimes. He thinks he’s better than he is.”

  “It sounds dangerous.”

  “To him, yes. To everyone else, not so much. We’re on an estate well outside any town. Most of his constructs wander around the forest for a while before fading away without harming anyone.”

  “Then what about . . .” She brought her hand to her cheek, and thought it was unwise to ask about his scar. Men could be funny about those things.

  “Nothing to do with anything except my own stupidity. I failed to control a newly-acquired bear.”

  Ouch. “Is that why you came with the bandits? To capture Loesie?”

  “There were rumours of a magic-possessed woman coming this way, so he sent Sigvald. Possession is very rare and Sigvald is a brute, so I went with him, because I didn’t think that a lone woman in the presence of bandits was going to end happily.”

  “What did you do to make those spiders vanish?”

  “It’s just a simple spell that people with air magic can do.”

  “Didn’t look simple to me.”

  He stopped walking. “You know, you Saarlanders are all so ignorant about magic that even though some of you have a limited ability you wouldn’t know what to do with it. One day, someone is going to come who knows how to use magic and wants to take control over your country’s strategic location. You will be defenceless.”