Uprooted - Naomi Novik Page 0,124

the last three days, as though I were perfectly astonished by their ignorance. “Don’t you know who I am?” I said. “I’m Agnieszka, the witch. I’m here to see Kasia.” And to have a look at the queen, more to the point. I couldn’t think why the trial would be put off so long, unless the king was trying to give the queen more time to get well.

The guards all looked at each other uncertainly. Before they could decide what to do about me, I whispered, “Alamak, alamak,” and walked straight on through the locked doors between them.

They weren’t nobles, so I suppose they weren’t inclined to pick a quarrel with a witch. They didn’t come after me, at least. I climbed the narrow staircase around and around until I came out onto the landing with the hungry imp knocker gaping at me. Taking the round knob felt as though my hand was being licked thoroughly by a lion that was deciding whether or not I would taste good. I held it as gingerly as I could and banged on the door.

I had a list of arguments for the Willow, and behind them flat determination. I was ready to shove my way past her if I had to; she was too much a fine lady to lower herself to wrestling with me, I suspected. But she didn’t come to the door at all, and when I pressed my ear to it, I faintly heard shouting inside. In alarm, I backed up and tried to think: would the guards be able to knock the door down, if I shouted for them? I didn’t think so. The door was made of iron and riveted with iron, and there wasn’t even a keyhole to be seen.

I looked at the imp, which leered back. Hunger radiated from its empty maw. But if I filled it up? I called a simple spell, just some light: the imp immediately began to suck the magic in, but I kept feeding power to the spell until finally a little candle-wavering gleam lit in my hand. The imp’s hunger was an enormous pull, guzzling in nearly all the magic I could give, but I managed to divert a narrow silver stream: I let it collect into a tiny pool inside me, and then I squeezed out, “Alamak,” and with one desperate jump I went through the door. It took all the strength I had left: I rolled out onto the floor of the room beyond and sprawled flat on my back, emptied.

Footsteps came running across the floor to me, and Kasia was at my side. “Nieshka, are you all right?”

The shouting was from the next room: Marek, standing fists clenched in the middle of the floor and roaring at the Willow, who stood ramrod-stiff and white with anger. Neither of them paid much attention to my falling in through the door; they were too busy being furious at each other.

“Look at her!” Marek flung an arm out at the queen. She still sat by the same window as before, listless and unmoved. If she heard the shouting, she didn’t so much as flinch. “Three days without a word from her lips, and you call yourself a healer? What use are you?”

“None, evidently,” the Willow said icily. “All I have done is everything that could be done, as well as it could be done.” She did take notice of me then, finally: she turned and looked down her nose at me on the floor. “I understand this is the miracle-worker of the kingdom. Perhaps you can spare her from your bed long enough to do better. Until then, tend her yourself. I am not going to stand here to be howled at for my efforts.”

She marched past me, twitching her skirts to one side so they wouldn’t even brush up against mine, as if she didn’t care to be contaminated. The bar lifted itself at a flick of her hand. She swept out, and the heavy iron door clanged shut behind her, scraping on the stone like an axe-blade coming down.

Marek turned on me, his temper still unspent. “And you! You’re meant to be the foremost witness, and you’re wandering the castle looking like a kitchen slut. Do you think anyone is going to believe a word out of your mouth? Three days since I got you on the list—”

“You got me!” I said indignantly, wobbling up to my feet with the support of Kasia’s arm.

“—and all you’ve done is

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