A Book of Spirits and Thieves - Morgan Rhodes Page 0,26
somewhere nearby drew his attention away from the spirit girl.
“Wait here,” he told Becca.
A crowd had quickly gathered. Maddox now began to run toward the commotion to see what had caused it.
“What’s going on?” he asked a woman at the edge of the crowd with two children at her feet, clutching her skirts.
“A witch,” the woman told him. He peered over the shoulders of those in front of him to see that a young girl had been grabbed by a man wearing the uniform of Valoria’s private guard: brown leather tunic and trousers, red cape, and golden helmet. “She’s been accused of using her magic in an attempt to summon a storm to ruin the festival.”
Maddox looked up at the cloudless blue sky. “There’s no storm.”
The woman shrugged. “As I said, it was an attempt.”
It was rumored that Valoria arrested and imprisoned witches with minor abilities in elemental magic, reasoning that the use of such spells made her own powers seem less incredible and fearsome to her subjects. Another rumor was that she didn’t want these witches to gather in large groups, pooling their magic in any attempt to usurp her throne.
“So now what?” Maddox asked the woman. Despite his command that she stay behind, Becca had come to stand next to him.
“There will be a public execution,” the woman said.
“What?” Becca exclaimed. “They’re going to kill that girl just because someone accused her of being a witch? What is this, old Salem? You’re kidding me, right?”
“It’s the way of this place,” he told her under his breath. How could she not know this?
“The way?” she sputtered. “What backward, messed-up, whackadoodle place is this? That girl doesn’t deserve to die. She didn’t do anything wrong!”
He agreed with her, despite not fully grasping her truly bizarre language. He’d always found such knee-jerk decisions to be cruel and unnecessary. But what could he do about such matters? The goddess decided the laws—it was up to her citizens to abide by them.
He shook his head. “An accusation is more than enough to condemn her, no matter how”—he paused—“whackadoodle it might seem.”
When he turned from her, she darted back into his view. He groaned. She was as persistent as a buzzing honeybee.
“Then you need to help her,” she insisted.
“I need to do no such thing.”
“You mean, you’d just stand here and watch them do whatever they’re going to do to her? Like it’s nothing?”
Her words were like a stinging slap to his cheek. “I don’t think it’s nothing.”
“Who are you speaking to, young man?” the woman asked, frowning.
“No one,” he growled, his anger over his own powerlessness triggered by the mouthy spirit girl. “No one at all.”
“Nice,” Becca said, although her tone told him she meant anything but nice. “Ignore me. You can try, but I promise I’m not going anywhere. I will haunt you for the rest of my life if you don’t help her!”
The threat made him grimace.
In the center of the crowd, the girl screamed again as the guard yanked her hair.
“This foul witch,” the guard announced, loud enough for all to hear, “has shown rebellion and evil intentions against our great leader, Her Radiance, the Goddess of Earth and Water. Such a crime cannot be tolerated. It will not be tolerated. Her sentence is death.”
Maddox looked on, his fists tightly clenched at his sides.
“No, please!” the girl cried out. “I’m not a witch! I’d never do anything to challenge Her Radiance!”
She could easily be lying. And even if she wasn’t, Maddox couldn’t just freely roam about North Mytica, helping every wrongly accused witch he came across. Livius would never agree to that.
“Do something!” Becca yelled at him, right in his ear. “You need to help her!”
His cheek twitched.
He didn’t doubt Becca’s threat. She would haunt him forever.
The guard pulled his sword from its sheath, his expression impassive. He raised it above his head, ready to bring it down to end the witch’s life.
The guard then let out a harsh gasp and staggered back from the girl. He dropped the sword and clutched his throat, his face turning bright red in an instant. He tried to reach for his weapon as spittle flew out of his mouth and dripped down his chin as if he were choking on a piece of roasted goat meat.
The gathered crowd stared at the guard in shock.
“This is true magic,” the woman next to Maddox whispered in awe.
Yes, it certainly was.
“You did that,” Becca said, watching him with wonder. “You stopped him, didn’t you?”