Witch Bewitched (New)

Chapter 54

Most of the next day had been spent with Royle dressing up as a commoner to glean information about the accident. It was absurd how easy it was to open them up when they didn't know he came from the purgehouse.

Still, the pieces evaded him. Royle had asked about the snakes and the bull, but there had been nothing suspicious anyone saw. The snakes had slithered out of broken boxes creating a blockade in the road. The boxes were simple wooden crates, most commonly used in the farmer's market, and according to witnesses, they had fallen off a reckless cart. No one knew who had been on the cart that day, and there were too many people in the business of transferring produce that Royle couldn't possibly track every single one of them to ask where they had gotten the boxes from. It certainly didn't help that the actual snakes were never found.

Most likely, their appearance and disappearance were controlled by a witch's spell. Whether they were real or illusions remained a mystery. Not that it really mattered because either option still wouldn't reveal who was behind the accident.

Royle had no better luck with finding the original owner of the bull. He had asked the cattle merchants, but once again, the influx of bulls in the market didn't help in narrowing anything down.

Even Avan, the driver Royle suspected had been bribed, had told him that he had taken the path because officers in the middle of patrol had offered to clear the road for his passing when they noticed the crowd in his way, and he had received nothing in exchange for it. Royle doubted Avan was lying, especially when the driver got genuinely upset at the allegations, even when Royle assured him he wouldn't be in any trouble.

With another day wasted, Royle had his spirits shattered. The promise he made to Misa hung over his head, becoming heavier with the prospect of failure. The third day since the incident was dedicated to Colvin and Taketh's funeral. The purgehouse had been somber that day, and Royle, as the captain, led the proceedings of carrying the coffins to the graves. He recited a few words of praise about the men, then Commander Walden took over.

It took another long speech and a few prayers before the graves were covered and the families and officers who attended the funeral could mingle. Royle had wanted to leave, but Commander Walden caught him just before he could slip away unnoticed. The large man gave Royle a comforting clap on the shoulder.

"It's been a wild few days, I imagine," the commander said, his deep voice booming from his chest. "You look exhausted, Captain. Why don't you take a break? It seems like you need it."

A break. Royle held in a sigh. The word sounded so beautiful, so surreal in his ears, and he was tempted to take a day off to keep to himself. To remember the men who had died while they had been working under him. But he couldn't. Every moment he spent without searching for answers would pull him further and further away from ever finding out what exactly happened that day. He needed to figure it out. He had to know how the trap had been set and why the witch had taken Leira. Every minute wasted could be another nail to the girl's coffin, and Royle didn't want any more death coming out of this incident.

"I'm fine," Royle said with a tight-lipped smile. "A break is the last thing I need right now. Thank you for your concern, Commander Walden."

Walden pursed his lips, his mustache quirking up. "Are you investigating the accident?"

Royle nodded. "I would like to wrap things up quickly, but I feel I must do a little bit of digging before I can make a formal report. I don't want to slack when the casualties included two officers."

"Royle," Walden said, attempting to wrap a beefy arm around Royle's shoulders despite being at least a head shorter. He settled for squeezing Royle's shoulder instead. "It was an accident. I understand it's difficult for you to have lost two good men in a task so menial, but there's nothing you can do about it."

Royle clenched his jaw but managed to keep his expression neutral. "Yes, I suppose. Then, I'll make a report as soon as I return to the purgehouse."

"Good, good. With tragedies like this, it's best not to dwell on them." Walden gave the graves a sympathetic glance. "Accidents happen, and it's always more painful when you realise how easy it was for them to lose their lives. It's common for people to suspect there was more. They look for someone to blame because it's difficult to accept that a simple coincidence cost them their loved ones. It makes it easier, I suppose, to give a reason for their deaths."

Royle shrugged. He didn't plan to let the commander know he would continue the investigation even after he submitted a report. What he needed to know had little to do with the interests of the purgehouse, and he knew Walden would not be pleased if he found that Royle was acting on his own agenda.

"Good luck, Captain."

With a nod, Royle left the cemetery, ready to continue his search for answers.

* * * *

Royle lowered the wooden mug on the counter, causing a few drops of beer to splutter. The bar was filled to the brim with patrons and, as he'd suspected, conversations about the accident. It had been detailed in the papers for three days straight, and rumours and outlandish theories had started up. A place as chaotic and rowdy as a bar was the perfect place for Royle to eavesdrop for information he might not already know.

The problem was discerning what was fact and what had been made up to dramatise the incident. Most conversations revolved around the bull and Colvin, and it twisted Royle's gut to hear how excited some people were to retell the officer's death with added details that made the tale more horrifying.

"He was gutted like a fish, turned inside out! I swear, his guts were all around the beast. It's the truth!"

"And the blood turned the bull's eyes red! It was a spawn from the deepest pits of hell, I tell you. I'd wager a witch let something evil into it."

"A little one almost got caught in it, too. Lucky lad got pulled away last second."

Little one. They meant 'boy.' Misa. Royle bristled and took another swig of his beer.

"So," the barkeep said to Royle, leaning over the counter. "Got any storìes? I'm tired of hearing all about that bull and purger gettin' gored."

"Why? I find it interesting." Royle kept his voice low, ears still straining for any new information. If they didn't stop talking about Colvin soon, he would have to start asking for details about everything else. "Were you there when it happened?"

The barkeep shook his head. "Oh, naw. Everthin' I know is just from all the stories. Don't even know which version to believe, I tell you what."

Royle raised a brow. "So, you know anything else other than the bull? Like about the snakes, perhaps?"

"Snakes?" The barkeep frowned. "I haven't heard anything about snakes."

Someone, having caught the barkeep's words, shouted. "Oh, yeah. There were giant snakes too, weren't there? Who in their right mind transports snakes through the city? Some people are out of their mind."

Royle turned to the young man who spoke. "You were there?"

"Yup." His shaggy brown hair covered half his eyes. "And I saw it clear as day. Every detail, I tell ya."

Royle feigned nonchalance. "Yeah? So, you know what happened other than a bull ramming into an officer?"

The man nodded, his hair bobbing wildly. "Sure, do."

"Why don't you tell me? From the beginning?" Royle slipped a string of loncs on the counter. "I'll buy you a drink over it."

The man's eyes lit up. "Sure thing." He gave the barkeep an order, and after receiving his drink, he began.

"So, I was starting my day with my gramma, you see, and she's a little old lady. An old lady can't do much at all. But my gramma, an old bag of bones as she is, always insists on getting out into the streets for some fresh herbs Fermey sells in her shop. An' let me tell you, Fermey, she's a pretty little thing, with the biggest, greenest doe-eyes I've ever seen, and golden hair as soft as silk. I smelled it once, and it reminded me of roses, but don't you go telling anybody that. Fermey doesn't like anyone sniffing her hair. She says boys in her culture don't do it, and she only likes boys from her culture. But, hey, a man's gotta try. So, I offered to be the good grandson that I am and get the herbs for my gramma."

"The accident," Royle reminded the boy, keeping his irritation in check. "Tell me about the accident."

"Right, right." He rolled his eyes. "Sheesh, you're no fun at all."

Royle stiffened. "You saw the accident happen. Did you see where the snakes came from?"

"Snakes." He pursed his lips in thought. "Oh, yeah. From that rude cart that almost ran me over. Saw it speeding by the purgehouse carriage and thought the purgers would have given chase. But no." He huffed. "Instead, I get shoved away from the road as if it's my fault."

"It almost ran you over?"

"Yeah, yeah." He ran his hand through his hair. "Some old man steering a horse. Seemed strange to me. Who ties a horse to a produce cart? They're too fast and better for that. Horses pull carriages, not small carts with loose boxes. Carts are a donkey's job. Or a cow's. Slower, more grounded, you know? Keeps the products in the cart. Guess he was excited 'bout showing it off to everyone. He was saddleback too, not on the cart."

He paused to take a swig of his drink. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Point is, he was a mean old arse with nothin' but farts and shits coming out of the wrong hole. Swore at me from his high horse when he ran into me."

A horse pulling a cart? Royle rubbed his temple. Had there been so many strange elements before the accident that he had missed?

"The snakes," Royle prodded.

"Gettin' there." He finished his drink before he continued. "So, after he's pushed past me, swearing and actin' like he's all high and mighty, he crosses the road, an' some boxes fall off. I laughed, of course. Bastard probably got a whipping for that."

Royle doubted it.

"The boxes broke the minute they hit the ground, and suddenly these large snakes slither right out before you could blink. Never seen anything like it. Lots of strange things happened that day, huh?"

Royle could fill it in from there. The horses panicking, the bull charging. He let the man finish his story anyway.

"So, I hear a bunch of screaming. People scared of snakes and all that. These purgers walkin' the streets are yellin' at everyone, 'get out of the road! out of the road!' and pushing us away so carriages can go through. Morons didn't even think about the boxes getting in the way. Well, I try to tell them about the snakes, but before I can even get a peep at them, I see the horses going mad, a guy sticking out, then bam! The bull rams right into him, sticking its horn through him. I swear, it was aiming for him. Whatever he did to make the bull mad, he musta really messed up."

"That's all? Do you know anything about the bull?"

The man shrugged. "Eh, I dunno. I was focused on the body sticking out its horn. Good thing they burned it, though. Don't need its evil sticking around the streets."

"Of course." Royle flicked his loncs across the counter, and the man slapped over it.

"I appreciate the drink." Tossing the coins to the barkeep, the man shot Royle a smile and took his leave.

Royle sighed. He needed a moment to process all he had learned, to organize his thoughts into something at least a little cohesive before he could put it together. At least, he had gotten another piece of the puzzle, even though it left him with more questions than answers.

"Room to join?" A light, feathery voice whispered in Royle's ear. He jolted, instinctively reaching behind him even though he hadn't brought his pistol.

A small woman sat next to him with a slight giggle at his expression. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

Suspicion took hold. Royle managed to keep his expression impassive. "Do I know you?"

She grinned, her teeth white against her ruby lips, and batted her long lashes. It was strange seeing such womanly features in someone the size of a child. "No, I doubt you do. But, I heard everything between you and Tirmin. Why such an interest? Aren't you tired of hearing about it?"

Royle shrugged. "It's everywhere. I hear it in the streets, read it in the papers. I suppose it piqued my curiosity."

"You know," she leaned in closer. Closer than Royle would have liked. "I heard a witch was behind it all."

Royle tried not to let anything slip. He sipped his beer. "Is that so?"

She shrugged. "It's what I heard. But, if you're not interested, we could always change the subject."

"Not at all." Royle maintained his nonchalance even as his heart began to accelerate. "Tell me, what makes you think a witch caused the accident?"

She tucked her red-brown hair behind her ear, and a sly smile stretched across her lips. "Why don't we speak in private? I can tell you everything I know." She touched his knee, and Royle froze when he felt a familiar buzz.

He looked away. Two could play that game. He tapped deep inside himself, to the small ball of energy tucked away from the world. It was by no means anything powerful, but it had given him an advantage on more than one occasion. A small touch had the magic spreading through his being, sheening his skin like a protective coat against the magic escaping the woman's fingertips.

She chanted something under her breath, so quiet that no one would have heard her words. A bewitchment spell, from the feel of it, which meant Royle knew for certain, at least, that bewitchment was not her signature spell.

"Come with me," she coaxed when her magic was wound tightly around him. "Everything you want to know about the accident, I can tell you."

Royle began his act. With a smile, he touched her hand. It was soft, small, and yet, it was nothing like Misa's. "Of course. Show me the way."

She let out a sigh of relief, and her act dropped just a little under the belief that she had him wrapped around her finger. "Come along, then."

Royle followed her lead, down the darkened streets until they reached a grungy old tavern that lay in the worst part of the city. It seemed she had been staying there for however long she'd been in Giligha, and he suspected she was the cause of the accident. It took everything in him to hold back from taking her captive before she could try anything. But, he had to know where Leira was, and he knew witches weren't dumb enough to keep their hostages where they slept.

Once they reached the private room, Royle pinned her to the wall.

"Eager, are we?" She snickered. "Unfortunately, I have no interest in that."

Royle let his mask slip. "Neither do I." He had the satisfaction of watching her eyes widen in surprise. "Now, tell me. Were you behind the accident?"

"W-what?" Her brows knitted in concentration, and Royle felt the prod of her magic against his. "How is this...How did you...?"

"Answer the question before I turn you in to the purgehouse right now."

She glared at him, something rising within her at the mention of the purgehouse. "Not so fast."

Royle felt something sharp against his side. He dared to look away from her for a split second to see a knife glinting against him.

"You took me by surprise, I'll give you that," she said, her lips pressing into a thin line, "but that doesn't mean I wasn't prepared."

"What do you want?" Royle gritted out. He wished he had the security of his pistol, though it would have been useless strapped behind him anyway.

"I know you're from the purgehouse, and you've been poking around way too much for my liking."

Royle clenched his jaw. "So what? Are you going to silence me?"

"No." With a sigh, she removed the knife from him, but still kept it in her hand. "I'm not risking that. Two purgers have died already, and it's only luck that it's been ruled an accident."

"Luck?" Royle felt something explode in him. "You think it's luck that two officers died from a trap you set up?"

"They weren't supposed to die." She let out a shuddering breath. "I planned it so no one would get hurt. If they had just stayed in the carriage, if that boy hadn't made such a ruckus and got out, that officer might not have died."

"What are you talking about?" Royle tightened his grip on her arm. "A bull was going to ram into us. An officer died when the carriage tipped over because he'd been crushed."

"That was something I didn't take into account. I never expected he would stick his body out the window. If every one of you just stayed inside, no one would have died. They didn't have to die. The bull's only job was to tip the carriage over, not pierce a man."

She grabbed his wrists, the hilt of her knife pressing down on his left. "Look, I just wanted to get you off our trail and be on my way. I was going to bewitch you into stopping the investigation, but it seems such spells won't work. So, how about a bargain?"

"The girl," Royle said, releasing his hold and shaking her off. "If you return the girl, I'll let it go."

She rubbed her forehead. "That's not possible. Anything other than that."

"Where is the girl? What have you done to her?"

"I'll give you a bargain. Fortune beyond your wildest dreams, a love potion, anything. Name your price and leave us be."

"The. Girl. Why did you take her? Did Nisha command it?"

She stiffened. "How do you know Nisha?"

"Answer the question. Why did you take her?"

The witch shrugged. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to let you know. There were rumours of a witch in the purgehouse. My sister and I came to see if it was true, and when we heard a girl had been caught dressed up as a purger, we hatched a plan to rescue her. We refuse, even if the witch betrayed our kind by joining the enemy, to let another one of us die at your hands. Better to put our own judgement upon her."

Royle sucked in a breath. "Then tell me this: Did Nisha tell you to take her?"

"It was her idea, yes." The witch crossed her arms. "But I came up with the plan to save her. Nisha had nothing to do with it."

"Where is she?"

"There's no point in looking. My sister already took her to Nisha. I only stayed behind to make sure there were no loose ends. So, will you stop your investigations?"

Royle took a step back, running a hand through his hair. "Fine."

"Good." She smiled. "And do remember, if I find out that you still snooped around after this warning, I will make sure you never work in the purgehouse again."

"I advise you to leave Giligha," Royle said, stepping to the door. "It is no place for a witch."

"I know. Tika never liked witches in her city. I plan to leave when the sun rises."

Royle exited the room, his heart pounding with every step he took to get away from the tavern. His thoughts had turned into a jumbled mess, as if someone had plucked them from the shelf and threw them haphazardly into a basket.

And in all that chaos, only one thought screamed at him, striking a terror so thick and putrid that he was sure the witch could smell it even from her musty room in the tavern.

It wasn't Leira they were after.

It was Misa.