This Poisoned Tide: The Last Water Witch Book One

CHAPTER 5

'You seem rattled, Roth. What ails you? You should leave the confines of your study more. I think the dust as addled your mind.'

Roth pressed his knuckles into the wood and stood up, his huge bulk suddenly making the room seem far smaller. He leant forward, the light from his desk lantern reflecting off the silver streaks in the braids that lined either side of his head. 'What addles me is you, Juda. You dare mention Lord Dageor's name like it is as insignificant as the names of the whores you lay with in Grimefell? He is a High Priest of the Druvari.'

Juda arched a single brow. 'I am well aware of who he is. And anyway, you are wrong. My ladies of Grimefell are far from insignificant. They hold a very dear place in my heart.'

'You and I both know that your heart rots in the dead fields, boy. The only place you hold those women is against your côck.'

'Then it is a mighty fine place for them to be, for they are as happy for it as they are for the coin I give them for their time.' Juda sighed and unhooked his leg from the arm of the chair, so he could return to the bookcase and place the tome back where he had found it.

Roth shook his head, watching his ward as he gave the book one last wistful look.

When he turned to face Vi-Garran once more, the curious boy was gone and in his place was the man he had become – all sharpened bone and unforgiving flesh, who surveyed the world with a coldness that verged on cruelty. Roth could only blame himself. He'd moulded Juda Vikaris in his own image, conditioned his heart and soul for one purpose, taken the boy's desire for revenge and twisted it between his hands until he'd constructed the perfect weapon.

'They found Luca Zar-Kuron washed up on the shore of the Setalah. Someone had tossed him into the water.'

'The missing novice!' Roth's eyes shone. 'But, how?'

'I care not,' Juda replied. 'He is dead, as is Terrick Bo-Dreven. Lord Dageor witnessed his final breath be ripped from his body, by my hand.'

'The shipmaster's son?' Roth couldn't help but be impressed. And glad for it. One less noble's son was always a blessing. 'If Dageor was called as spectator, then surely The Grim has earmarked you for advancement. Juda, this is fine news, indeed.'

Juda scowled. 'Well, it would be if Dageor wasn't seeking a connection between me and the two dead novices.'

'He suspects you?'

'In truth, I know not, but he is asking difficult questions of The Grim and has demanded he present Zar-Kuron's murderer to the King within five moontides.' Juda stepped closer, the lantern light brightening his eyes amidst the black streak of oil slashed across his face. 'And he was asking questions of you, Roth, more specifically how you came to sponsor an orphan-brat such as myself. The Grim told him the story of how it all came to be, but I am not certain if Dageor was satisfied. He may come in search of you.'

Roth bared his teeth and growled. 'Let the bastard come. That man has not been satisfied since he gave leave of his mother's tit. I'll send him back to his black temple pissing in his britches.'

'Be mindful, Roth. As joyful as that image might be, we need him, as you well know. We are close now.'

The guardian grinned and scratched at his beard. 'That we are, boy.' He grabbed the lantern from the desk. 'Which is why we must make use of what little time we have and get back to work. Come now.'

Leading the way, Roth stalked through the narrow passages, the lantern held aloft in front and Juda Vikaris at his back. The tower was a maze of winding gangways, gloom-drenched nooks, and neck-breaking staircases, some barely wide enough to manage the imposing form of Vi-Garran. Meet someone along the way and they would have to return to the closest recess to wait until the other passed, which meant this part of the journey could be the most precarious, should they encounter anyone who might wonder why a novice of the Order was away from his quarters and in the company of the Master Librarian.