Treacherous Witch

4. Negotiation

"I'm overwhelmed with it, my lord."

She was sure that he didn't miss the sarcasm, but he chose to ignore it.

"But," he continued, "that's not the real reason you're here. It so happens that I have a task to perform that can only be done by a sorceress. Help me perform it, and I won't have you burned at the stake."

She did her best to look surprised. "What task?"

"What task, my lord. Your companion called you Val. Is that your name, Val?"

Was there any point in hiding it? He must have heard it already from Lord Gideon.

"Valerie," she answered, and then a second too late added, "my lord."

"Valerie." He said it with a certain satisfaction. "And your family name?"

She said nothing.

"How long have you been a member of the resistance?"

"I thought you wanted proof of my sorcery, my lord."

Avon raised his eyebrows. After a moment, he walked over to ring a bell on the wall. Within seconds, a manservant entered pushing a trolley table. On the table's metallic surface were an array of objects, but her eyes were drawn to one: a sword. Valerie was no expert in swords, so she couldn't say whether this was a well-made weapon, but she knew one thing: it held power. A faint light emanated from it, a magical pulse.

"These ten objects," Avon began.

"The sword," she interrupted before he could explain, and he blinked at her. She hadn't even looked at the other items—they ranged from a silver goblet to a pair of boots. All mundane. "The sword has power, my lord. Shall I tell you what it does?"

He nodded, impressed. She needed to touch it to learn more, so she approached the trolley and laid her hand on the hilt. The manservant almost stopped her, but Avon shook his head.

"It's... powerful," she said in some surprise. She hadn't expected that with its faint aura, but the magic in the blade was potent. She had only encountered one other object more powerful than this before, and that had been one of the crown jewels, Prince Bakra's most prized possession. "A curse-breaker. It can protect against any harmful magic... I think it could even cut a magical entity. Is this from the palace vault?"

"No," said Avon. "That sword belongs to me." Her eyes went wide and he explained: "It was given to me by my grandfather, who was an ambassador to Maskamere."

Valerie contemplated this as the servant departed with the ten items on the trolley. Avon's family had history in Maskamere. She hadn't known that, nor had she expected him to be in possession of a magical object when his own laws forbade it.

"Let me show you one more thing."

He held out his hand. His fingers were long, and he wore a silver ring on his middle finger that she felt sure was significant in Drakon, but she couldn't recall what that significance might be.

She stepped past him instead, clasping her hands in front of her. He took her meaning and let his hand drop, turning away to show her into the next room.

"The royal bedchamber," Avon said as she stepped inside. "A bed for a king."

It looked like it. Posts and headboard carved in—she almost gasped—the wood of a silvertree, while the bed covers themselves were red and gold silk. Curtains fluttered in the breeze from the open window, casting an amber light over the entire chamber.

"You recognise it?" He ran his hand over one of the posts, carved with roses growing from root to stem.

She nodded mutely.