“She’s a servant of Maribor,” one of the boys said. She could not tell which. “That’s why she can’t say. The gods never let them say.”
“Or she could be Kile—a god disguised and doing good deeds,” the other added. “I heard he gets feathers from Muriel’s cloak for each one he does.”
“Hush! She’ll hear you,” Lynnette scolded. “Go clean that pot.”
Arista fell asleep to their whispers and woke to loud voices.
“I told you, I don’t know what you’re talking about! I don’t know anything about a witch.” It was Brice’s voice, and he sounded frightened.
Arista peered out from the wagon. An imperial soldier stood holding a torch, his way blocked by Brice. Behind him, farther up the alley, other soldiers pounded on the door to the tannery and forced their way into the other tents.
“Sergeant,” the man in front of Brice called, “over here!”
Three soldiers walked fast, their armor jangling, hard boots hammering the cobblestone.
“Tear down this hovel and search it,” the sergeant ordered. “Continue to do the same for all these places. They’re an eyesore and should be removed anyway.”
“Leave them alone,” Arista said, stepping out of the wagon. “They haven’t done anything.”
“Ella!” Brice snapped. “Stay out of this.”
The sergeant moved briskly toward Arista, but Brice stepped in the way.
“Leave my daughter alone,” he threatened.
“Brice, no,” Arista whispered.
“I’m only here for the witch,” the soldier told them. “But if you insist, I’ll be happy to torch every tent in this alley.”
“She’s no witch!” Lynnette cried, clutching Wery to her side. “She saved my baby. She’s a servant of Maribor!”
The sergeant studied Arista briefly, sucking on his front teeth.
“Bind her!” he ordered.
Two of his men stepped forward with a length of rope and grabbed hold of Arista by her arms. They immediately cried out in pain, let go, and stumbled backward. Esrahaddon’s robe glowed a deep pulsating red. The guards glared at her in fear, shaking their injured hands.
Seeing her chance, Arista closed her eyes and began to concentrate. She focused on blocking out the sounds of the street and on—
Pain exploded across her face.
She fell backward to the ground, where she lay dazed. Her eyesight darkened at the edges. A ringing wailed in her ears.
“We’ll have none of that!” the sergeant declared.
She looked up through watery eyes, seeing him standing over her, rubbing his knuckles. He drew his sword and pointed it at Brice.
“I know better than to let you cast your spells, witch. Don’t make another sound, and remove that robe. Do it now! I’ll strip you naked if needed. Make no sudden moves or sounds, or I’ll cleave off this man’s head here and now.”
Lynnette was somewhere to her right, and Arista heard her gasp in horror.
“The robe. Take it off!”
Arista wiggled out of the robe, leaving herself clothed only in Lynnette’s thin kirtle. The sergeant sucked on his teeth again and stepped closer. “Are my men going to have any more trouble with you?” He lifted the point of his sword toward Brice once again.
Arista shook her head.
“Good. Bind her tightly. Wrap her wrists and fingers and find something to gag her with.” The guards approached again and jerked her arms so roughly behind her back that she cried out.
“Please don’t hurt her,” Lynnette begged. “She didn’t do anything wrong!”
They tied her wrists, wrapping the rope around her fingers, pulling until the skin pinched painfully. As they did, the sergeant ordered Lynnette to pick up the robe and hand it to him. One of the soldiers grabbed Arista by the hair, dragging her to her feet. Another took hold of one of her sleeves and ripped it off.
“Open yer mouth,” he ordered, pulling Arista’s head back. When she hesitated, the soldier slapped her across the face. Again she staggered, and might have fallen if not for the other guard, still holding her hair. The slap was not nearly as painful as the blow the sergeant had given, but it made her eyes water again. “Now open!”
He stuffed the material into her mouth, jamming it in so far Arista thought she would choke. He tied it in place by wrapping more rope around her head and wedging it between her lips. When they tied one final length around her neck, Arista feared they might hang her right there.
“Now, that should keep us safe,” declared the sergeant. “We’ll cut those hands off when we get to the palace, and after you’ve answered questions, I expect we’ll take that tongue as well.”