The Black Flame Witch (2)
The elf's bright red eyes held me like a snake holds its prey.
Perhaps it was my imagination, but the air around us seemed to grow colder.
I felt like a frog that had blundered into the path of a hungry predator.
What can I possibly say to survive this?
Before I found an answer, she spoke again.
“Master… How long have you been here?”
Don't panic. Stay calm.
I cleared my throat.
“Not very long. About thirty minutes, I think.”
“Thirty minutes… What have you heard?”
“What do you mean?”
I truly didn't understand.
The elf stared at me with a strange, almost anxious intensity.
“Don't pretend you don't know. I may have talked in my sleep. It happens when I have nightmares.”
“Yes. You did say a little in your sleep.”
“Then tell me what I said.”
“Only that I shouldn't go away. Apart from that, you groaned with the fever. I swear.”
“You swear…?”
The elf released a long, unsteady breath.
The chill around us seemed to disappear.
So I survived that question.
But she still looked ill.
Ordinarily she would have sat up at once and demanded that I insult her. Now she lay gazing at the ceiling through half-open eyes, opening her mouth to draw each breath.
Whatever I thought of her conduct, hating what she'd done was not the same as wishing her to suffer. I couldn't look at her lying there and feel nothing.
I found myself speaking more gently.
“Did you have a nightmare?”
She glanced at me and gave the smallest nod.
“What could you have dreamed that left you in such a state?”
“If we're being exact, Master, that's not what happened.”
“What?”
“It was terrible, but it wasn't a dream. It was only a memory. Sometimes… memories from my earliest years up to the present return all at once, along with everything I felt when they happened.”
Her voice was soft and distant, as though sleep still clung to it. Yet the words were clear.
I didn't quite know what to make of them.
She seemed to be talking more to herself than to me.
“I wish I could forget things the way humans do…”
She gave a bitter little smile and closed her eyes.
Talking seemed to have eased her breathing. Perhaps she was finally ready to sleep.
I began to withdraw my hand.
Her fingers caught the back of it, held it briefly, then slipped away.
For a moment I simply stared.
Then I remembered myself.
“Hmph. You really do talk nonsense. Go back to sleep. I'll be on my way.”
She didn't answer. Her breathing was already becoming steady.
I took that as permission to leave.
Outside the room, Havid was pacing at the far end of the corridor. When he noticed me, he came forward quickly, his face brightening.
“My lord! I've been looking for you!”
“For me?”
“Yes. Two witches have come from Weaving Turbulence Academy.”
That was the witches' training academy, wasn't it?
Why would its people visit my house?
“Did you ask what they want?”
“I did. But they said they would explain directly to the head of the household.”
“How many visitors?”
“Two, my lord. A professor and a student. They're waiting in the drawing room. Shall I take you there?”
The academy stood in the west of the Empire. Flying all the way to this central region couldn't have been an easy journey, even for witches.
It would have been discourteous to make them wait longer.
“Very well. Let's go.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Havid bowed and led the way.
We soon reached the drawing room.
“The noble Viscount Theorad Deharem, esteemed head of House Deharem and trusted vassal of His Excellency Count Leonberg, has arrived!”
I hadn't requested an announcement like that.
Havid opened the door with a flourish.
I suspected he wanted the visiting witches to understand that they couldn't speak to me as though my rank meant nothing.
His concern was kindly meant, if rather embarrassing.
I cleared my throat and entered.
Two witches were sitting at the table enjoying refreshments.
They really don't seem to age…
One was supposed to be a professor, the other a student, but they appeared almost the same age.
I made a tentative guess based on their behavior.
The woman with long, wavy hair was sipping tea quietly. The short-haired girl next to her could hardly stop talking.
The lively one must be the student.
The witch with wavy hair noticed me approach and put down her cup.
“Ah. Lord Theorad.”
She rose and bowed with surprising politeness.
“I'm Luikus, a senior professor at Weaving Turbulence Academy. This is my student.”
The girl with the light-brown bob stood and bowed a little. Her blue eyes shone with curiosity.
“Hello! I'm Pares, a student at Weaving Turbulence! Oh—you're handsome!”
The compliment caught me completely off guard.
Luikus gave Pares a quick slap on the side, then cleared her throat.
“Forgive us for coming without notice. I hope you'll excuse the discourtesy.”
“It's all right. Though I must admit I'm surprised by how respectful you both are.”
“Surprised? Is there something odd about treating another person with respect?”
“Dremes told me witches never bow to humans.”
Luikus smiled.
“Refusing to abase ourselves isn't the same as refusing courtesy. Dremes is the head of the Dokwol Guild. Perhaps she spoke more bluntly to you than was appropriate.”
She paused.
“What I find more surprising is that you're acquainted with her. She particularly dislikes humans.”
“…I'd rather not explain.”
What was I supposed to say? That we'd become acquainted through the purchase of adult goods?
Luikus didn't press.
“Of course. May I explain why we've come?”
“Please.”
“Rumors have recently spread that the Black Flame Witch has returned. The Association has asked me to look again into the Deharem mansion, where she was reportedly last seen.”
The Black Flame Witch?
She was practically a legend among witches, and even human mages spoke of her with awe.
To think someone so famous might once have visited my house…
“Is that really true?”
“As far as we know. About eighteen years ago, perhaps. Do you remember anything?”
“Eighteen years ago? I was around five then. I can't recall a visit like that, however hard I try.”
“Childhood memories fade easily. In that case, may I search around the mansion? We won't cause trouble for you.”
“Of course. If she truly has returned, I understand why you'd want to find her. I'll help however I can.”
Luikus looked mildly surprised by my ready consent.
Then she inclined her head.
“Thank you. I'll report your cooperation to the Association. While I investigate, would you be willing to answer a few questions for Pares?”
A questionnaire?
There was no reason to refuse.
“Certainly.”
“How accommodating. Thank you once again.”
Luikus turned and left.
Pares and I were alone.
Her expectant gaze made me uncomfortable. After an awkward pause, I gestured toward a chair.
“Please sit.”
“Ah! Yes!”
Pares dropped into her chair, and I sat opposite her.
I wondered what she could possibly ask. I knew almost nothing about the Black Flame Witch.
Pares hugged her enormous pointed hat close and looked at me with shining eyes.
“Viscount Theorad… Do you know about the Black Flame Witch?”
“A little. Not nearly as much as you, I imagine.”
“Really? You know her? She's so strong and clever and firm in her convictions! I've even seen her magic myself. And those extraordinary spear-like attacks—”
“Slow down a little.”
“She was incredible during the war. The Church even called her the Black Devil! Can you imagine how powerful she must have been to frighten them that much? And then… oh, there was something else. Let me think!”
Somehow, this isn't going the way a questionnaire should.
After Theorad had left her room, the elf slept for a short while before climbing out of bed.
She still felt unwell, but perhaps moving about would be better than lying there.
She yawned, stretched and pulled on her maid's uniform.
Then she headed toward the drawing room.
When she was stressed, she often craved something sweet. She had thought of quietly taking some of the expensive chocolate Theorad had bought.
She greeted the servants she passed, then stopped outside the drawing room.
Someone was speaking with Theorad.
And that someone was Pares—the witch the elf had met in the mountains of Baron Brenu in the western Empire.
Why is she here?
The elf had no desire to meet her again.
She was about to give up on the chocolate and turn away when Pares's excited voice reached her.
“You really know the Black Flame Witch?”
The elf stopped.
She leaned against the doorway and listened.
Pares continued with cheerful confidence.
“There's a technique called Gwangpung Black Spear! It goes whoosh, like a great wind, and then a black spear goes bang! The whole earth seems to shake! I saw it myself. It was amazing!”
Heat rose to the elf's pointed ears.
The grandiose name was ridiculous. Hearing Pares describe that magic to Theorad made her want to disappear.
“I'll tell you a secret,” Pares went on. “They say the Black Flame Witch shouts the technique's name aloud when she uses it: ‘Gwangpung Black Spear!’ I didn't hear it myself in the mountains, but I'm certain it's true.”
The elf gripped the hem of her skirt.
Her embarrassment was turning into anger.
“Think about it. If she didn't shout the name, how would anyone have known to call it the Gwangpung Black Slaughter Spear for twenty years?”
The elf bit her lip. Her shoulders trembled.
You… I'll kill you for this.
She hated Pares very, very much for the nonsense she was telling Theorad.