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puzzled look and shook her head.

  Sabine stopped by the door and turned back to Brenna. “I’m from Cottle Village in the shadow of the Seven Sisters, Mistress, in the north of Aruntun,” she said. “If you find yourself back home, come to Cottle. My family would be pleased to host you.” Then she was out the door.

  Brenna let out a shaky breath. She could still picture Sabine’s face, devoid of life. She hoped Sabine was wrong about this being a vision, wrong about her having Seer’s eyes. Brenna had never had anything like a vision before, why would it start now? But she’d never before had a knife glow when she touched it either. Was this ability tied up with Kane Rowse and the Brotherhood?

  “Why’d ye have to go and scare the poor lass like that,” Millen said. “And what right do ye have to tell her to go home?”

  Brenna looked up at him. She was still shaken by what she’d seen when she’d looked at Sabine. “No right at all Millen, no right at all.” But she fervently hoped the other woman did leave, at once.

  “Why’d ye do it, then?” Millen said. “Was it ’cause she was takin’ your healin’ trade?”

  Brenna shook her head and dropped her gaze to the table. She ignored Millen’s question and instead poured herself another mug of ale, trying to keep her hand from shaking. What was happening to her? And what might happen next?

  “Pah,” Millen said. “I never could figure why ye put up with her, Eryl.” Millen leaned back in his chair and the room fell silent.

  Brenna picked up her mug and sipped the now flat ale. She knew she should head home, but after her strange experience with Sabine, she just couldn’t face being alone right now. She didn’t want any of this - not the glowing old steel - not the attention of the church of the One-God - not the Brotherhood and the prophecy - and especially not visions of people dead and dying. She wanted her old life back. It had its own dangers, of course, but she knew those dangers, knew how to avoid them. If only she hadn’t agreed to steal that gods forsaken knife from the priest.

  A few hours later, just after midnight, a loud whisper and a swift knock on the door brought everyone to their feet. Millen and Larkly flanked the door as it opened to reveal one of the younger lads who had been in the room earlier.

  He stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. “Gotta get out,” the boy said. “The new healer’s been killed and the Guard’s on its way.”

  Brenna jumped up and grabbed the boy by the shoulders. “What do you mean, the new healer’s been killed? Where is she?”

  “The back room behind the bar.”

  Brenna yanked the door open and headed down the hallway, shouldering her way past fleeing patrons.

  The back room was chaos – some patrons huddled in a clump while others tried to edge their way towards the doors.

  In the middle of the crowd, Mistress Mundy knelt beside the young healer, her face solemn. “Brenna, over here. See if you can’t do something for the poor lass.”

  The two inn guardsman Brenna stepped past held an old man between them. He wore a rough cloak and ragged breeches and muttered to himself. Fresh blood on his cloak glistened in the candlelight. Something about him seemed odd but Brenna couldn’t spare the time to look more closely. She gave him a wide berth and knelt by Sabine.

  The knife, still in the girl, was buried all the way up to the hilt, just under her left rib. Brenna’s breath caught when she saw the bubbles of blood on the girls’ lips. Her lung was punctured, and deeply from the look of it.

  “It’s bad, isn’t it?” Sabine’s voice was a gurgling whisper.

  “I’m so sorry, Sabine. There’s nothing I can do. Do you want something for the pain?” Brenna felt tears prick her eyes as she watched the girl struggle for breath.

  “It doesn’t hurt much. I thought it would, but it doesn’t.” Brenna had to lean closer in order to hear her. “Please let my family know what’s become of me. They’ll worry so if they don’t get word.” Her sad smile turned into a grimace of pain. “They’re in Cottle, remember.”

  “I remember,” Brenna said. Tears trailed down her cheek and she wiped her eyes with her sleeve as Sabine’s breathing became more labored. Then the wheezing stopped and just like in her vision, Sabine’s face paled and the life faded from her eyes. Brenna brushed a hand across the dead girl’s face, closing her eyes.

  “She’s gone?” Mistress Mundy leaned over her.

  Brenna nodded and she felt the older woman’s hand on her shoulder.

  “Poor thing,” Mistress Mundy said. “She was a sweet lass, that one. I’m sorry, Brenna. I know you did what you could.”

  “But it wasn’t enough,” Brenna said. She should have made sure Sabine left the inn right away. Then she wouldn’t have had to watch the girl die.

  “Come on, love.” Mistress Mundy helped her up. “I think we both could use a good solid drink to warm us up.”

  Brenna let Mistress Mundy guide her away from Sabine’s body. As they moved past the prisoner he looked straight at Brenna.

  “A witch, another witch!” he yelled. “Death to all witches,” the priest said. “They work evil against the One-God!” The Guards jerked him back and his voice lowered to a mutter as Brenna and Mistress Mundy left the room.

  Again, something nagged at her, something about the way he looked or the smell of his breath, but she let Mistress Mundy steer her into the kitchen to a seat by the fire. She needed the warmth to ward off the sudden chill she felt.

  Brenna sipped her second brandy, welcoming the fuzziness it brought. She knew she shouldn’t drink any more - between the ale she’d shared with Eryl and the two brandies Mistress Mundy had poured her she was feeling the effects. The last thing she needed right now was to let her guard down, but she kept seeing Sabine’s face, her life fading from her, just like in her vision. Her hands trembled when she picked up her glass for another sip.

  seven

  Kane gently let the woman’s head settle back on the floor and stood up. It wasn’t her. He dragged a shaky hand across his eyes and exhaled. As the tension drained from his shoulders he looked back down at the young woman’s body. She had brown hair, brown eyes, and was apparently a healer. And Dasid’s report said Brenna had been seen inside this very tavern tonight. This poor woman’s death was more than a coincidence.

  “Do we know who she is?” he asked the Kingsguard. The man had been first on the scene and was the only other person in the room.

  “Not yet, Captain,” the guard said. “From what we know so far, she’d been in the city for only a few days.”

  “Do we know much of the one who knifed her?”

  “We haven’t been able to get any sense out of him. It’s peculiar. He had time to get away but didn’t. According to witnesses, once he knifed the girl he just stood over her and yelled – something about witches and the church - until the inn guards grabbed him. Apparently he quieted down until he saw the other healer, then he started up again. He’s been sent to a cell back in the keep.”

  “And the other healer, she’s safe?”

  The guard nodded. Kane closed his eyes, just for a moment, in relief. Thank the gods! He should have made Brenna come with him when he’d had the chance, should have forced her ... He shook his head - that would never work - he didn’t see how the prophecy could be fulfilled by force. But she could have been lost and it would have been his failure.

  “Is she still here?” Kane asked.

  “She’s in the kitchen with the owner of the inn.” The guard kept his voice low. “She tried to help the young lass but t’were too late by then.”

  “Thank you. We’ll need to do something about what the killer said.” Kane grimaced as he rubbed his tired eyes with his hand. “The last thing the city needs is a religious fanatic stirring things up. Officially we’ll say that the healer couldn’t cure his pox and he, half mad with disease, took it out on her,” Kane said. “Which way to the kitchen?”

  “Through the door on the other side of the bar and then to the back. T
he owner is a Mistress Mundy.”

  “All right. Let them in to clean up.” He turned and headed for the kitchen.

  Kane entered the kitchen of the Wheat Sheaf and looked around. He caught the eye of the inn guard, a retired Kingsguard, and nodded. The man had served under Uncle Feiren and was also a member of the Brotherhood. He could be trusted.

  Kane’s gaze swept past the guard to the large round table by the fire. Brenna was slumped over it, her hand curled around a half full glass. When she tilted her face, he could see his own fatigue mirrored there, etched in the lines around her eyes.

  “Kane?” Brenna said.

  She blinked up at him and he pulled up a chair beside her and sat down.

  “Right here, Brenna,” Kane said. “Are you hurt?” She shook her head and he felt his shoulders relax. He glanced away and met the gaze of a large woman in a white apron. She stood by a window on the other side of the kitchen, the wooden shutters closed and barred from the inside.

  “Mistress Mundy?”

  “That’s right.” Her eyes flicked from Kane to Brenna. “And this is my inn.” She crossed the room to stand by Brenna.

  “I am Captain Kane Rowse. We still need to ask some questions about what happened tonight.”

  The older woman, with a puzzled look that moved from Brenna to him, nodded. “Brenna is that fine with you?” Mistress Mundy asked. She reached down and squeezed Brenna’s shoulder.

  “Yes, let’s get it over