Witch Fall(63)

The trees’ buttress roots jutted up against the paths. Inside some of these natural alcoves, merchants had set up shops—some complete with canvas awnings. The stalls featured hand-dyed silk, copper cutlery, leather goods, shoes, food, and many other items.

“Pretty necklace for a pretty lady!” a merchant with a curling mustache called as they approached. From the tree house behind him, a witch began singing to pots arranged before her. The plants started growing, but so did all the other plants within the sound of her voice. Around the vendor, vines edged over his table of wares, shifting the jewelry.

A dangling earring caught on the beginnings of a leaf. The plant grew upward, taking the earring with it. The merchant snatched the earring just before it grew out of his reach. A fern edged around his clothes, feeler vines climbing up his mustache. He took out a pair of shears, and with a loud harrumph, he tugged the vine free and cut the plants back at the roots. In the process, he accidentally cut off part of his mustache. All around him, merchants were hacking plants down, but almost as quickly, the plants grew back.

Finally, the witch stopped singing. The frantic cutting slowed before merchants began straightening their wares and discarding cut bits of leaves from the tables.

“Does this happen often?” Lilette asked Jolin.

“A hazard of living with this many witches in one place.”

Once they began climbing the hill in earnest, Lilette found it difficult to keep up. Han studied her with obvious concern and asked her if she was all right.

She pressed the palm of her hand over her heart. “Perfect,” she gasped.

He stepped closer. “I can carry you.”

She shot him a glare. From in front of them, Jolin mumbled something under her breath about sardines and scowls.

“We’re not in a hurry,” Geth said to their guide.

Lilette hated that they had to slow down for her, but there was nothing she could do about it.

As they neared the top of the hill, the trees looked older—even ancient. The group crossed beneath a wicked-looking hedge covered in curved, cruel thorns the size of Lilette’s thumb. Tiny yellow flowers with red centers bloomed throughout, giving off a sweet, light fragrance.

Beyond them, along the perimeter, two rows of trees stretched as far as Lilette could see. She immediately recognized them—barrier trees. She stared up at them nervously as she and the others came within reach, but the trees didn’t move except to shift with the breeze.

At this elevation, Lilette could look back at the ramparts, and it suddenly occurred to her that it appeared much like a brazier filled with wood. “What about fire?” she asked.

Jolin waved her hand dismissively. “Fires have happened before. The witches simply call in a storm to dampen any flames. If anyone were ever foolish enough to attack us, we could grow thorns beneath their army’s feet so fast they would never even reach the ramparts.”

Lilette took a deep breath to calm the panic in her heart. “So the only way to fight the witches is with more witches. What’s to stop someone like the emperor from trying again—and this time succeeding?”

“We were placed here at the beginning of the world to keep and protect,” Jolin said. “What Emperor Nis did was an anomaly.”

The words did nothing to calm the foreboding in Lilette’s heart. “What happens when other countries realize how close the emperor came to succeeding? How easily the keepers can be subdued and forced to destroy an entire nation?”

Jolin shook her head. “It won’t happen. Stop worrying.”

“What if you’re wrong?” Lilette asked softly.

“Then the world will fall.”





Chapter 22



Lilette had the kind of beauty that men went to war over. Sometimes I hated her for it. ~Jolin



Lilette and her group were ushered into a raised pavilion. Climbing vines clung to the trellis and made a roof of leaves. Enormous potted plants were everywhere. Some held trees loaded with ripe fruit. Other pots overflowed with flowers that perfumed the air with their heady fragrance. Some pots held different kinds of herbs lined up in neat rows. In the background was singing. Not the dark, sharp-edged songs that turned Lilette’s stomach, but the gentle, growing songs that made the very air throb with life.

Keepers and guardians milled about, but they stopped what they were doing as Lilette and the rest of her group walked in. How ragged we must look, she thought. There had been no privacy aboard the ship, but she’d managed to wash her tunic and trousers and to scrub herself with a rag dampened with seawater. Without a comb, she’d simply run her fingers through her hair and braided it in the traditional fashion of the women of her village.