Page 67 of Reap & Sow

“Right!” Robin stood up, looking nauseated. Old Bastard leaped down with a grumble. “Time to make way, I think.”

Eda bit her lip so she didn’t say something silly to him like Do your horns get in the way? and now she was thinking about horns and how they would, technically, make a rather convenient place to hold on to.

Kit stared as though he meant to swallow her whole.

Eda looked away. “I can help. These sorts of boats need multiple people to power them, don’t they?”

Robin’s eyebrow lifted. “How exactly do you think I got around before you two fools turned up?”

“Um…”

She wiggled her fingers in Eda’s face. “Enchantments are good for more than making coin, you know.”

They cut a steady path along the Embel as the sun began to set. The Oriana was deft for such a sizable barge, her twin hulls breaking cleanly through water that rippled like a cascade of broken glass beneath the gloaming.

The air was chilled. Still, Eda sat and watched as the lever controlling the waterwheels turned entirely under its own power, an invisible hand cranking it round.

Witchcraft, some might have whispered.

Alchemy, others would say.

She’d seen its work in numerous little ways. The silver swords of the Blades, the great bells of the templehouses that rang all by themselves every hour. Smaller, more secret things too: a traveling craftsman’s toy horse that actually neighed. The old woman at the end of their street who could cure nearly any ill. Magic was alive and well in Blackbridge, but outside of the Alchemists’ Cloister, it had long been relegated to the margins of society. Like a beggar, both seen and unseen while the world moved on around it.

Magic was power. Was that why she’d admired Mr. Night? Eda controlled so little of her own life, but for him, destiny was what he made of it. A creature for whom mirrors were doorways between worlds and shadows were worn as easily as cloaks.

Then she met Kit. Powerful, yes, but fallible too. When you take the magic away…how different are mortals and demons, really?

Voices rippled over rushing water. Eda stood, stiff with cold.

The Embel had opened onto a particularly wide stretch of river. Moored on each side were dozens of canal boats. Some were docked next to one another, up to four vessels deep. Upon the grassy banks, numerous standing torches had been erected. The very sky seemed to glow above a sea of firelight. Fatty smoke from a cooking pit rose into the night, shy stars peeking through like distant jewels. People gathered, laughing and carrying supplies.

The Oriana docked herself just beyond the glow of the outermost torch. Trees crowded the riverbank. Their browning limbs could not conceal the structures that rose beyond: a towering cluster of monolithic rocks, each as tall as a house. They were engraved with strange symbols lost to the erosion of time. Ivy had done its best to strangle the vaguely circular formation, but it would take more than wild vegetation to topple the Embel Morrowstones.

Eda had heard of them. She was only surprised that the Faithhood hadn’t yet destroyed the things. They were a testament to an age long past, when the Weslic people had worshipped a whole pantheon of gods instead of the Lordfather alone. A pantheon of demons, if what Kit claimed was true.

It seemed the riverfolk kept the old ways. Or perhaps they simply found this a convenient meeting point for autumn harvest festivities. It was once a pagan holiday, yet the Faithhood still marked the date with feasting and prayers. Guess you can pick and choose which bits of paganism to uphold if it means an excuse to get sloshed.

“Keep frowning like that and you’ll get wrinkles.” Robin approached her.

“I won’t live long enough for wrinkles.”

She’d meant it in jest, but Robin’s expression turned sour. “There are always loopholes, lamb. You know this.”

“Like what? Please, if there’s some way to get out of the two Pacts I’m entangled in, I’d like to hear it.”

“You know how. But you must be the one to do it.”

Eda swallowed. She did know. Kill Mr. Night. Kill Kit. “That’s easier said than done, isn’t it?”

“Easy, no. But possible.” When Eda said nothing to this, Robin continued in a soft voice, “Does it bother you, the thought of killing him? Even if it meant saving yourself?”

Eda looked at her sharply. “That’s not…It isn’t even worth considering. Mr. Night is far too powerful—”

“I speak of Kit’rath.” Robin’s expression was deceptively tranquil, nearly unnerving in its stillness. “He is fond of you. And you him. I can tell.”

Eda gawped at her.

“A word of advice from an old woman, lamb. Demons and humans have more in common than either might acknowledge, but our differences are legion. To surmount such odds requires…sacrifice.” She turned her face toward the river, a strange, melancholy look softening the lines about her eyes. “A heart is more valuable than any number of years, and harder still to get back. Be certain of the one you give yours to.”