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Prologue {Part Two}: The Shadow of Zarus
“This one is a cripple,” Madam Cricket stated bluntly, standing at a safe distance to their left. After locating the divine spark, Tarlay had summoned the slaver using a bell left hanging in the middle of the slave arena. “Came from the Hawthorne Household, which is why I purchased him at full price despite his mangled condition. An overly generous investment, but it never hurts to be in the good graces of someone as powerful as the Earl of Hawthorne.”
Vanya glanced from the nervously prattling woman to Tarlay. The senior witch hunter looked calm, whereas Vanya had hardly overcome her shock.
‘To think that a descendant of a Saint was beaten to this extent and locked up like an animal?’
Then again, since all of Pope Ivan’s heirs had died—except Pope Jericho—that made this descendant—illegitimate? Or perhaps a distant relative?
‘He must be at least two or three branches removed for his divinity to be this weak. Even standing this close, I probably wouldn’t have noticed him if it weren’t for these gloves.’
Madam Cricket moved closer to the cage and kicked the bars with her steel-toed boot. “Wake up, Slave! Go on. Onto your feet! Move lively now unless you want to be sold off to the pagans with the rest of these useless scum.”
Vanya gritted her teeth at the woman’s blatant threat but remained still. Now more than ever, she needed to wait for Tarlay’s signal, though her mentor would hardly show any remorse over the death of a few slave traders.
The slave stood up slowly and turned to face them. His face wore an expression of numb disinterest. His ebony-brown eyes, suntanned skin, and dirty brown hair were hardly indicative of his heritage.
‘Definitely a distant relation.’ Vanya frowned as the slave kept his gaze focused on the ground at his feet. ‘Why is he hunched over like that? Is he afraid?’
“A previous owner lashed him up pretty good,” Madam Cricket explained hesitantly. “The boy probably would have died if the Earl hadn’t gone out of his way to pay for a physician and medicine. A waste of effort if you ask me. Why would a noble waste coin on a broken slave when they could just as easily buy a new one?” She spat at the ground contemptuously. “Anyway, the nerves in his back are far too damaged for him to stand up straight, so he’s a bit of an eyesore. It seems that’s why the Earl finally got rid of him. Probably won’t last long doing hard labor—or much else for that matter—aside from breeding if his looks interest you.”
The corner of the slave’s mouth twisted as a glimmer of disgust surfaced on his blank face.
“What’s his name?” Vanya asked abruptly, forgetting her earlier plan to be silent.
Madam Cricket tilted her head to the side and flicked a flat piece of wood tied to the cage’s bars with a few words written in the Lafearian language. “Looks like he went by the name Gus.”
The heavy thud of coins on the ground drew three pairs of eyes to the purse that Tarlay had tossed to Madam Cricket’s feet. The slaver hastily bent to loosen the string and gasped at the three chains of crescents inside. “This—i-is far more than he’s worth,” Cricket protested in a ghostly voice husky with fear. “I’d have gotten maybe twenty crescents for him from the pagans.”
A troubled look crossed Gus’s face before his gaze returned to the pair of shoes that he wore, which, like his trousers, were far from suitable for a slave’s feet. Vanya frowned as she shifted her gaze to Tarlay questioningly.
Vanya already knew that Pope Ivan had an older sister and younger brother. After Ivan had been chosen as his father’s heir and received Ramiel’s blessing, his siblings moved out of the Holy Palace to live their lives privately. As far as the Witch Hunter Order knew, Lady Melissa and Lord Steven were hunted down and executed the same day as the traitor’s rebellion and Emperor Arius’s invasion.
‘Why would Ripper or the Pope bother with such a muted spark? Can he even wield a divine weapon?’
“Fetch me his papers and the best garments you have that will fit him,” Tarlay said with an affirming nod at the silent slave that stood before them.
“I—of course! Just a moment,” Madam Cricket hastily replied and tightened her grip around the purse of coins clutched to her chest. Vanya watched the slaver scurry back towards the same door at their right and let out a worried sigh.
“Look at me, boy.”
Tarlay’s cold command pulled Vanya’s attention back to Gus. The slave stiffened but turned his neck to meet the witch-hunter’s green eyes.
“Your previous Master was the Earl of Hawthorne?” Tarlay questioned curiously.
Gus gave a single, reluctant nod.
“Then—were you familiar with a half-blood who goes by the name of Lady Maura?”
The purified air around them grew suddenly stagnant. Vanya frowned as she studied the arena cautiously, then refocused on the slave. ‘Had he—grown taller?’
Gus’s dark ebony eyes flashed with resentment, uncertainty, and even fear. “What—do you want with Lady Maura?”
Tarlay remained quiet while a satisfied smile spread across her lips.
Gus took a step towards the bars of his cage. Then he glanced in the direction the slaver had gone before whispering, “Are you—witch hunters?”
Vanya was surprised by the hopeful tone of his question. The only mortals who ever received her kind in a welcoming manner were those seeking to be free of a powerful witch. ‘It would appear the rumors about Lady Maura are accurate.’
Tarlay chuckled as she ran a hand down the braids that draped over her left shoulder. “I suspect you will have a lot of useful information to share with us. Master Gus.”
The slave flinched and scowled at her with wary confusion.
Tarlay turned to Vanya with a smirk and nodded to her apprentice. “That mortal is taking her time. Why don’t you set our new friend free?”
Vanya blinked but quickly nodded and grinned as she stepped towards the cage. Gus backed away and watched with a questioning scowl as the witch hunter focused her violet-blue eyes on two bars close together. She gripped them tightly, focusing on the alexandrite gemstones in her gloves that flashed a vibrant green as the enchantments doubled her already unnatural strength.
The metal bars twisted and bowed beneath the witch hunter’s earth magic with an agonized groan and ear-splitting creak. Once the opening was large enough for the slave to pass through easily, Vanya unclenched her grip and stepped back.
Gus didn’t move. Instead, his eyes shifted between them in stunned disbelief.
“We will not harm you,” Tarlay said as she unhooked a flask of water from her belt. “Here, you must be thirsty.”
Vanya watched the indecisive slave as Gus clenched his brows together in confusion. “It's not easy to trust two strangers that you’ve just met who treat you better than anyone ever has,” she murmured with empathy.
Gus’s ebony eyes narrowed as they shifted to her curiously.
Vanya hesitated, then slowly pushed back the weighted bangles on her arms to reveal the faded but still visible scars on her wrists. She watched understanding blossom behind his dark eyes as the slave’s wary expression softened.
“If you want to remain a slave, then stay where you are,” Tarlay interrupted curtly. “If you want to live as a free man—” she offered the flask once more, “—then trust us. There is much we can offer each other.”
Gus glanced at Vanya, who gave him an encouraging nod. She smiled as he took the first step forward and then exhaled with relief as he stepped through the bars.
Vanya wasn’t sure if she imagined it, but—for a moment at least—he seemed to stand taller.
‘Perhaps his back wasn’t as damaged as it appears?’
“What—” Madam Cricket choked out a protest as she took in the twisted bars of the cage.
“Vanya, the robes and papers,” Tarlay said firmly as she pushed the flask into Gus’s hand. “Madam Cricket, those two guards at the door. Would you mind bringing them over?”
Madam Cricket raised a brow but quickly dropped her gaze as Vanya approached to relieve her of the tattered, rolled scroll of paper and simple, folded garments. “Ah—of course. What—do you need them for?”
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“I require witnesses,” Tarlay said dismissively as she took the garments from Vanya and offered them to Gus. “You should get dressed while we wait.”
Vanya quickly turned around to give the slave his privacy and kept her gaze focused on the entryway that Madam Cricket was headed towards. The slaver appeared to argue with the two lumps of muscle for a moment before the men reluctantly followed her back in their direction.
Tarlay smirked as both guards kept their gaze lowered towards the ground, apparently having received some sort of warning from their superior. “You can use the extra coin to cover any repairs,” the Witch Hunter stated as she stepped towards the trio and nodded at the document in Vanya’s hand.
Vanya unscrolled Gus’s slave papers carefully. He appeared to have been born a slave, which meant more than one generation of a Saint’s descendant had lived beneath the yoke of a master.
‘Unforgivable.’
“I will need all three of you to observe as witnesses,” Tarlay explained as she carefully pulled the glove from her left hand. “As I will be setting this slave free.”
Madam Cricket’s eyes widened in confusion as her mouth dropped and her gaze left the ground. The woman’s conflicted expression soon paled at the sight of the ring Tarlay wore. One given to the senior witch hunter by Ripper for this mission.
One of eight rings forged by the First Saint.
“By the divine authority invested in me by his Holiness, Pope Jericho, I declare this slave, Gus, to be liberated from all claims on his physical person. Henceforth, Gus is free to go wherever he wishes and live by his discernment, following the laws of the kingdom and the commandments of the church.”
Vanya unfurled the paper that symbolized Gus’s status as a slave and held it out while Tarlay twisted the ring to face her palm and pressed it against the middle of the document. A single spark of golden light left a burned imprint of the Pope’s seal on the parchment. Madam Cricket quickly fell to her knees and bowed before the symbol of the Holy City’s Master.
“W-we are honored—to serve as witnesses.”
“Good, then you will leave your official mark below mine.”
Vanya handed the scroll over to the slaver, who hesitantly pulled a stamp from her waist pouch along with a small jar of ink. A few moments later, Madam Cricket had left her mark and returned the document to Tarlay, who presented it to the stunned young man beside them.
“Master Gus, the Pope offers you your freedom.”
Vanya’s chest tightened at the look of confusion, disbelief, and suspicious hope that twisted the young man’s face.
“I—can not read—” he said hoarsely.
“Then I can only assure you in the name of his Holiness that from this day forward, you are a free man,” Tarlay explained patiently. “Now, if you would indulge me for a brief time. The Pope and I require your assistance about the matter we discussed earlier.”
Madam Cricket’s cunning eyes shifted between Gus and Tarlay suspiciously. The slaver quickly dropped her gaze when she noticed Vanya’s threatening glare.
Gus drew in a shaky breath as he took the scroll from Tarlay’s hand and gave a quick nod. “I—will help you—if I can.”
“Good. But first, I think, you require rest and a decent meal,” Tarlay added with a faint smile. “Unless—you have unfinished business here?”
The shift in the witch hunter’s voice did not go unnoticed to Madam Cricket. The slaver quickly lowered her head to the ground and clutched her trembling hands together. The guards on either side of her mimicked her movements stiffly.
Gus’s gaze moved from his papers to Madam Cricket and her thugs with numb disinterest. “They are not the ones who put these marks on my back.” Vanya watched as his gaze shifted to the silent slaves huddled in despair in the cages around them. “Can you—help them?” he whispered uncertainly.
Vanya glanced at Tarlay, who smiled sadly before replying, “Not today, Master Gus.”
He nodded. Acceptance came easily, even as Vanya read the guilt on his face. The young witch hunter set her pack down and pulled out a spare cloak that she carefully draped around his shoulders.
“There is always tomorrow,” she whispered with a reassuring smile, then secured the cloak in place with a simple copper pin.
“Tomorrow,” Gus muttered softly. His overwhelmed expression grew distant as his hands tightened into shaking fists.
Vanya resisted the urge to offer comfort and stepped back to maintain a respectful distance. Whatever his past, as a Descendant of a Saint, Gus far outranked her in the eyes of the church.
“It seems we are finished here,” Tarlay observed with a nod of approval as she took in Gus’s new appearance. She gestured for them both to follow her and turned towards the slave market’s entrance. “Oh—one more thing.” The glowing witch hunter’s chartreuse-green eyes focused in on the back of Madam Cricket’s bowed head. “Could you recommend a good inn with decent food and a bathhouse?”
“T-the Butter Boar’s Head runs a clean establishment,” Cricket whispered hoarsely. “A-a bit pricey, but clean beds, private baths, and some of the best food—if that’s what you’re after.”
“It is. Could you provide me with directions?”
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Gus remained silent as he trailed after the purple-haired witch hunter. Other than occasionally glancing back over his shoulder in Vanya’s direction, he kept his attention on the street ahead.
Vanya frowned at his bowed back. ‘I suppose his ability to heal isn’t as strong as that of a direct descendant of the Pope?’ Her scowl shifted to uncertainty as she recalled the scars of his injuries. Gus would soon have the power to wreak revenge on whoever had tortured him thus. ‘I hope he gets the opportunity to do so.’
Vanya let out a troubled sigh as she surveyed the pedestrians around them warily. She still regretted holding back her strength with Father Mark. ‘If I’d known they were going to throw me into prison and threaten execution, I’d have done more than break that pervert’s nose.’
Finding the inn recommended by Madam Cricket proved an easy task. Tarlay secured two rooms, one of which Vanya would share with their new companion. Gus appeared uncomfortable with the arrangements, but Vanya quickly assured him that she would give him his privacy.
“It is for your security,” Tarlay explained impatiently as they made their way up the inn’s stairs. “In any case, you won’t have to put up with us for long. Once we’ve finished our business in Lafeara, we will both return to Zarus.”
“Your business—with Lady Maura?” Gus murmured again with the same hopeful expression as before.
“I have other business to attend to before dinner,” Tarlay replied evasively as she handed the room key to Vanya. “See that he is given something to eat and then a proper bath.”
Vanya nodded as she struggled to hide her scowl. ‘Why does it feel like I’ll be babysitting the divine spark while Tarlay carries out the rest of our mission?’
“Master Gus, you are free to rest for the remainder of the evening,” Tarlay continued as her gaze returned to the quiet young man. “When I return—we will discuss what you know about the Baroness, Lady Maura.”
Gus nodded somberly and then looked down at the scroll in his hand. “If you are after Lady Maura—then you should beware the Earl of Hawthorne.”
Tarlay’s mouth twisted into a cynical smile as she reached behind her back. When the witch hunter removed her hand, she held an exquisite golden dagger with a pearl-studded hilt. “This is yours, a gift from the Pope. Use it if you are in any danger.”
The young man’s face twisted with an unreadable expression before he took a step back from the offered gift. “Why?” The strangled question was laced with suspicion as Gus raised his ebony eyes to Tarlay. “No information I give you could be worth such a gift, and you have—already freed me.”
“Perhaps you deserve it,” Tarlay replied with a carefully blank expression.
Gus scoffed and turned his gaze away from the blade.
The witch hunter shrugged and returned the dagger to the back of her belt. “I should get going. Vanya, keep him safe. Here’s some coin for dinner. Spend it wisely.”
Vanya accepted the small purse but quickly stepped after Tarlay as her mentor turned to leave. “Where are you going?”
“There’s someone I need to check in with before the day is over. An informant,” Tarlay answered quietly as she turned and placed an encouraging hand on Vanya’s shoulder. “Don’t let him out of your sight.”
‘Damn it.’ Vanya clenched her jaw and nodded. Gus leaned tiredly against the door to their room. He turned his gaze towards her questioningly once Tarlay had vanished down the stairs to the inn's main floor.
‘So much for the opportunity to prove myself. How the hell am I supposed to fight witches while babysitting this stunted bastard?’
The witch hunter sighed as she motioned Gus aside and unlocked the door to their room. Once inside, Vanya removed the heavy sack from her shoulders and set it down at the foot of the bed closest to the door, then shook out her cloak before retying it around her shoulders.
‘I’ll have to wait to bathe until after Tarlay has returned.’
“Why do you—”
Vanya glanced towards Gus, who averted his gaze from the weighted bangles around her boots. “Restraints,” she answered bluntly, then picked up the purse of coins from her bed. “Come on then, Master Gus, you must be hungry, and I could use a proper drink.”
“Yes, Miss—”
“Vanya. Just call me, Vanya.”
Gus nodded meekly and followed her to the door.
Vanya frowned with one hand on the handle as he notably slouched towards the floor. “Don’t do that.”
Gus blinked and raised his head in confusion.
“Your not a slave anymore, nor should you bow your head to any person here.”
He looked down, his confusion still apparent, then clenched his jaw and slowly straightened to his full height.
Vanya chuckled dryly as she took in the extra four inches he now had on her. “Were you pretending to be crippled?”
“Not—initially,” Gus replied bitterly as he avoided her gaze.
“You did what you had to in order to survive,” Vanya replied sympathetically.
His dark ebony eyes turned to meet her violet-blue with a look of surprise. “You—were also?”
“A slave?” Vanya nodded. “My father sold me while I was still a babe. The church found me when I was six, so I got out before the worst could happen.” She raised a hand and shook the bangles from her wrist, revealing her scars once more. “But not without a few permanent reminders.”
Gus gazed at her wrist and nodded solemnly. “I was born a slave.”
“I know. But now you’ll die a free man.” Vanya smirked as his expression shifted to one of worry. “Hopefully somewhere in the distant future.” ‘When I won’t be blamed for it.’ She turned back to the door and twisted the handle.
“The Baroness you’re after—she’s a witch.”
Vanya nodded as she offered him a reassuring smile over her shoulder. “I know. We wouldn’t have been sent here to find her otherwise.”
“Maura’s not just any witch,” Gus rushed out as she pulled the door open. “She’s—an ice witch.”
Vanya blinked twice before pushing the door closed firmly. She exhaled slowly, then turned to face Gus with an arched brow. “How do you know this?”
“Before I was sold to the Hawthornes, I was a slave of the Turnbell family—Lady Maura’s family,” he replied grimly. “I’ve known Maura since she was about three years old. She is—cunning, manipulative—and evil.”
‘So that’s why Ripper sent Tarlay to prod out Lady Maura’s true nature. The heart of an ice witch was invaluable. If Pope Jericho got his hands on it, his weakened health would improve, and he could live another hundred years! More than long enough to deal with Emperor Arius and his descendants!’
Vanya stepped forward swiftly and grabbed the collar of Gus’s cloak. She pulled the startled young man closer and hissed, “Who else knows the Baroness is an Ice Witch?”
“The Earl of Hawthorne and his mother—I suspect,” Gus rattled out quickly. “I’m not sure who else.”
Vanya’s eyes narrowed as his gaze and words trailed away at the end. ‘He’s not telling me everything he knows, but still—this changes everything. Depending on the Baroness’s lineage, she may be too much for Tarlay to handle on her own. This could be my chance….’
The witch hunter released Gus’s cloak and stepped back as she attempted to organize her thoughts. ‘I need to tell Tarlay about Lady Maura’s identity as soon as possible—but I can’t disobey her orders.’ Vanya clenched her fists and turned to the door with a frustrated growl.
“Master Gus, please keep what you’ve told me to yourself until you’ve spoken to Tarlay. She’s in charge of this mission.”
“Alright,” Gus replied meekly.
“Let’s get you fed, bathed, and to bed then,” Vanya muttered with one last glance in his direction before she yanked the bedroom door open. “Tomorrow will be a busy day.”
Gus nodded again and slipped back into his slouched posture as he followed her through the door. Vanya sighed but let him be for now. She’d break him of that habit soon enough, if only for the sake of his ancestor’s legacy.