The two left the basilica and entered the monastery, Therin keeping her within arm’s reach and Alira clamping down on Henry’s rage and the bizarre darkness that seemed enmeshed with it.

The monk ducked behind a pillar in the courtyard as a group of brown-clad brothers, their long prayer beads swaying at their waist approached and passed. He held her arm, his steely grip leaving finger marks on her forearm when he released her. Silently, Therin led her to a cloister that terminated in a wide double door.

“My personal quarters are through here but we have to be quiet. It’s a shared dormitory.” She nodded and he opened the doors. The room beyond was empty and he ushered her quickly down the red carpeted stone hallway to a narrow door with a wooden plaque labelled “Br. Therin”. He opened the unlocked door and shut it silently behind them.

The spare cell was sad and small. It held a very thin cot with a rough brown blanket, a small desk and chair and a chest. The stone floor was carpeted with rushes and smelled a little musty. The small window above the desk was barred.

Therin sat on his cot and gestured to the chair at the desk, his eyes wary and wide.

“Where should I begin?” Alira said, more to herself than to the monk staring at her.

“The beginning,” Therin said.

Gods, does he think we have all day and night? Just tell him the basics, Alira. Henry said as she baulked at the request.

“Well, I think that would take us a long time,” Alira said gently. She shrugged her pack off and drew the daggers from her belt, laying them on the desk before her.

“Then start with those.” Therin gestured.

“They’re Witch Knives.” Alira began and noted Therin’s impatient click of his tongue. “One was my mother’s and one…” She picked up the dagger that she had nicked herself with. “This one is mine.”

Something inside her seemed to break open, flooding her with a lightness and relief. It was the first time she had readily accepted that she was a branded witch. Something like relief seemed to flow into her, opening the possibilities before her.

She was a witch.

“So you’re a witch.” Therin said and he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, peering closer at the blades.

“Yes, but under…” She paused, unsure how to succinctly word her predicament. “It was not my wish to become a witch. I was tricked.”

Tricked is mean. Henry said distantly. She was still tamping him down but he was invested in what information she divulged and she loosened her reins on him slightly. I fulfilled Erin’s command. I didn’t know what I was doing. She threatened to bind him again and he shut up.

“How does one get tricked into becoming evil?” Therin asked, his tone tinged with the same contemptuous judgement that he had when scorning the housewife handbook earlier.

Ohira’s voice filled Alira’s mind and she recited the wise witch’s words.

“Witches were not always inherently evil. They were once the gateway between man and nature, a direct link to Aethra.”

“We won’t agree on theology so just tell me what you’re doing.” Therin eyed her blades again and she picked them up and handed them to him. As he was reaching for the blade she had claimed on accident, a purple spark shot out and stung his hand. He yelped and glared at her.

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“That blade is…” He looked at his hand and rubbed the red welt it had left. “Awful.”

“It has a very complicated history,” Alira said in agreement and set it down. She still offered her mother’s blade to the monk. He reached out and slowly took it.

“It’s heavier than it looks,” he said as he tossed it between his hands and flipped it once, catching its tip and then flipping it again. “Where are the gemstones? The pommel stone?” He peered closer and squinted.

“They were taken out. It’s part of why I need the book. I must find these gems and destroy them. I think the book either has answers as to where the stones are or how to destroy them.”

“You don’t know?”

Alira looked at him sheepishly and bit the inside of her cheek.

“I wasn’t told much. Just to find the book.”

“By whom?”

Alira paused and looked him over, taking in his posture, the casual way he held her mother’s dagger, the practised grace with which he tossed and caught the dangerously sharp weapon.

“A witch.” Predictably, he rolled his eyes.

“Alright, well,” He stabbed the dagger into the top of the desk and stood up.

“Where are you going?” Alira also stood, panic rising in her chest.

“Relax.” Therin opened the chest at the foot of his bed and yanked out a well-oiled mail shirt and a short sword. He set those on the floor carefully and pulled out a small wooden box which gave a metallic rattle. He opened the box and Alira saw actual gold pieces glint in the light from the window. Therin quickly counted the coins and nodded once then stood.

“Wait here,” he said and left the room abruptly. He came back several minutes later with the box emptied and a cloth bag.

“What–” Alira began but Therin shook his head and sat back down on the cot.

“First of all,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I believe you.” Alira visibly relaxed and he smiled a wry half-smile. “Second of all, I know there’s more to this,” he gestured to her and the blades. “But I understand that you’re either unable or unwilling to tell me everything.”

“It’s just that–” he held up a hand to forestall her again.

“Trust is earned, Alira. We are taught that very early here.” He set the cloth bag down on the cot beside himself and reached for her hand. “Third, I will help you.”

She let her gaze fall on their entwined hands and frowned.

“Why?” she found herself asking the monk.

“Because you’re in a lot of trouble and it is my duty to help those in need.” He squeezed her hand and she looked back up into his eyes.

“But…” She stopped when she saw a fervent look pass over him. “I’m not your heroic deed,” she said bitterly and yanked her hand away from him.

“I think you are.” A golden light shone briefly in his eyes and he smiled warmly. “The list of deeds isn’t comprehensive. There’s room for improvisation. If I bring back the stolen book, that would be the most heroic thing I could do, aside from letting the Inquisitors take you.” Darkness rolled across her shoulders and she blinked at him in horror.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would if I thought you were lying to me.” He admitted. “But I sense the truth in your words, even if they are veiled by something. You’re not lying, just omitting, which I happen to know for fact isn’t truly lying at all.”

“What’s in the bag?” She asked, nodding to the cloth sack beside him. Instead of answering her, he opened the bag into his palm and she frowned as two large silver coins attached to two long silver chains slithered out, her question still unanswered.

“They’re dispensation coins. If I leave the monastery on a mission, these allow me the right to enter most inns and all churches to seek protection and sanction. They also give me immunity to vagrancy laws.” He handed her one. “I just bought a second one from Brother Zeke.”

“Why?” she blinked in surprise.

“I told you. I’m going to come with you. This gives us status in every village and city in the kingdom. Once you’re properly clothed, who’s to say you’re not a nun?”

“Therin,” Alira began but tears began welling in her eyes, mortifying her. She suddenly felt so grateful to not be alone.

You’re never alone. Henry said petulantly. You just ignore that I’m here.

“Thank you,” Alira said firmly.

“You’re welcome,” Therin said. “I think we should start by talking to Devan. If I’m leaving on a mission, I have to tell him anyway and questioning him will give us the best lead on where to start looking.”