Wraith Walker

Chapter 12

     It was nearing the end of the night when the Grandmatron of the Western Covens approached Sasha. He and Tamsin were parked in a corner, several glasses of absinthe in. They weren't the only ones enjoying themselves, the Witches were threatening to descend into a bacchanal. 

     There would be a few more dances, then the crowd would disperse into the gardens, their quarters, or wherever it was that they went to in drunken revelry.

     The hunt for the Seer was the night's topic of conversation, with people musing which Kingdom might gain control of the destiny the Seer promised. A few people asked Sasha about it as they took the required turn around the room, greeting guests and thanking them for coming. 

     But Tamsin didn't spend too much time contemplating it. She watched Helisant from the corner of her eye, working the room the same as Sasha and Tamsin, listening for tidbits that might assist in the hunt. Tamsin's part this evening was that of the dutiful wife. Laughing at the jokes, smiling, chatting animatedly... and she was good at it. More than that, Tamsin was surprised at how many people seemed genuinely pleased to see them. They were a popular couple, so different from when Queen Bataer reigned.

     Bataer had been liked well enough, but she was a serious ruler intent on building Tyanth to a state that rivaled Kendecier's power as the capital of the Continent. The fabric and dye industries flourished under her rule and trade exploded. While the citizens of Tyanth enjoyed their wealth, her personality remained fierce and strict. She lacked the joviality that Sasha paraded around. A reception like this would have meant swaths of Witches basking dark power, not participating in any sort of dancing and merriment.

      Courtiers would never have been so informal with Bataer, never would have clapped her on the shoulder as they did Sasha. Never would have insisted on a shared glass of absinthe or a puff from their pipe. And never would have Bataer humored them, laughing in agreement and insisting on another one.

     So Tamsin and Sasha were in an excellent mood by the time the Grandmatron approached them. They were in the back corner of the room, standing on the dais surrounded by a few Courtiers, passing a pipe of wormwood around, letting the smoke waft through the courtyard door that had been propped open. Somewhere around the third hour of breathing in the mugwort, the fourth glass of absinthe, and the fifth draw of the wormwood pipe, Tamsin had stopped feeling her face. She was heavy lidded, a bit woozy, and loosened her grip on her power. It trailed from her, snaking through the room to mingle with other Witches' loosened power. All feeding on each other, all drawing energy and life from one another.

     "Greetings, Sasha Deneholm, Witch King of Tyanth and the Eastern Covens." Came a croaking voice. 

     The Courtiers huddled around parted and dropped into a bow. Tamsin bent at the waist as the Grandmatron approached. Draped in shining midnight blue robes and bone garlands, the Grandmatron bowed her head to Sasha. It didn't make much of a difference, she was so short and round that it simply bobbed forward. She looked friendly with her heavy round face and snub nose, but much like the rounded ears of the Witches and the Canins, it was a ruse.

     While the East of Tyanth was coated in cozy, amber lit villages and refined magic, the West remained wild. Raw, ancient magic was abundant there and the Western Covens all but ruled themselves. They were loyal to East out of monetary necessity, but tensions between the East and West simmered for near five millennia now. There weren't proper cities or villages as in the East, but close knit covens that lived as they had for thousands of years in small hamlets or as nomads.

     The Grandmatron ruled over the West, a Queen in all but name. Each coven had their own leader and all leaders reported to the Grandmatron. She'd taken up the Western Palace after Sasha had passed on it and only relented its chambers when he traveled there to conduct business. But mostly the Western Covens were left to themselves. She was immensely powerful and the way the huddle had immediately silenced proved as such. Each Courtier's eyes scanned the floor frantically, trying to plan their earliest escape.