The Thief Taker (The Thief Taker Book 1) by C. S. Quinn

Author:C. S. Quinn [Quinn, C. S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2014-09-08T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Pain had tightened Charlie’s awareness to a narrow dim tunnel. It throbbed through his savaged feet, bit at his strained muscles and pulled down at his eyelids. Ahead the slice of dark highway jarred in his vision as he took step after exhausted step.

‘Hold!’ A frightened voice sounded from up ahead, and Charlie realised that he had reached Walthamstow and the village was guarded through the night.

In the dawn light Charlie made out the weary face of a young man. He was staring at Maria’s lolling body and blue face.

The guard’s eyes bulged and he kicked a sleeping form lying out on the grass. A second sentry looked up blearily then rose to his feet.

‘He tries to bring with him the plague,’ he said.

‘No, no,’ Charlie held up tired hands. ‘It is the bloody flux she has. She is from your village. I only ask you to let her rest somewhere warm.’

Maria was unconscious and her skin had turned an even paler blue. Her breathing came in short rapid breaths.

‘Get back!’ shouted the first guard.

‘Please,’ said Charlie. ‘Her name is Maria. Anna-Maria. She used to be of your village. She has an older sister, Eva.’

The sentries exchanged glances and receded into muttering. Eventually one disappeared back towards the village and the other spoke up.

‘We have sent for the wise woman,’ he said cryptically.

Charlie’s mouth set tightly, realising what they meant. They had called for the witch.

His mind raced. Likely the villagers thought to have him cursed.

Before he could make up his mind to turn back a female voice rang out. He squinted into the gloom to see a tall woman stalking towards the gate.

She matched the height of both guards, and her simple wool dress was crowded by the jumble of scissors, knives and leather pouches strung from a belt on her hips. Her hair was like an explosion. Coarse red curls corkscrewed down to her waist and out at the sides in munificent chaos.

Charlie momentarily forgot the peril of Maria’s health to regard the statuesque woman with undisguised fear. He had never seen a witch before and wondered what she was capable of.

Herbs and greenery were stuffed beneath her belt beside the assortment of cutting implements.

The woman sniffed the air and gave a quick nod. Her sun-dappled face and bright brown eyes settled on Charlie.

‘It is dysentery that she has,’ she confirmed. ‘Bring her through.’ She turned quickly without any notion her orders would not be immediately attended to.

One of the young guards stepped forward to take the reins of the horse, holding a handkerchief over his mouth. Charlie made to go along behind it, but the other guard stopped him uncertainly.

‘Have him bring her through,’ called the woman without turning around. ‘If he has made it this far then most likely he has not taken the bloody flux.’

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