The Magician's Witch

Friend or Foe?

Eilis opened her eyes, blinking a few times as they focused on the details of the room. She recognized the wall hangings and the curtains; it was exactly how she remembered it. She slunk to the door, opening it as quietly as she could, peaking out. She saw no one in the hall.

She looked out the window; it was just after dawn; Nadir would be at his morning prayers. She closed the door, going to sit on the bed to wait. She groaned as she nearly sunk into the feather mattress. After weeks of sleeping on a hard floor, the bed felt like a fluffy cloud. The difference taunted her. She made a face as she rubbed the small of her back.

Eilis waited for nearly twenty minutes, remembering Nadir's routine from when she was here in October; he would pray, then wake Reza, visit with his son, and he would help the nurses get him into his wheelchair, return to his own room for about half an hour, then have breakfast on the terrace. She crossed her fingers, hoping this was still the routine he adhered to.

She knew where Nadir's room was, but she had never been inside. She at least knew what the door looked like. She hoped to be able to sneak into his room while he was with Reza and wait for him to return. At least in his room, he would be on his own—no servants, hopefully.

The time came. Eilis stood up from the bed, smoothing out where she had sat. Then, she pictured Nadir's bedroom door and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she was standing in front of it. She heard distant footsteps coming down the hall to her left; her vision was obstructed by a column. She quickly but quietly twisted the doorknob and let herself in, closing the door silently behind her. The footsteps faded past the bedroom, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

Nadir's room was surprisingly simpler than Eilis had imagined: it was simply furnished—a bed, a bedside table, an area rug, a chair in the corner, a trunk at the foot of the bed. Eilis suspected that this simplicity stemmed from a desire to lessen any painful memories of his wife. She suspected that this room used to have much more life in it before she died.

Eilis waited patiently, standing behind the door of the bathroom; she wouldn't come out until he shut the door. She would have to be fast—Nadir was not as fast as Erik when it came to hand-to-hand, but he could hold his own. She hoped she could silence him quickly so as not to raise an alarm.

At last, she heard someone approach the bedroom door. For a moment, she panicked—what if it's a servant and not Nadir? Eilis held her breath as she heard the door swing open steadily, and then close with a quiet click. Eilis's heart beat rapidly. She whispered a spell that sealed the door. She heard Nadir clear his throat and her panic subsided. She took a deep breath, then stepped out of her hiding place.

Nadir stared at her, a dubious look on his face which quickly changed to outrage. "How dare you sneak into my home! Into my room! You do realize that I am well within my rights to arrest you."

Eilis gazed at him steadily and nodded. "Yes. I do realize that. And yet, I am here anyway."

That brought Nadir up short. "Does Erik know you're here," he asked, still infuriated, but speaking softly.

Eilis shook her head. "He is going to be fuming when he finds out, though. But it's a risk I was willing to take."

Nadir looked her up and down, taking in her appearance. Eilis hadn't looked at her own reflection in a long time, save the tiny sliver of her face she saw in the mirror she used to speak with Erik while he was away. She had no idea what she looked like, but she knew she looked rough.

"You look as though you just came in from milking goats," Nadir replied.

Eilis quirked a half-smile. "Technically, I milked the goats yesterday."