Forever Green

~51~ Of Smoke and Stairwells

Theiden's index finger tapped an impatient rhythm against the right side of his trousers as he sat across from Colverne, the scratching of the man's pen on the papers before him the only sound breaking the silence. Outside, the dim sounds of revelry carried through the door as townsfolk meandered towards the city center for the night's festivities.

"How did you come by the teacup, Theiden?" Colverne finally asked, his voice jutting through the air like a sudden splinter in a wound. Theiden cringed.

"When I heard of the witch's attack at the river gate, I searched the riverbank," he answered, repeating the same story he had told the baker.

"And you used it to gain information on the witch?" Colverne dipped his pen in the inkwell at the far corner of his desk.

"Yes, about her father. I had seen her use the device before, while I was her captive, so I knew how it worked," Theiden replied. "I asked it to show me how she had snuck into the city."

Colverne paused at this, his one good eye looking up from the page before him. "Fighting magic with magic is a dangerous thing, Theiden," he warned.

Theiden inclined his head in understanding. "But isn't that what we already do, with the crystals?"

The thinning of Colverne's lips was the only indication of his disapproval at Theiden's challenge. "The difference here is that Sarav Decliteur is well-versed in the use of crystals, which are naturally correlated with witchcraft. The ministers of Völpúnsgard trained him personally."

Ministers? Theiden caught the word and stored it at the back of his mind in case it became useful later.

"You, on the other hand," Colverne continued, "are a novice in this field, and on top of everything, tried to keep this a secret.

He hadn't at all, actually. Theiden had known Valas wouldn't be able to keep the information about the teacup from the witch hunters—the promise of a reward and recognition was far too enticing. So Theiden had let slip a bit of trivia about the witch's father, along with the teacup—just enough to get him invited back into the witch hunter's network of buildings.

Now, all he had to do was break the bookkeeper out of the dungeon below them.

He stifled a groan. Kivirra's power of foresight had given her faith that somehow it would all work out, but at this moment the challenge seemed impossible.

"I was just waiting for the right moment," Theiden defended. "I didn't mean to hide the truth forever."

"It's not your decision to make," Colverne reprimanded, setting the pen down with a firm tap on the desktop. He knitted his fingers and brought them up to rest before his chin while studying Theiden from across the desk. "You have ambition, I'll give you that. But it's important that you know your place in all of this. The witch hunters operate through schedule and structure, Thieden, otherwise our efforts would never come to fruition."

Colverne dropped a hand to one of the side drawers of the desk, pulling it out with a slow rasp. A brief ruffling of papers later, and the man brought out a small folder which he dropped beside the papers already on his desk.

Theiden glanced down, and though the label was in small print and upside-down from his vantage point, he easily recognized the name at the top of the folder as his own.

"It says here," Colverne drawled, slowly flipping open the folder and picking up the first page, "that your wife and brother-in-law were the victims of a witch attack."

Theiden realized his index finger was still tapping, and pressed his palm firmly against the side of his leg before replying. His voice, though quiet, came out sharp and cold. "Yes, that's true."