Myrren's Gift by Fiona McIntosh Read Free Book Online

decades, brought fear and loathing into Morgravia.”
    “And then?” his friend had asked.
    “And then we wait for a new generation to finish what we have begun,” the King had replied with certainty. “A generation that has not known the terror of the Zerque Witch Stalkers and will therefore hold no faith in them.”
    Fergys had agreed that a handful of deaths—if any at all—were preferable to the early years of persecution of suspected witches, usually innocents with the unfortunate afflictions of cleft palates or club feet. The introduction of a single Confessor and the binding of the law, which gave the sovereign final say over any cases, was a worthy compromise during the Years of Abolition, as Magnus termed it. Fergys was not fully convinced that granting concessions to those still suspicious of herbwomen or people of irregular features might not encourage the fanatics to take their fervor underground, but he conceded the sense of giving the King ultimate say over who might be brought to trial. He had to trust that Magnus would frustrate the progression of cases to such an extent that the practice of witch-hunting would simply peter out.
    Confessor Lymbert, in the meantime, had walked a careful path, never overstepping his authority, and as a result his role quietly continued long after the abolition of the Zerques had been achieved. Magnus regretted this and had made a promise to himself that he would abolish the office of Confessor. The war with Briavel had distracted him, and then his General’s untimely death had so profoundly affected the King’s health that he had paid little attention to domestic affairs for some time. Lymbert had survived and, sadly, his Witch Stalkers had found Myrren.
    King Magnus hated the sound of those bells and he knew as the clangor began that morning that the few remaining Witch Stalkers would be understandably desperate for a trial and a kill. He had hoped the girl Myrren and her family had taken the sensible precaution of fleeing their village but then he knew Lord Rokan to be far too cunning to allow such a thing to happen. Rokan was a senior noble of little consequence, with too many vices for Magnus’s tastes, but he was well connected among the nobility.
    Lord Bench, one of the most influential men in the realm, was distantly related through marriage and Rokan rarely failed to use Bench’s status to further his own causes.
    Magnus had pieced it together in his mind, even though Rokan had only told half the story. It was obvious to the King that Rokan had made his predictable, albeit unwelcome, advances to this youngster.
    Myrren, and when spurned had decided to take revenge. He had a long history of indiscretions outside his marriage and this had been just another attempt to get a young woman into his bed. It was a tragedy.
    Magnus felt, that Rokan had stumbled across this particular girl’s village.
    The problem for Magnus was that the noble’s accusation carried weight in the eyes of the Stalkers and those who still harbored deep-rooted suspicion of any man. woman, or child who might show some physical difference. The Zerques had preached for a century or more that a person born with a caul, more or less than ten fingers or toes, or—Shar forbid—ill-matched eyes must be a member of the devil’s clan.
    Magnus might have officially dismantled the power of the Zerque Order, but he could not control the minds and hearts of his people. He knew that some in his realm still used the odd warding against sorcery, or wore specific colors on certain days, and whilst these seemed little more than harmless superstitions he also knew how easily they could develop into full-blown fear, a baying for blood. He hoped that any genuine sentient—if there was such a person—would have the wisdom to keep his or her practices secret.
    No such chance for young Myrren—witch or not, her case was now very much public. Magnus did not personally believe the girl was guilty of the