Witch Crag by Kate Cann Read Free Book Online Page B

more. It’s like death and I’d rather be actually dead. We have to go. Don’t say anything. I know you think I’m mad. I know how we can do it. My high place – it’s a ledge, on the rock by the great gates.”
    â€œI thought it was,” said Quainy. “Though I’ve never seen you climb up there.”
    â€œI hope no one has. There’s a way down from my ledge to the outside – where the wooden barricade joins the rock. I. . . I’ve done it.”
    â€œYou’ve been out ?” said Raff, stunned.
    â€œNo. Last summer, I climbed down as far as I could, then saw the drop, and bottled it. Actually, I didn’t really mean to escape, not on my own. But we can do it. Climb halfway down, at night, then drop.”
    â€œRight,” said Quainy, sarcastically. “Drop right on top of a night guard.”
    â€œWe’d be between the guards at the gates and the one at the dung gate – they won’t see us. Not if we go soon – before the moon’s too big.”
    â€œThey’ll hear us when we scream because we’ve smashed ourselves on the rocks.”
    â€œQuainy, I’ve been down, I’ve seen it – we can do it. Where we have to drop, the rock face slopes inward, we wouldn’t touch it. We’d land on brambles but we could throw sheepskins down first, to break our fall.”
    There was a long pause. “Brave Kita,” Raff said, at last. “Brave plan. So we escape. Then what? We’re living alone in the wilds. Fodder for dogs and crows. Or cannibals. Or worse.”
    Another silence, then Kita blurted out, “Not if we get to Witch Crag fast enough.”
    â€œYou’re mad,” breathed Quainy. “Go to the witches ? They’d destroy us, grimly enchant us – gobble us up. What are you saying ?”
    â€œI don’t know,” whispered Kita. “I don’t know how to explain.”
    Raff nudged her in warning as three bowls of hot soup were passed to them by a frowning cook, who’d heard their animated talking and didn’t approve of it. They took the soup, sipped, and waited for the cook to move out of earshot.
    â€œListen – I’ve had this . . . doubt . . . for a while now,” muttered Kita. “Like fog in my brain, like something you can’t pin down or put a name to. And then when Arc dragged in that witch, it all seemed to . . . it started to take shape. And then I talked to him and it took a stronger shape.”
    â€œAnd what was it?” asked Quainy. “This shape?”
    â€œJust – I don’t think the witches are as dangerous as everyone makes out. If they were – why wouldn’t they do more harm to us?”
    â€œOther than stealing girls, you mean?”
    â€œSuppose they don’t steal them. Suppose the girls want to go.”
    â€œOh, right,” said Raff. “Go to women who boil the meat off men’s bones?”
    â€œArc said this thing, about the witches. He said – maybe they just tinker with corpses. And I thought – maybe they do it to scare people away. To keep themselves safe.”
    There was a pause. They drank their soup in the silence. Then Quainy said, softly, “The horsemen . . . at their gates . . . they had a row of poles. With the heads of marauders spitted on them. And boar heads, interspersed. Rotting, flyblown, disgusting. Done to put the fear into people, to show how terrifying they are. . .”
    â€œYes,” said Kita, “ yes . Suppose the witches are like that. Suppose all their displays, footsoldiers hanging, skeletons in rings . . . suppose it’s the same thing.”
    â€œBut that means they’re like the horsemen,” said Raff, dully. “Barbarous. Cruel.”
    â€œNot necessarily. Think. Think . The horsemen are warriors, hunters, fighters. They ride out to defend and attack. Those heads on poles show what they do . What is the one thing,