"Uh-hu", the girl supplied unhelpfully.
"Can you tell me about it?"
The girl paused thoughtfully, and through her semi-transparent form Madeira could see her nervously picking away at the scabs between her fingers.
"The lady left. The ghost, I mean. I think she moved on. But nobody noticed because everyone was screaming and running away, but the people behind were pushing forward to see what was going on. Then the guard people in the white robes showed up, and that's when you summoned me."
Madeira licked her dry lips, her eyes firmly on the back of Emma's head. "And the spiritist, Rotsam? What did he do?"
"He shot the lady, but missed. Then he looked over the edge of the bridge for a bit."
"Did he look sad? Confused? Angry?"
The girl's shroud shivered as she shrugged her shoulders, her fingers still anxiously scratching at her ruined skin. She didn't want to talk about the time she thought her Maddy was dead, but Madeira had to know.
"Did anybody talk to Rotsam?"
"The people in the white robes were about to, I think. But I never saw."
"Did he still have my bow?"
"Yah. He was holding it really tight. His fingers were white like yours get when you're yelling at Jomi."
They lapsed into silence again, and the background noise of the forest rose up around them. Crows peered at Madeira's bloody side and cawed in annoyance, wondering why she wasn't dead yet. Elk crossed their path, huffing nervously at the scent of blood, and scattered as Madeira waved her flaming bow. All along Madeira's mind was wrapping endlessly around a question, one so consuming that the ache in her feet and the cold in the folds of her ruined flesh became but minor concerns, and the rhythm of their endless decent became a mindless lope. Why didn't Rotsam tell her Amanthea's son was dead?
He knew her family's names, had said himself she returned periodically. Not all ghosts could be exorcised in one encounter. It wasn't unheard of to have years of rapport before one could understand a spirit or help it finish its unfinished business, much like her own relationship with Emma and Jomi. But if that was the case he would have done his research, talked to her family, investigated her history. He should have known, should have told her. That death changed everything about the situation. She wouldn't have gone to her dressed as her dead child.
Did he mean to put her at risk? Maybe he wanted her to be knocked around so he could save her. A little retaliatory humiliation before he saved the day alone? Or did he mean to kill her.
She remembered the grim look on his face, and the open, elated mockery when he fought through her hypnotism. She was a much better spiritist than him, and had arrived in a blaze into his comfortable territory with a combative kelvic and a high position already secured. Then who would want his services when there was a more talented, more affable option available? He had the motive to want to kill her. And what a neat way to do it, she thought darkly. There was an entire crowd watching who could attest to the accident.
"Maddy?"
WC: 560
"Can you tell me about it?"
The girl paused thoughtfully, and through her semi-transparent form Madeira could see her nervously picking away at the scabs between her fingers.
"The lady left. The ghost, I mean. I think she moved on. But nobody noticed because everyone was screaming and running away, but the people behind were pushing forward to see what was going on. Then the guard people in the white robes showed up, and that's when you summoned me."
Madeira licked her dry lips, her eyes firmly on the back of Emma's head. "And the spiritist, Rotsam? What did he do?"
"He shot the lady, but missed. Then he looked over the edge of the bridge for a bit."
"Did he look sad? Confused? Angry?"
The girl's shroud shivered as she shrugged her shoulders, her fingers still anxiously scratching at her ruined skin. She didn't want to talk about the time she thought her Maddy was dead, but Madeira had to know.
"Did anybody talk to Rotsam?"
"The people in the white robes were about to, I think. But I never saw."
"Did he still have my bow?"
"Yah. He was holding it really tight. His fingers were white like yours get when you're yelling at Jomi."
They lapsed into silence again, and the background noise of the forest rose up around them. Crows peered at Madeira's bloody side and cawed in annoyance, wondering why she wasn't dead yet. Elk crossed their path, huffing nervously at the scent of blood, and scattered as Madeira waved her flaming bow. All along Madeira's mind was wrapping endlessly around a question, one so consuming that the ache in her feet and the cold in the folds of her ruined flesh became but minor concerns, and the rhythm of their endless decent became a mindless lope. Why didn't Rotsam tell her Amanthea's son was dead?
He knew her family's names, had said himself she returned periodically. Not all ghosts could be exorcised in one encounter. It wasn't unheard of to have years of rapport before one could understand a spirit or help it finish its unfinished business, much like her own relationship with Emma and Jomi. But if that was the case he would have done his research, talked to her family, investigated her history. He should have known, should have told her. That death changed everything about the situation. She wouldn't have gone to her dressed as her dead child.
Did he mean to put her at risk? Maybe he wanted her to be knocked around so he could save her. A little retaliatory humiliation before he saved the day alone? Or did he mean to kill her.
She remembered the grim look on his face, and the open, elated mockery when he fought through her hypnotism. She was a much better spiritist than him, and had arrived in a blaze into his comfortable territory with a combative kelvic and a high position already secured. Then who would want his services when there was a more talented, more affable option available? He had the motive to want to kill her. And what a neat way to do it, she thought darkly. There was an entire crowd watching who could attest to the accident.
"Maddy?"
WC: 560
x
