Free The Black Chalice by Marie Jakober

me there were four things of great danger which lay in my path, and I should fear none of them. Dread neither forests, he said, nor dead men, nor ravens, nor storm.”
    He did not think it was easy to surprise a witch, but he appeared to have just done so.
    “That’s extraordinary,” she said.
    “You don’t… communicate with him, by any chance, do you?”
    She laughed. And then, quite suddenly, she grew serious again— too serious, as though something hard and bitter had moved into her thoughts.
    “Things become known in the world, Karelian, by those who wish to know them. Such knowledge crosses boundaries, and passes easily through time and distance. And yet it is scattered knowledge; no one directs it, and no one can; it’s simply there, like stars and water. I’ve never spoken with the mage of Acre, nor sent him any messages, nor did he ever send anything to me. Whatever counsel he gave you came from his own wisdom.”
    She spared him a small, melancholy smile.
    “I am only half veela, Karelian. I was not above wishing I was wrong, wishing you might simply share my table and my bed, and ride away again, free. But if a wizard halfway across the world has helped to send you here….”
    The words faltered and fell still. He observed, not for the first time, that she was no longer young. There was a world of experience in her eyes, and a hardness in the lines of her mouth— a hardness which laughter and graciousness mostly hid, but which he knew would always be there, always in reach if she needed it.
    It troubled him, but it did not make him want her less.
    “I had hoped to capture a valiant knight, my lord of Lys. I think perhaps I’ve captured something better.”
    He shoved her away and got to his feet. “That’s a compliment with a knife in its teeth, lady.”
    Captured…. Well, what had he expected? Sorcerers never lured men into their realms of power except to use them or destroy them. Any child could have told him as much. Reinhard had warned him. Poor Pauli, too loyal and too frightened to protest, had followed him shivering with fear.
    Yet he had come here almost without hesitation, with his head up and his banners flying. He had never been afraid of it, not really, not even now. Was that sorcery too? Or was it something in himself, something so ravaged and so angry at the world that risks of any sort no longer mattered much?
    “Why did you bring me here?” he asked bitterly.
    “To save the Reinmark,” she said. “If it can yet be saved.”
    All along she had been evasive and indirect; this sudden frank statement astonished him.
    She swung her legs over the side of the bed and slid her feet gracefully into her sandals. She picked up the soft, shimmering garments abandoned on the floor, and pulled them on— like an autumn moon, he thought, full and wanton, drawing around herself whispers of cloud, so shamelessly beautiful that ordinary common sense and judgment, and all those other things a man depended on, simply failed him. They tinkled to a stop like tired bells, and all he wanted to do was look at her.
    She swept her gold belt around her waist, knotted it, and confronted him.
    “Do you intend to accompany me through the halls of Car-Iduna stark naked, my lord count?”
    “My apologies, lady. I didn’t know I was expected to accompany you anywhere.”
    She stood, one hand on her hip, watching him. He was unconscionably pleased by the admiration in her eyes.
    “Now that I think about it,” she said, “it might not be a bad idea. Consider what it would do for my prestige.”
    “More, I fear, than it would do for mine.” Her hair was still tangled from sleep and pleasure, and his hands found their way into it all by themselves. Christ, I am as defenseless as a baby….
    “Will you tell me the truth, Raven of Car-Iduna? What do you want from me?”
    She did not smile. “Everything,” she said. “Everything you have in exchange for everything you want. Come.”
    She led him to the